Author's Note

Welp, this chapters were part of the story The Beginning: Where It All Starts. However, I couldn't just erase them after making them, so I just separated them and will continue working on them as a side-story now.

This said, I will work on this story at a slower pace than my other stories, so expect slow updates, which will occur after every five chapters or so added to one of my other stories.

Normality is Overrated - The Green Cat

(??? POV)

The afternoon sun – or what I’m guessing is past noon – is casting a warm light on this western-like town. Combined with the occasional cool breeze, it’s no joke when I say I can lie on the grass and doze off almost immediately.

But there’s so much in my mind I can hardly think straight, and when I do have moments of peace in my head, I think back to the night I faced Nightmare Moon. If that actually happened.

The factors backing it up are: where did she go, and the small time it took me to get into…Fauna’s…house – the one that’s probably been abandoned for years. It took me…I don’t really know how long it took me, but I’m sure it was more than the one minute gallop back to her house.

That forest-NO! Maybe even this world doesn’t make sense! This town…is beyond weird.

The walk in here was as I expected. Long, boring, the barren ground wasn’t hard on my hooves, but what really stood out was the unforgivable heat beating me down constantly. I was saved by all the sweat covering me. *Sigh* It was really dumb of me to wear a scarf…actually, the scarf was cold. Like a portable air conditioner for my shoulders to the head, and I won’t ask how that’s possible because it kept me from dehydrating to death. If I hadn’t had it-NO! I shook my head forcefully, Nonononono! I’m alive! F-Fauna is right. I still have that. I took a deep breath and released it, calming my nerves. I tilted my head to the side, But did I really meet Fauna or- I shook my head in hopes to finally get rid of those thoughts. That doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter.

I bit my lower lip to fight a sharp pain in my chest. It-it happened. W-whatever that was, it happened. The tightness in my chest loosened, letting me release a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

Just…focus on what’s right here. The strangeness about this town, the one I can see and feel at the moment, is the grass that covers the streets and the air that sends a pleasant chill down my back.

Why is it that out there felt like the sun was trying to kill me, but in here, I moved my gaze directly at the sun, but I don’t feel the punishing fire on my eyes. Instead, the sun is like a luminescent orb with rays pleasant for the eyes and warm for the skin…coat actually.

The more I stare, the less I have to fight against my eyes to keep them open. *Yaaaawn* I stretched my forelegs up and my legs out until I heard them pop. Then I slumped back on the bench; my head barely touching the back as I lazily watch the mostly clear skies.

There’s a reason why I said ‘mostly’, and that keeps adding to the strangeness of the place. Can I get a break and see something normal? Is that too much to ask? The clouds’ - four of them - color are at least a normal white; they are puffy, close to an oval shape, and focusing just enough, I can tell two are wrinkled like a dried grape.

And everything I mentioned after the color white is the strange part (I should get a quarter every time I use the word strange, and I be rich in a day). First off: clouds aren’t supposed to have any form of shape; they’re more like the random splotches of a canvas. Second: they are positioned on top of the town as if anchored to the place, and there’s not a single cloud anywhere else. Third – and the reason of my distress –: why are they so close to the ground?! Shouldn’t clouds be thousands of feet in the air? So why…

I bend my head forward, letting it hang idly and drawing a long tired sigh. Somehow, I’m a bigger idiot for expecting something normal.

And in my line of sight is the grass that breaks the natural laws I saw on the way here.
I stared for a while longer until I decided I’m not going to break my head over this. I will just…let it go.

It’s safer for my sanity to focus on my main problem: how to get back home.

I crossed my forelegs, but when they were pressed against my chest, I could feel the last traces of hot sweat against my skin. I managed to ignore it, So how do I do it? Find some mystical portal? Look for an old wise wizard? How about-

A long, deep growl cuts my thoughts short, and…my cheeks are probably as red as a tomato at this point. I moved my han-hooves over my stomach while I looked at the sides frantically.

The bench I’m sitting is near the edge of the town, with the back facing the relentless wasteland that’s a few yards away. Colored ponies – wearing bandanas, scarfs or occasionally hats (just plain hats) – trot the street in front; I see groups of them chatting, smaller ones running to someplace and most entering and exiting of what I’m guessing are restaurants, but none are glancing my direction.

