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Peaceful.

That was the word that defined the atmosphere that one could feel in the Apples' house. Everything was silent, everything was in order, and everypony was sleeping... or were they?

Apple Bloom was awakened by the limited light coming through the badly closed window in her room, a room that she now shared with Venicio. She started sharing her room the day before, when Venicio was found in the fields and adopted by her family.

When Applejack discovered that Venicio wasn't claimed by anypony in town, Apple Bloom feared that her big sister was going to give the colt to an orphanage.  That was something she wished to avoid, since she somehow felt bonded to him, like she felt bonded to Applejack and her brother. Basically, after staying with him for a few minutes, the yellow filly already considered the grey colt to be like a brother.

In fact, as soon as Applejack went to Town Hall knowing to communicate her decision about the fate of Venicio, Apple Bloom decided for herself to share her room with him.  The filly started to prepare everything necessary. Apple Bloom used a good portion of her savings to buy some extra milk at the Farmers’ Market and powder and diapers from the emporium.  She actually tidied her bedroom, making room for Venicio’s crib.  She was in the zone, and in the span of a few hours, she accomplished what would normally take days, even with the help of other ponies.

In fact, Apple Bloom's dedication to doing such things surprised Applejack and her brother, whom had never seen the filly so glad to do manual labor.  They knew that she would likely regret it dearly, since it was well known that babies are merciless about their sleep cycles. But Apple Bloom seemed unaware of that, and no amount of advice seemed capable of convincing her otherwise, so she went through with her “sacrifice”.

Now Apple Bloom was watching Venicio sleep deeply, dressed in his yellow pajama, no sound coming from him apart from his breathing, slow and calm. After staring for a while, Apple Bloom decided to go back to sleep.  It was Sunday, and she had nothing she needed to do, and nothing she wanted to do either.

After that unholy rant when I got proof that I wasn't dreaming, I decided to stop raging about what was going on, and actually do something to help me escape. I had my “breakfast”, a baby bottle filled with milk, which gave me the opportunity to think.  First of all, I had to find a pony that could understand me, a task easier said than done.  I didn’t know any language known by both parts, as I could not speak English and they could not speak Italian, and to pick up the language by listening to what ponies were saying would take time. Time that I didn't have.

Another way was to write. I was more than capable of writing something in English that would make sense, so a good chunk of the language barrier would be down.  The problem was I had no idea how to write without hands. The bending allowed by my hooves didn't seem stable enough to hold a pen and write decently, and using my mouth wasn't going to be pleasurable for me.

Second, I could convince the listener that I was actually a human turned into a foal. That should be an easy process; no foal of seven months would have the personality of, more or less, an adult.

Third, I could find a way of returning home. Well, I had no idea HOW I arrived, but I was sure that I was going to find someone capable of helping me in returning home, back to the turmoil that I called “family”.

When I finished thinking about how I could escape from Equestria, I found that I was in a different room.  This room featured two green couches on my left, and an angular wooden chest of drawers with some books on it on my right.  Scattered all over the place were toys of various kinds and size, along with some pencils and pieces of paper, giving away part of the supposed function of the room.

I rotated my head, and saw who carried me to that “living room”: Applejack.  As she left, she turned, smiling towards me, and spoke.  “Now ah have to go, but don't worry. Ah’m not leaving ya forever, like your original mother did, ah’m just going away for a while.”

Applejack’s decision to leave me alone made me facehoof.  Now, leaving me wasn't a problem, since I was more than capable of avoiding causing great harm to myself.  But if in my place there had been a real foal, then Applejack was going to return needing, at best, some bandages, and in the worst case scenario, a body bag. Even leaving me for few minutes wasn't such a great idea, since the room didn't have any door to separate it from the rest of house.

Anyway, since I wasn't going to tempt fate too much or threaten the safety of the house by doing absolutely idiotic things, I started, again, to think about what to do. I refused to play with the toys scattered in the room; after all, I still had some dignity left to defend at all costs. I opted to try to write something. I took a pencil in my left hoof, then I took a piece of paper, and I tried to write a simple phrase.

“O tempora, o mores.”

I made a slow circular movement with the pencil, but what came out was more an oval than a circle.  I tried again, this time actually watching how I was doing that. But it was in vain. The “o” still seemed like an oval.

Since it seemed that I wasn't capable of writing by hoof in a decent way, I decided to do some hand exercises, the kind that people with some nerve damage in their hand do. I rotated my left hoof around thirty times; then I tapped the hoof on the floor one hundred times, and then repeated the process ad nauseam.

By the time I was tired of doing exercises for my hoofwriting, I observed that I was still alone, without anyone watching me, and so I laughed. In a normal scenario, after the time that had passed since Applejack left me alone in the living room, a normal foal would be splattered on the floor, bleeding and crying after losing an eye, suffocated by a pillow....countless possibilities, some of them quite grave, but each and every one avoidable with some supervision.  One wouldn’t even need obsessive supervision, like a starving vulture circling over a dying animal, but at least peek in every half hour or so.

But those were things that did not concern me too much.

I was, again, bored out of my skull, and I had nothing to do, then I thought to the books....

The books! The glorious, lovable books!

Someone told me that reading was like riding a bike: once learned, never forgotten. Another spot of hope.

