Bearing the Burden

Ed knows he is somewhere else. This land is nothing like Earth. The world is brighter and quieter, and everything looks animated. "Maybe I'm dead, or high." Ed says out loud . "There is no one left alive that doesn't know what a grenade is".
"On Earth at least" he adds, shoulders dropping. He stops at a river to refill his water. He then finds a sheltered spot and sits there the remainder of the night. Not asleep, just sitting there, starring off.

At what Ed guesses to be about 6 Am he gets up and continues. He walks for about two hours before he comes upon a small cottage. He scans it from the woods.

"Here's the thing about houses, 80% of houses that you find intact are dead empty, but the other 20% will have the enemy in them, so if your in a house and you see someone who isn't wearing our uniform, you shoot them dead". "What about Civies?" asks Ed
"There are no more Civies..."

Ed shakes his head, his shoulders sag as he recalls the time his buddy Miller told him that. The Urban Rule of Thumb they called it, and time and time again Ed was shown that it is the painful truth.

He carefully approaches the building, using the blind spots to get close. He moves quietly and carefully checks the windows for movement. He comes around to the back and crouches down next to the back door.

He listens, the house is quiet. He slowly opens the door and scans his eyes and riffle across the room. Empty. He walks in and shuts the door behind him. He leans his riffle against the kitchen table and begins to search through the cupboards. He finds only some carrots. "Hm, good enough". Mumbles Ed as he sits down at the table.

He sits in the chair and takes of his helmet and pulls down his shemagh.
"H-Hello?" wispers a tiny voice.
Ed shoots up out of his chair and points his side arm right at the shaking creature standing in the doorway. His muscles are tense and his hand shakes.

Ed relaxes, and sits back down, putting his pistol on the table and releasing a sight of relief. "Its just another creature" thinks Ed
"What are you" the creature asks. It is nervous and still standing in the doorway and it is similar to all the other creatures but it has a light yellow coat with dull pink hair and butterflies on her flank.
"Well, from your perspective I am an animal."
At the last word, animal, it is visibly excited as it gets a unique look in its eyes. "Oh, I'm Fluttershy, you see I'm very good with animals."
"What kind I'd animal are you, I've never seen anything like you." Fluttershy adds.
"I am a human, do you mind asking what are you" says Ed.
"No not at all, I am a pony."
"Ah, I've seem a couple of them in the forest."
"You've been in the forest the last couple of days?" asks Fluttershy conceringly .

"Yes I have been, why do you ask?" answers Ed.
"The forest has become very dangerous lately, my friend, Applejack, was hurt in the forest. She was found unconscious and didn't know what attacked her."
"Also there are rumors that something attacked the Princess within a day of the other attack. The town is very scared." said Fluttershy seriously.
Ed's eyes look down at the table.
"So, where are you from, I've never had an animal that can talk?".

Ed's eyes shift back up. "I'm from Earth" says Ed, finally realizing this is no longer his home planet. "Took you long enough" he thinks.
Fluttershy has moved out of the doorway and stands next to Ed.
"Your skin is so interesting, it feels like fabric and has pockets in it, doesn't that hurt?" asks Fluttershy touching his pant leg.
"No this isn't my actual skin, I'm wearing clothes." says Ed
"Why?" asks Fluttershy curiously "We don't normally wear clothes here."
"Well, most of it is protective gear" answers Ed.
He had tall sturdy boots, thick pants with knee pads a combat shirt, strong gloves, a beat up helmet, and dirty shemagh. In fact the only place not covered is his eyes, but only because he was not wearing googles at the time.
"What is so dangerous that you need all this?"Asks Fluttershy curiously
"I'd rather not say"
"Oh ok, so you have skin under all this?"

"Yea" and Ed decides to roll up his sleeve to reveal his true form.
"Oh my" says Fluttershy quietly. "I'm not that white" thinks Ed, then he looks down.

His arm is covered in soot and dirt, with scars spread about. Long, thin trails of blood streak across his forearm and lead to the source, old cuts scabbed over. Through all this big, black bruises are still visible.

He stands up and walks out into the front room, where he finds a tall mirror. Ed stands in front of it and stares. His eyes scan up from the mud encrusted boots, up is gritty pants with greasy stains and a splotch of blood his thigh.
His eyes travel next to the thick body armor surrounding 170 pounds of muscle. Small burn marks scattered around and thick layer of grit and soot cover the armor.

Then his eyes fall upon his own face. It is dark with dirt, and there are dark circles under his tired gray eyes. His brown hair is matted down filled with sand at the top of his head, five feet and nine inches off the ground.

Ed is so entranced by how out of place he looks in this clean, light, colorful world, and how worn down he looks that he doesn't notice another pony entering the room.

"Fluttershy, look out!" shouts the other pony. Ed turns around and is met by two light blue hind legs hitting him square in the chest. Ed is caught by surprise and is knocked off his feet, landing with a crash.
Ed is at first surprised, but anger and adrenilen fills Ed. His fists clench, and he thinks of using his combat knife, and making it quick. But he remembers how long it has been since he beat the shit out of something.

He staggers up onto his feet. A cold, hard, flat look of anger fills his face. The light blue pony with wings sees this look and now realizes it has made a terrible mistake, as it freezes, paralyzed in fear. Ed gets a wicked smile on his face as he walks up to the pony and raises his fist high for a powerful blow on the scared pony.

A split second before Ed's fist strike down, a metal object hits him in the back of the head. It was meant to knock out Ed, but failed. It was strong enough to drop him to the ground though. His eyes shut tightly as he writhes in pain on the floor. Through a tunnel he can hear two voices, but can't make out what they are saying. He can hear the door opening and more voices come in, but lacks strength to turn over and look.

He is slipping away, and the last thing he remember before passing out is being turned over.

*For those who don't know a shemagh is, it is a large fabric square made of cotton, used in this story as a scarf by military personnel.