He brushes the tears away, not even bothering to stop the wracked little sobs escaping from his mouth. Sometimes, he wonders why he keeps crying, if it only brings him more pain. He doesn't like to feel weak, when his parents can hold their heads so high. But then he remembers that his parents do not care for him, in the same way that they care for their reputation, and so he keeps letting his eyes water.
He comes to the lake on the nights he does cry, though. It soothes him, the way the night is reflected silver upon the water's surface. He stares into the deep pool himself, occasionally, just to see his pale reflection looking back at him. He smiles, watching as the lake does the same. It makes him feel safe, less alone.
It is not long after that when he's throwing pebbles, seeing how far he can chuck them and listening to the fulfilling thunk as each of them hit the water. It compliments the sounds of nature well, a rhythm to go along with the crow's distant call. It reminds him that the world is as lonely as he, and how there is a particular beauty in it.
This is one such night.
He takes special care to find the smoothest pebbles, gritting them loosely between his teeth and flinging them. He makes sure to splash in all the dirtiest puddles, and get the right amount of twigs stuck in his mane. It makes him feel normal, instead of the noble colt he is usually portrayed as. He usually dreams pleasantly these nights, visions of a loving family and regular childlike wonders. He does not see his pain.
As the starlight lingered on, and the last stone skidded over the lake, he silently thanked the Moon Princess for her calming stars and hypnotic silence of the world. As the darkness of sleep threatened his vision, the young foal yawned, as he turned his head to face the house in the distance. He supposed that tonight was one of the times where he would sleep by the lake's side. The guards and servants stationed at various parts in the mansion knew him well enough, figuring that his serene privacy meant the world to him. They knew where to find him, he would be in bed by morning tomorrow.
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As the child lay asleep in nature's grasp, the shadows watched him from a distance, waiting for movement in the pony's deadly quiet slumber. When the foal turned over in a restless dream, they relaxed. As they moved, swiftly and up out of the water dripping slightly, they looked down upon him with curious pity.
The dark creature bent forward, cocking its head slightly to the side. There it sat, waiting again for the steady rise and fall of the other's chest. It too breathed slowly, in and out, mimicking the foal's movement like the lake reflecting a smile. It was loud, the breathing of the unholy shadow, much in contrast to the softer breathing beside it. It was unnerving to most, the silence before the blow with a not-quite-right wind howling in an unknown room. But this, it ignores.
With care, the creature unhinged its jaws, mouth full of razor-sharp teeth stained with blood and seaweed, and picked the pony up, setting it on its back that wasn't quite a back. Quietly watching for any change in the foal's behavior, It stayed motionless. In return, the young one only turned, adapting to its new bed. Again, the shadows watched for the breathing.
It then begins to trot and slither away in the shadows of the trees, towards the light of the distant home. It listens for the slumber of the child, and is cautious to not drop it or let it wake. As it arrives to the wall, it looks back to the foal. Ever so careful. It picks him up again, jaws open ever so slightly, and and cradles him in It's claw. He snores quietly, and still sleeps.
It grips the wall with tendrils that slide along the surface. Slowly, It climbs. Up to the fourth window up, the second one to the right. It fiddles with the lock, opening it so that it sits open slightly ajar, and takes the child into the room. It takes only a brief second, familiarizing Itself with the bedroom It has taken the pony to countless times before, and learning of the new toys and books scattered around.
The long arms extended from Its back pull away the sheets from the bed, and It gently lays the foal into the soft mattress, again pulling the covers back over the shivering little pony. It waits, tucking the child in, making sure that he is asleep. It steps back, into the shadows from where It came, and watches. The steady breathing of the pony that It mimics resumes normally, and it relaxes the creature.
The wind blew quietly through the window, and It caught the barest hint of it whistling over the roof. It looks at the candle, glowing dimly in the darkness of the bedroom. It's eyes flicker to it, grimacing, and then to the glinting object reflecting the soft light.
It then remembers the stone. On the foal's bedside, lays the Quartz gem, tossed across the lake and then plummeted to the bottom in a fit of the young one's rage. It had taken the pebble in a clump of dirt, bringing it with the child for the nightly routine, and It was suprised to see that the child had kept it. Once more, it rubs the stone in It's hoof and claw, and sets in on the bedside table. It pauses, in thought, and agrees to Itself. It then melts away into the darkness, watching.
It gives the equivalent of a smile, for a monster, and looks at the sleeper. It keeps the bad dreams away.
In the morning, he would wake, and It would be waiting.
