Protecting Derpy Hooves

The sun's rays shot through the window and landed on a brown face. The recently relaxed face soon scrunched up in annoyance. He opened one eye and then the other. He opened them wider in fright when he realized he was in an unfamiliar setting. He shot up, looking around frantically. He sighed as he remembered where he was. It was his new house. He moved here only the night before and he could already remember his fit that night. Pleading for his mother not to make him leave. He liked his friends too much to go down without a fight. But as soon as he started the argument, it was over. He knew he wasn't going to convince his mother to not move. He would just have to deal with it. And here he was, dealing it. He wouldn't have to go to school yet, his mother still had to sign him up. So he had one free day. He swung his legs over the bed and heaved himself off. Only to land on his face. His bed at his "old" house was lower to the ground. There was gonna be a lot of getting used to in this house. He picked himself up off the ground and made his way to the bathroom. Upon entering he met a face, his own, in the mirror. He had a brown coat with a few freckles on his cheeks. His silver hair was always a mess. But it suit him well. Like an organized mess. His eyes were a strong, vibrant blue. He turned to find his toothbrush but something caught his eye. Well, I guess you could say a lack of something caught his eye. On his hip, there was supposed to be a sort of tattoo. Called a cutie mark, which was a representation of what your special talent was. And his was not there. He'd get it eventually, though, right? He didn't think he'd never get his cutie mark, but getting it soon would surely be nice. After he brushed his teeth, he made his way downstairs.

"Foster! Breakfast is ready!" this was said by his mother. Who must have awoken long before him, since he hadn't heard any doors open or close. He made his way down the stairs, making sure to jump the last two. Guided by the smell of waffles, he made his way to the kitchen. Standing by an oven was a Earth mare with a brown coat and purple mane. With eyes of green. She smiled and hugged him.

"Good morning, Foster! How are you?" She asked.

"I'm alright, still getting used to this place," Foster replied, smiling back to his mother. He didn't know a lot about his mother. He wanted to get to know her better, have her tell him jokes, or stories, but the situation never arose. And, unfortunately, now wasn't a good time either. Foster was hungry. So he made his way to the table and seated himself.

"Sorry to hear, but, will a hot plate of waffles coated in syrup help?" She asked, already knowing the answer. Foster answered by licking his lips. Taking his fork, stabbed one, two waffles and dropped them on the plate set for him. Holding a bottle of syrup, Foster's mom placed it on the table. Foster thanked her and began to pour it on the waffles. Taking the fork, again, he began to eat. The combination of the waffles and syrup warming his belly. Halfway through his meal, his mother grabbed his attention.

"Well, love, I gotta go sign you up for school. Don't groan. You'll have plenty of fun. Why don't you go look around, just lock the door when you leave." And with that, Foster's mother had departed.

Foster finished his breakfast and washed the plate and fork, placing in the sun to dry. He ran back up to his room and grabbed the key that was given to him the night before. Back down the stairs and out the door went Foster. Locking it behind him. Galloping, he made his way down the dirt path. Past all the looming trees. He made a mental note to climb these trees someday. He surveyed his area when he got to the end of the path. Technically, he lived just outside of Ponyville. He remembered this when he saw a sign saying 'Ponyville' and pointing to the right. He followed the direction of the sign and found himself on a cobblestone path. The path turned and he was greeted by several buildings and a few ponies. Each one talking to each other. Foster made his way through and thought about where he should go. His ears perked up as he listened to a new conversation from a pair of mares coming around the corner of a building.

"I just feel so bad for her, you know?" one said.

"Yeah, it's only the second day of the week and it's already happened four times," said the other. Intrigued, Foster walked in the direction that the two mares came from. He began to hear some sort of whimper, but it was muffled. He rounded the building to see a filly with her face buried in her hooves. From what Foster could see, she had a beautiful blonde mane with a gray coat. She also had no cutie mark. Around her was two stallions, and one mare. The stallion began to speak.

"Oh come on, blank flank, quit your crying," The mare also spoke.

"Let me see those eyes, blank flank. I'm in the mood to laugh," she said, the group all laughing. Foster ground his teeth. This mare was being bullied.