But an obstacle was in my way; the height of the shelves. They were too far out of my reach, unless I climbed the drawers, climbing that I was not sure I could do.

But if I wanted to get the books, I needed to climb the drawers.  If I didn’t, I was going to get bored very quickly, and when I get bored, I do the stupidest things, and God knows what I would do in that situation...

I stood thinking about how to solve the issue, until I got an idea by examining the couches. One of these pieces of furniture was quite close to the shelf where the books lied, and the pillows were plentiful. Maybe I could stack them to reach the top.

I tried to do so. I picked up all the green and red pillows, stacked them on the arm of the couch near the drawer, tested their stability... and saw that they were highly unstable.

Since I wasn't fond of getting covered in blood, or banging my head on the floor, I almost gave up my quest, until I thought about the toys. In particular, the building blocks. Said blocks were big and durable, and yet light: perfect, as the basis for a little staircase.

So, I disassembled the stack of pillows, arranged the building blocks in an orderly way, united them with other blocks, then created a true “pillow stair” with the pillows.

When my work was done, I saw that it was stable enough to walk on safely. I felt like a genius for having such an idea, using a basic principle of architecture, generally used with stone and wood, and applying it to plastic and feathers. What a good idea!

After that brag, I actually walked up the makeshift ramp, and saw that it was wavering, but nothing too serious. When I reached the top of the chest of drawers, I could finally see what the literary offerings of the Apple house were. I was disappointed. Apart from the classic Treccani, aptly named “Three Doggies”, the other books seemed quite bad. I saw a little collection of pulp story magazines, two fable books, and four coverless book that seemed, nonetheless, not very good.

Sighing, I pushed the encyclopedia off the top of the drawer with all my force, and then went down, dismantling the stair to leave no proof of my efforts, apart from the encyclopedia being on the ground. I opened a random page, just to pass the time reading, and to gain some knowledge.

Apple Bloom was utterly surprised, and amused, at the scene in front of her. Venicio was pretending to read the old encyclopedia, and he seemed to be concentrating, like if he was really interested in what was written. But it was clear that he was just looking at the images, though; no foal of such an age could be capable of reading something, especially if that “something” was a big book, written with very small typefaces, in technical and difficult language.  Plus, his eyes were moving too fast.

When the filly saw that scene, she immediately felt the desire to go to Venicio and cuddle him for a bit.  She moved towards Venicio, sat down on his right, and said, “So, Venicio, what are ya doing?”

He jumped a little in fright, then, recomposing himself, answered, “Mi informo sulle meraviglie di questo mondo, signorina Apple Bloom”+

Apple Bloom's heart stopped for a second.

Venicio said her name.

Her name.

He heard it only three times, possibly four.

And yet he remembered her name.

Apple Bloom smiled sincerely towards Venicio, and started to rub a hoof in his light brown mane. Venicio stopped his “reading”, rolled towards the filly, and started to make a sound similar to the purring of a cat. It was clear that Venicio was enjoying it.

Another thing that I appreciated about my regression, and about staying in the Apples’ house, was seeing Apple Bloom happy.  I think she was happy because she thinks that I had said my first word in Equestrian, and that word was her name, and I also think she liked getting cuddled by somebody.

In fact, just when Apple Bloom started to rub her hoof through my mane, I overreacted, and purred in pleasure. Considering the fact that, until then, I only felt another's hand on my skin when being attacked by somebody, and that I didn't have much chance to do such things when I was a baby for real, I more than appreciated receiving her love now.  It felt extraordinary.

Then I started to return her affection by putting my front legs around her and hugging her. Surprisingly, I was still quite strong in my “arms”, since Apple Bloom blushed and tried to detach me from her, a sign that she was suffocating because of the strength of my hug.

The cycle of affection kept going for God knows how long, until Applejack came in.

“Apple Bloom, ya sure do love Venicio, don't ya?” she said. “Anyway, it’s lunch time. We’re waiting for ya upstairs.”

Huh? Midday already? Wow, time sure flies, though I had no idea what time it was when I had woken up.

Anyway, another morning of incarceration in a foal's body had passed. At the table, the atmosphere was calmer. Big Macintosh actually tried two times to stop me from going on an eating rampage, and succeeded; Granny Smith, even though she wasn't totally pleased by my presence, at least didn't look like she wanted to dissolve me in acid; Applejack prepared enough food for the larger number of family members; and Apple Bloom tried to feed me, though I kindly refused to let her do so.

While I was eating, I caught a conversation between Big Macintosh and Applejack.  “Big Mac, this afternoon mah friends are coming over here: since ah want ta share mah snack with them, could ya please NOT touch whatever ya find in the oven?”

“Eeyup.”

In front of me, a figurative light appeared.  The event seemed to be a Deus Ex Machina of great importance. Applejack's friends, namely, the rest of  the Mane 6, were going to be in her house that afternoon. For my escape plan, this was a great boost, because with the power of Twilight and her knowledge, it was likely that I would be able to go back home in no time.

After my struggles with the language barrier, all was now simpler for me. I had to just wait, prove my true age in front of the six mares, and then I was free to return to home. Everything was going to be fine.

But, for now, I was still just a 7-month old foal in the eyes of the others, so I had to wait.