My stomach has quieted without me noticing, but now I can’t ignore it because of the pain. It begins growling again, demanding me to feed it anything. And I’m serious about the anything part. Even if bugs are in a pony’s diet, I doubt my stomach would mind much.

The thought of it makes me want to vomit. I pressed a hoof against my muzzle, and when nausea left as fast as it came, I swallowed for good measure. But I found the simple act painful and almost impossible to do; I swallowed harder, desperate to get some liquid down my dry throat.

After I forced it down, I’m left panting while licking my lips to keep them wet. My breaths become shallow as the gravity of my situation sinks deep into my head.

I hugged myself for support before my body trembled on its own, Breathe. Breathe. Remember to breathe. That becomes hard to do as every breath sends small jolts of pain around my chest. Almost as if my own body is beginning to give up on me.

Again and again I try, but I always get the same painful result until my lungs decided to work properly. Then my body followed their example and calmed down, but, despite how terrifying it was, it did some good. It helped me realize how bad things actually are: I don’t have money, I will always be a stranger no matter where I go, I don’t know the first thing of survival or living by myself, and I don’t know anything about this world other that it has forests, towns and the other unexplainable abnormalities!

I looked back at the street, worried that I might have attracted attention, but I see everypony going on with whatever activity they’re doing.

Is it lucky that no one has paid me attention, or is it just me being inconspicuous as a shadow? I pondered over the pros and cons, but settled in with what I think it’s best, I need to learn how to act normal around this ponies. It’s bad enough my body gives the wrong impression, I don’t anypony to think I’m strange. Heh, me strange. That’s funny.

Knowing that staying seated all day classifies as strange, I took a final deep breath to calm the last of my nerves before venturing into the unknown again. That and I need to find something to eat and a way to buy the food.

“REJOICE BLACKWOOD!” I almost jumped off my seat, and had the voice not sounded friendly, I might’ve actually done it.

The ponies on the street turned towards the source and made way for something to pass. What I see first is a bright green pony with white short mane and tail; then the cart he’s strapped to is carrying various green flowers. What kind they are, all I can see is green.

The pony unstraps himself in record time, literally stepping forward before the cart tilts forward because of the absence of a driver. His toothy grin is impossible to miss however, something that can be a sign of confidence or arrogance. He stands on his hind legs with his hooves raised high, “I brought you the fruits of your late Father!”

An entire chorus of *GASPS* fill the air. Silence follows as the male pony goes to all fours and chuckles at their flabbergast expressions.

Did I…miss something? My voice of reason answers me, You’re new here, so probably some kid’s birthday. A drunkard getting drunk in a bar and kicked out. And let’s not forget that rich couple arguing of why they wanted a second kid in the first place.

I decided to ignore most of what it said – especially the last part –, and pay attention to something that doesn’t kill my already low self-esteem.

“How do we know you’re not another pretender?” I don’t know who it was amongst the crowd, but I did recognize an accent, not southern, but it made the words more drawn out. I can only describe it as someone over-pronouncing the words. “I never seen you around. That means you’re not from around here.”

“Yeah! That’s right!” The cheery pony talks normal English.

“Why should ya have something only Father and his children can grow?!” …This is an odd mixture of southern and a drawn-out speech.

The local population, what I assume because of the ‘subtle’ hints in word choices, is glaring at the outsider with different levels of anger that I thought one of them would start yelling.

This pony though, seems unaffected, “I could go to detail of how my village’s Elder sensed the illness of your beloved Father.” Their anger changed to mild confusion. “I could recite the prayers she conveyed to the devas.” Now the murmurs started, too many for me to hear anything but garbled words. “Lady Viola is worried sick for the future of your village, so I took it upon myself to see her wishes come true.”

I’m lost at this point; I don’t have the slightest clue of what’s being mentioned here. But what’s clear is the skeptic of some ponies, but the rest I can only describe as hopefulness.

The bright green pony arched an eyebrow, “Since words are not enough to convince the nonbelievers, then a second opinion will prove what I said at the start: this is the fruits of your late Father.”

A white light surrounds his forehead as if-He’s a unicorn?! I swear, there are times I can’t even trust my 20/20 eyesight…or maybe that’s me not paying enough attention.

