I.
The gray foal lay on his side, kicking his tiny legs erratically in the grass. He was dreaming of running, as usual. The dream ended and he raised his head, blinking once as he scanned the horizon. Pushing himself up and rising on all fours, he gave a small whinny as he looked around for his mother.
The meadow was lush and covered in thick grass that was perfect for sleeping in. It was dotted by the little yellow flowers he liked. Feeling a slight rumble in his belly, he bent down, poking his muzzle through the grass to find one. He found it and bit down, clamping the flowery head in his teeth and pulling it up. He enjoyed the soft texture along with the grass he’d taken along with it as well as the slight sweetness of the nectar. He chewed and then looked around once again.
The rest of the herd was idly grazing nearby. A few of the other foals were frollicking and chasing each other, running circles around the other mares, wary not to disturb the lead stallion. He didn’t see his mother at first, so he gave another whinny, his ears upright and rotating.
At once, his mother, a brown mare with a blonde mane, raised her head. She was standing behind one of the other mares, the buckskin filly’s mother, and she gave a whinny in response at the sound of his voice.
The gray foal galloped over to her. She lowered her head and nuzzled his neck. He felt her warm breath on his skin and heard her nicker once before she returned to grazing. He moved alongside her, brushing up against her long legs. He was only a few months old and still nursing and considered getting some milk, but changed his mind when the buckskin filly came into view.
She reared up, kicking her forelegs, and hopped around him. He trotted toward her and she broke into a run. Immediately, he began chasing her, galloping after as she went in circles around the adults. The brown and white colt joined in the chase and the three foals went all over the herd, their hooves kicking up dirt and pounding out a furious rhythm until, hearts thundering and nostrils flaring as they caught their breath, they finally stopped and rejoined their mothers.
The gray foal was about to rest in the grass when the lead stallion, black with white hooves, and the lead mare, all white, began to move away. The rest of the herd all turned in the same direction. They went over the little hill.
Far off in the distance, he could see the mountains. Sniffing the air, he looked up and saw the bright blue sky and stretched his back, enjoying the sensation of the warm sun even as a cool breeze shifted down to them. They would move on until the lead mare chose where to graze.
II.
The lead stallion was his sire. He was tall and strong and he, along with the spotted brown stallion, kept the little herd secure. They were twelve in all, bigger than other herds that he had seen so far in their travels through the grasslands. At night, when the wolves and pumas sometimes emerged from the forest, the lead stallion and the spotted brown stallion would keep watch, snorting and pawing the ground and loudly neighing to alert the others. The mares helped too, of course, should it be necessary.
Wolves frightened the gray foal, naturally. He’d heard them snarling in the darkness one night and followed his mother as she and the other mares circled around him and the other foals. He noticed the next day that there was one less among them: the black-maned older filly.
Even so, he was cautious around the lead stallion. He lowered his head and kept his ears back when the lead stallion was close, trying his best not to get too near him. The lead stallion was known to nip at foals who bothered him. But that was not why he was afraid.
It had been a few weeks ago. The brown mare with the white patches had laid down to foal. He had been curious, but she kicked away at any of the young ponies who came too close and his mother held him back. He couldn’t see what was happening over in the grass, but he heard the sounds and caught the scents. Eventually, he saw the brown mare stand and begin to nuzzle and clean off her new foal.
With his own birth, the gray foal had slowly risen to his hooves after a short time, occasionally tumbling down on his wobbly legs before managing to find his balance and seeking milk. He’d known to stand instinctively. There was nothing to it.
But the newborn foal had not stood. It kicked and raised its head and even got up on its forelegs, but its back legs gave out again and again. The herd had stayed in the same spot for hours, and many of the mares and the two stallions began to snort and paw at the ground, impatient and ready to move on. There were other herds nearby, and they would cross paths, which could cause trouble if they had to fight for grazing areas.
The newborn foal’s mother had continued to nuzzle and encourage it to stand, waiting for it to take those first steps and drink its first milk. And then the lead stallion came over.
At first, the lead stallion had likewise nuzzled it, trying to use his muzzle to steady the foal as it tried again to get up and failed, legs buckling. The little thing had neighed plaintively up at him. This carried on for what seemed a long while. What happened next, the gray foal would never forget.
The lead stallion had reached down and bit into the neck of the foal, lifting it up and tossing it into the air before letting it land on the ground. The mares began neighing furiously even as the lead stallion had again picked up the newborn foal and thrown it to the ground, thrashing it again and again on the ground as the mares tried to stop him.