The creature before him was, by all means, horrific. He didn't scream, however, or cry, or run away. The thing before him was too much a replica of himself. Sad. A misunderstood being out of the legends and depths of the Everfree forest, told to the naughty babies and disobedient schoolchildren, an old-mares-tale meant to keep others from wandering off.
Of course, these were usually read to fillies and foals whose parents had time to tell them.
He never was told to scream.
He blinked, and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He knew that there was a slight possibility that the monster was yet another hallucination in a dream, put that would be nearly impossible. Dreams did not explain why it smiled at him, mouth curling impossibly around it's head, and the teeth that had looked rusted and decayed. He didn't even dream that night.
He shaked off the last sheet that was strewn across the bed, and lazily walked over to the dark creature. He sat down on the plush rug, looking up at it with caramel eyes. It looked down at him, and he heard a sharp crack as it did, and he felt it's questions bore into him like nails.
It's eyes were a feature that he noticed quite quickly. The left one, it was sewn shut. The upper eyelid was sewn to the bottom one, and it looked like there wasn't even an eye underneath them. The string used to connect them looked like copper, and perhaps it was, and it looked like the thing had been crying out of the seams. It was not tears, no, it was blood. Blood and seawater cascaded down the thin cheekbone and then fell to the ground. Some of it looked dried.
The other eye looked like one large pupil, the thin circle of white surrounding it looked bloodshot. It had large eyes, and a large mouth, but the actual head looked like a regular pony's. Though the skull looked cracked a bit, seen through the sickly white skin it had, as if it couldn't hold its contents and may fall apart. It had no hair, only small scars and cuts, which also showed small drops of blood dripping out. The ears were normal, if not a tad large, and he could see some of the veins running through them.
The other thing that the child noticed were its forelegs. The right one looked charred, burned and black. This was sewn onto the body, with the same wire used to sew shut the one eye. The skin, which was the only thing shown since the fur looked like it had been singed off, was crisp and showed small spots of regular white flakes.
The rest of the body was seemingly okay, besides the fact that the thing looked starved. Bones and ribs were seen protruding out of its frame, and there were cuts and scars on the body which made it look like it had been abused. The back, where vertebrae jutted out like spines, were two large bumps, just behind the ribcage. He supposed that there were wings there once, but were torn or cut off. This must've been true, because whenever the creature flexed, the two lumps moved as when a Pegasus' wings do when trying to lift off.
Besides this, the tail looked like it was made purely out of darkness, as it flowed with the shadows. There were chunks of seaweed in there too, tangled in the black void that passed for hair. The thing had no Cutie Mark upon its flank. Instead, the shadowy tail seemed to seep into the skin skin around the base, creating swirling patterns whenever it moved.
He took a moment to view the creature, eyes unyielding. He paused, and caught his breath as he formed the words in his mouth, still tired from a night's sleep. "What's your name?" he asked innocently, blinking in the collision of the shadows it created and the sunshine outside. He yawned, once, twice, before looking back at the monster.
It paused momentarily, looking at the foal with the good eye, before replying. "What would you like my name to be?"
It said as it tilted its head slightly to the side, again with a loud crack of bones snapping.
It's voice was rough, as if someone had tried to rip out the creature's throat. It was like choking on gravel, a dark, terrifying sound that chilled the spine. He shivered as he heard it, but still thought over the question it answered with. He turned around, catching a glimpse of the bookshelf that sat behind them. One of the tomes, with a worn out leather cover, caught his eye.
It was one of his favorite books, a fantasy story called The Velveteen Rabbit. He remembered that the main hero, a stuffed toy bunny, had lost an eye on the way back home so it could see his master again. He looked back up to the creature and smiled, seeing that it too had no use of the left eye, just like his childhood hero.
"I'll call you ... Charlie. I like that name." he replied finally as he stood up and trotted over to his desk and pulled out a pencil and paper. He looked back at it, before fetching the book off of the shelf.
"Chaaarliie..." it said to itself as it dragged out the syllables one by one. It looked around, and then back at the boy. He was drawing a haphazard picture of the creature, scribbling every detail as a child would do in their own way. After a few moments of uncounted silence, and he felt satisfied with the picture, he folded it crisply and stuck it in the middle of the book. The thing never looked away, sort of mesmerized by the child's movements.
When the boy was done, and the old book was left neatly upon the shelf, he again trotted over to the monster. Never quivering or shaking, he sat down on the plush carpet, looking at the shadowy being once more.
"Would you like to be my friend?"