By the end of my small realization, a flower surrounded by the same light is hovering next to him, and thinking about it, that smug of his never left him, “I’m all aware, hehe, pretenders have attempted deceit this town for every last bit, so choose amongst yourself the pony who you trust that will give their honest opinion.”

His gaze wanders around some more as the murmurs resume. A voice, much like my own, starts voicing its own thoughts, I bet he rehearsed that line until he could say it with a straight face, and you know what, I raise with the money under my pillow, that the per-pony who comes up, is in league with that guy.

“I will go!” A female pony - brown coat and dark mane styled to the side - from the side walks towards him.

That was a little too energetic, my eyes narrowed as my brow furrowed in agreement.

Their nods of approvement go wasted as-she stops and smiles at the many locals who are probably her friends.

I blinked. Now realizing I’m making that face, I rubbed my eyes to get rid all signs of its existence. With fully open eyes and a (hopefully) neutral expression, in case somebody decides to glance my way – which will probably not happen – I refocused as the unicorn…um…levitated the flower to her…hoof. ...I have to learn how to speak ‘normal’...again.

She examines the flower from all angles and even gives the pony a cold look from what I can tell; he shrugs and motions towards the plant with his head.

So the ponies and I watch as she inches the flower closer to her snout. I wonder how suspenseful this is for everybody else? A long glance at the ponies gathered, now all of them are watching wide-eyed and a few are biting the edges of their hooves – similar to how a nervous person bites their nails.

The simultaneous gasp drew my eyes into the main event again. Right now she’s chewing with about half of the stem left on her hoof.

Again, the importance of this is lost on me, and I’m wondering why I am still watching thi-my eyes shot open at what I hope is the heavenly taste of that flower doing their magic. After the pony swallowed the flower and whatever substances it had, her eyes slowly turned wider into perfect circles which shouldn’t be nor-forget it; I decided to give up on the word normal while in this place. The leftover stem falls out of her grasp, and when the stem finally touched grass, everyone’s attention focused back on the green pony with a harsh glare as someone shouts “What in Tartarus was in that bucking flower!?”

“How was it?” Hard to believe he isn’t stuttering under the atmosphere.

“That… That… That.” I began hoping to be right about this. That the taste it has left her dumbfounded. After the fifth ‘That’, her mane and tail spiked. Literally, now her side hair turned into black spikes that decorate the side of her face; her tail resembles dozens of black thorns clustered unorderly.

“Huh,” even without the word normal in my vocabulary, that was…was…I got no words how to describe this other than how I’m feeling: confused.

Her lips quivered for some moments until they’re pulled into the longest smile that should’ve split her face, “I tasted the forest!”

“Huh?!” What comes next are the long cheers of ovations from the crowd, “Weren’t they angry a second ago.” No reason to keep it to myself if no one’s listening.

Hats, bandanas and scarfs are thrown airborne and then they…stomp the ground? I’m left staring as the green pony joins in with a loud, hearty laugh.

“Is this…clapping?” If I hadn’t seen this, I would’ve never made the connection.

“I hope that clears all suspicion of my origins. Now,” His cheerful expression turned somber faster than what I could register it, but the ponies watching are giving him a concerned eye for reasons I will never understand, “Lady Viola would never admit this openly, but Creepyparlor’s been suffering…financial issues.”

Everywhere I could see, the ponies were eyeing this pony with concern, and I’m on the sidelines watching with confusion and incredulity. Are they…really buying this? This guy could be lying and they’re just-

“How much?” The silence really helped her sweet tone – the one with black thorns for hair - project for everypony’s ears.

I blinked twice, finding it hard to believe this is really happening as the green pony gives the meekest of smiles, “One bit for each flower.”

I began coughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the offer. I can’t count the exact number of flowers in the cart – nor know the money value of…bits –, but a quick glance tells me there are hundreds there. Once my coughing fit ended, my eyes returned to the cause of my annoyance.

These ponies…are doing exactly what naive youngsters do when watching a beaten puppy on the street: watch it sympathetically with a sad frown that turns into a kind smile. What they don’t know is that same puppy has strong canines that will chomp down on anything that’s edible.

“I will take ten!” She holds up a hoof with some gold and silver coins that she pulled from…actually, I got no clue where she pulled them from. And for my sanity’s sake, I dropped the question.

And soon after the first purchaser, many more joined.

“I want twenty!”

“McPants, don’t eat a single one of them!”

“One bite, and it’s my money anyways!”

“Do you have other colors than green!?”

I take this guy is not claustrophobic, because he’s swarmed by multicolored ponies from all angles. Becoming lost in a sea of colors as I formed reasons of everything that’s wrong at the moment, This could still be a trick. Maybe the first one was the only real one and the rest are fakes. Gain the trust of your buyers so they buy quick and go satisfied, then you yourself sneak out from the center and leave before your scam is revealed.

I stared for a couple of more seconds. Then everything doubled on its own with my head becoming weightless as air. After some failed attempts, my hoof finally grabbed the arm of the bench to keep myself from falling, and when a moment passed, I noticed my heartbeat began to slow down. ...It slowed down...slowed down...slowed down...as if-my eyes widened. I pressed my other hoof against my soaked chest and started forcing the breaths rhythmically.

I should be scared, by all means crying and begging for help. But after my heartbeat returned to normal, my stomach redoubled its efforts to gain my attention, and if its threats are any indication, it’s going to get worse.

My chest rises and lowers in a slow rhythm as another hungry roar enters my ears. It got louder as I remembered that pony eating-no, that’s not the right word. Savoring, yeah, that’s the right word, savoring that flower until she chewed it the enough for her stomach to take in the second round. Piece. By. Piece.

I’m over-exaggerating something so simple, but starvation is making me reconsider eating bugs – if it’s in their diet of course. Then it hit me. Ponies eat grass! I smiled – maybe bordering manic levels but nobody is paying me attention, so it’s fine – at the simple solution to my life-threatening problem.

I seen that pony eat a flower, so grass should be like eating a cookie. I began searching all around me. Not sure why exactly. Maybe for a good patch of grass that’s a little greener than the rest.

But I found something that drew a long drool, and it’s the kind that starts on both ends of the mouth and leaks like a broken pipe.

I began thinking of the possible flavors this daisy could have; it’s small actually, and right next to the bench’s leg too, so I don’t have to walk much.

If it’s like eating a cookie, what flavor would it have? Chocolate chip? No. An oatmeal? Doesn’t look like an oatmeal. Vanilla? A vanilla frosted cookie? …Its petals are white.

Vanilla…now that’s a flavor I ki-do anything after the inferno I survived. My free hoof hovers closer to it, and I mean hover for my limb feels…numb. As if all nerves turned off and it’s nothing more than a movable prosthetic (I would call it robotic arm, but then I still feel the cold metal against my skin).

I hunched down, about to grab it when a very, powerful gust comes out of the blue and pushes the bench off its legs and onto its back, with me rolling to my stomach from the impact and groaning as pain is registered throughout my body.

To somebody with more mass on their muscle (and having some muscle to begin with), this pain could’ve easily been brushed off. I rose to my hooves gently, and I stood still until my knees stopped shaking.

Looking past the fallen bench, the crowd of ponies are still doing…business with the other pony. What happened to me, clearly didn’t reach them. That, or they’re used to spontaneous gusts with the power to throw a pony my size...this statement lost all value. Moving on.

Something from above did catch my attention. It’s a light…well…it’s difficult to understand how a rainbow, thin streak is in the air. I turned around to follow where it leads, and at some insane distance, cause I don’t know how something managed to fly that far, is a small black figure at the end of the rainbow.

I’m far from discovering the identity of this pony, or its color scheme. The rainbow thingy gives me a clue, but I’m not sure if that’s the coat or the mane.

I kept staring at the lone figure as the rainbow strip dissolves from my end towards it.

Then, as quick as it flew over there, it disappeared to someplace.

…What was that? *Sigh* If I get distracted like with those crazy, emotional ponies, I will get more hungry and then I’m in real trouble. I pondered on that one for a moment and tilted my head, I’m already in trouble. …food…FLOWER!

I turned to the last spot of my free snack to find…it gone. Did it get…blown away? I rubbed my forehead, hopping that the headache will leave me alone. What…am I going to do now?
Staying here won’t help me, so with a final sigh, I walked over to my saddlebags that have also fallen with me.

“Huh?” There’s something white on top, and when I walked over to it, the identity of the object was…anticlimactic to discover.

It’s just a piece of paper. A thorn piece of paper from top and bottom, and the writing it has is firm with straight lines:

Just know I’m a huge fan,

and I wish you luck in tomorrow’s race.

Did this come from that pony? I rubbed off the last beads of sweat I will probably shed, and extended my hoof to grab it and throw it away. But stopped within an inch from reaching it.

…I couldn’t grab a spoon, but I could grab a scarf. Can I grab a piece of paper? Looking back, I don’t know how I lifted it in the first place. Thinking about made my nose scrunch in response, I wonder how I look right now. If only I had a mirror-getting sidetracked. Focus!

I pressed my hoof against the surprisingly soft material, Wh-what is this made of? Silk? Shaking those pointless questions away, I scuffed my hoof away. The wind can take care of it. I have too many troubles to go look for a trash-the moment I pressed my hoof on the ground, something smooth stood between it and the grass.

I shifted the hoof a bit, getting an idea of what it is…How? I raised it so I can get a long look at the base, and there it is: the back part of the paper, a golden color. It’s flat out on the base as if pressed to it, …How?

I shook it, but it remained there. I pressed the hoof against the grass and started scrubbing, then raised it to find the paper still there. …But how? I-I’m not applying pressure or anything.

Right there I considered pulling it off with my teeth, but when I turned my hoof sideways, I could no longer see it. I furrowed my brows before turning my hoof to see the paper. Turned it sideways again and could no longer see it, turned it back and there’s the golden color again.

Thinking fast, with the word food coming twice, I sat on my haunches and tried scraping it with the other hoof. But kept failing as if scratching over one surface. Uuumm…this is not good. I’m getting nervous because I’m going to add another problem to my mental list of problems.

Problem number one: Find a way back home. Problem number two: eat something! If can’t, eat grass, and with luck, it’s safe for a pony’s diet. Problem number three: not looking forward for a long stay, but money is required to survive. Problem number four (last one for now because the list goes on to number twenty): Try not to choke when clearing confusion about my…gender.

I started rubbing my forehead, then switched hoof because the one I was using, paper patched, is frictionless, thus, no good for rubbing.

It’s just a piece of paper. I will forget it’s there and it will fall…whenever my hoof decides to. I knew the entire concept of adapting to a new body is going to be…challenging, but simple stuff like grabbing is too difficult. Then too simple that’s impossible to undo.

After setting the hoof down, I got up to all four and lifted my saddlebags with my nose first – It felt like the natural thing to do. Then raised my nose up high and it slid down onto my back.
I was about to shift the weight, but it already felt right, …This body is so weird.

After I *sighed* for what is hopefully the last time – which will be when my life takes a turn for the better -, I walked around the poor, forgotten bench and made my way down the street.

(Third POV)

The male pony keeps moving with a listless motion in his steps; his nose is pointing down as his eyes, a tired and dreary look on them, stare at the grass below. His equine body has lost its filly-like curves, and his legs have also lost mass of his own, appearing more thin and weak than before.

A few seconds of nothingness pass as he walks besides his first building while in town. ...So, now what?

He doesn’t get an answer, but it isn’t like he was expecting one. He walks past the first building, and continues without paying mind to his surroundings.

“Would the madam like to purchase the finest goods of my collection?”

With a tiny ‘Eeeck’ and a jump, he spun to his right with a hoof pressed over his chest as his eyes stare wide in fear.

In front of him is the same unicorn seller - a paw print over dirt as a cutie mark – with a green flower floating above him. He rubs the back of his head while smiling sheepishly.

(??? POV)

I only assume he thinks he ruined his chance on something. And I pray it’s a sale attempt and not the common mistake many make.

“I-um, I-what did you say,” that would have sounded rude in someone else’s voice. In mine and in the unintentional way I’m posing with my hoof…let’s say it did its ‘magic’.

The green unicorn “Were are my manners? The name’s Trace. Tom Trace.” The unicorn known as Tom Trace is using the same soft tone many (not rather keep a track) ‘elegant’ men use on woman they find attractive.

Oh, God, why? Does he not see this hair?! …I didn’t just worry about my hair! Nope! I didn’t! I didn’t! I didn’t! As I kept my mantra on, and the heat on my cheeks becoming known, Tom decided to continue on.

“Either you don’t like the color green, or I take it you’re not from around here,” he chuckled to his own little joke, “so let me be the first to give you a proper welcome to Blackwood Town.”

I listened to most of it, but before I could ask a question, he hovered the green flower in between us. Its petals, trimmed cut edges and bright green as the unicorn, are arranged similar to a bouquet, but something…peculiar about this is how big they are. I never seen this type of flower, but I’m sure they’re not supposed to be half a foot long. That last thing reminds me of the flower Fauna gave me.

“I…I don’t have any money.”

“It’s on the wagon.”

“W-what,” I moved my hoof down and tilted my head.

“He he,” Tom floated the flower next to him so I can meet his gaze again, “What I meant was, it’s on the house. I couldn’t help it since all I’m going to leave and live in a wagon.” Then he muttered something about ‘and bits’, but I could be wrong.

I looked around him, a small path from the crowd leading to the wagon.

“After almost two long years, we will finally regain our lost province!”

“This is a gift from the nature spirits!”

“This day and forth, we will prove Animus that Father’s stallions and fillies are the best in the country!”

Only the screamers could be heard from the excited shouts, and I’m glad to be at a safe distance from any permanent ear damage. “They sound excited.”

“That’s how they are when offered a good deal, but,” I looked back at him, instead of a smile though, there’s a grim expression with eyes (intentionally?) boring into me. He leans forward, our noses almost touching as his voice lowered for only my ears, “they can be aggressive against anypony who insults their lifestyle. It only revolves around two rules though, so you’re good if you plan on staying for one day.”

“I-I’m staying for some hours,” After eating flowers and anything this body will take.

He stayed quiet afterwards, and the invasion of personal space isn’t helping my uneasiness.

In an instant, that long grin I first seen him with reappears as his gaze softens, “For that reason I want you to take this.” He leans back and the flower with overgrown petals floats between us. I was going to protest I couldn’t take free stuff without paying – in my case it would’ve been a failed attempt since…I’m technically broke –, but the flower that flew in my snout stopped me, “Creepyparlor’s inhabitants are known to never take a no as an answer, and the Spring Blossom will keep you on your feet till the end of the day. Besides, I will feel as trash if I let somepony in your condition wander unfed.”

I looked to the side with a small blush forming – Not for those reasons! It’s that…It’s that somebody actually…worried about me…

“Sorry. Is everything okay?” I heard his concern, but answered with a nod while rubbing the tears off. “Say, if you got no place to go by the end of the day, stop by the hotel. The only hotel in town, and I can give you a free of charge, ride to my hometown. I’m sure the Elder will fix all your problems; she did fix me and that was no easy job.”

I nodded, still refusing to look at him in the eye. I rather not get emotional again and cry, especially in public.

“Right. How about checking the place around? Might be the last time you’re around these parts.”
I nodded, Guess it’s time I leave him alone. He’s busy, unlike me.

Following his suggestion, I turned to my left and began walking. Well, I got a flower, and got some-pony to give me a ride. …I really need to speak up. Getting out of my thoughts, I just noticed I been chewing. For how long? Doesn’t matter. I’m finally getting something to eat, and thankfully it’s not from the ground.

As I continued on, saliva started running all inside my mouth despite the day I had. But right now instead of solving the mystery of where the saliva came from, all I can focus on is the soft taste of salad, along with something familiar…but I can’t quite place it-

This sweet enjoyment is short lived as my stomach growls its demands. I – with delight – swallow. This introduces the sweetest, coldest – below brain freeze temperature –, most delicious vanilla flavor swimming down my yearning throat.

It might not have been water, but it was the best substitute I could have asked for.

*Hic*

Accompanied with a small jump, I covered my mouth before any more hiccups follow.

(Third POV)

Had Tom not been occupied in attention his customers, he would have seen the black “mare’s” posture has straightened. His slim legs stand firm, and his body, healthy as the first time he woke up, has its natural curves back. His coat and mane have a healthier shine, but with no apparent changes on the latter.

The human turned pony sets his hoof down, and continues forward with a small smile as the path ahead isn’t so terrifying anymore. Now, curiosity about the town has set forth in his mind as his worries have been cast aside, ready to deal with them when the time comes.