The incident had gone by in only a few moments, but the dust cleared and the herd slowly began to move at the lead stallion and mares’ urging. The newborn foal’s mother had sniffed at the body, kneeling down and nuzzling it one last time. The gray foal had come close and seen it lying there, its chest not rising or falling. It was gray, like himself, and its black, glassy eyes stared up with a frozen and empty gaze.
The herd moved off. The gray foal looked back at the spot where the newborn had died. The large, black birds were already descending upon it.
III.
At the river one day, the herd stopped for a drink. The mares and their foals splashed into the shallow water by the riverbank, enjoying the cool sensation of the water as it lapped over their hooves and onto their legs.
The lead mare had climbed onto a higher embankment by the shore and raised her head, looking across the river and sniffing the air. Whatever she smelled, likely good food, it must have enticed her, for she have a whinny and started across the river. The rest began to move across it as well, making for the opposite shore.
The buckskin filly squealed and pawed at the ground nervously, but her mother nipped at her and urged her on into the water. The gray foal’s own apprehension grew, but feeling his mother pushing him onward made him go as well.
The water was cold and, he found, deep. Soon his hooves could barely scrape the bottom and he started to tread water. The sound of heavy breathing and the splashing of the others as they churned through the river was all around him. Then there was a sudden rush of water, and the strong current began to pull him downstream.
He raised his head and neighed in panic. He heard his mother somewhere and he neighed again, but the water splashed over his head and he began to choke.
Suddenly there was heavier splashing and something clamped onto the back of his neck. Something pulled him back, closer to the opposite shore, and his hooves found their footing again. Breathing heavily, he emerged and turned to face his rescuer.
The lead stallion stood there. He leaned down and nuzzled him once, rubbing up against his neck, and then stepped away as the gray foal’s mother came up alongside him, practically smothering him with her own nuzzles. They all climbed onto the opposite bank and, once they were a safe distance from the river, they stopped to rest. Wet and still cold, he laid against his mother, feeling the steady beat of her heart as she groomed him.
They would rest a short while before moving on toward their next destination. As they went, the gray foal trotted alongside the lead stallion. Even as the other colts and fillies stared on, the gray foal stood nearby and nuzzled his sire when they paused. The lead stallion nickered and nuzzled him back, briefly. They would go a few more kilometers before gathering up for the night.
It was the last night before things changed.
IV.
The gray foal was asleep, laying on his side in the thick grass nearby his mother. The sounds of the crickets and hooting owls from the nearby forest went unheeded, as did the low, almost groaning sounds of the bullfrogs at the pond near the bottom of the hill. Some of the other ponies snored peacefully.
Then came the lights.
They blasted down onto the meadow brighter than midday and the sudden sound of the massive thing overhead caused the adults to rear up and whinny wildly, kicking their forelegs as they jumped around in a panic. The gray foal was on his hooves in an instant, but the bright light stabbed into his eyes from overhead as a fierce wind was kicked up. He whinnied for his mother and he heard her voice, and yet it seemed to be not only farther away from him, but… above him?
He managed to look up, neighing again for her even as the bright, circular lights shone down. In terror, he began to gallop in an effort to get away from whatever it was in the sky overhead. But then, even as he galloped, his hooves left the ground and he was treading and kicking in midair. Something was pulling him up and he kicked at nothingness as his heart nearly beat right out of his chest.
But then something came over him. Some strange, warming numbness overtook him and his eyes felt heavy. Slowly, despite his fear, he felt himself drifting off to sleep.
V.
His head felt heavy. He blinked and again found himself surrounded by brightness. But this was not the same piercing brightness as before. Nor was it loud, and there was no wind now. He raised his head, his ears twitching again as he listened, his eyes becoming used to the area.
The gray foal was in a small area. The walls were flat and straight and shear, not like anything he had ever seen. His hooves made a peculiar sound on the smooth surface and they slipped as he stood. He sniffed around, but could smell nothing.
The room was blank, the walls shining like the reflection on water, but still and without the shimmer and movement. He sniffed at the wall and tried to bite at it, but it was hard and he could not latch onto anything. his tongue pressed against it and it had a faint alkaline taste. It was like stone, but smooth and cold. He looked around and saw that there were three walls all around him, followed by one wall that he could see through, but when he approached it, his muzzle bumped into it. It was hard and clear. He had never seen ice, but even if he had, he would notice that it was not cold like ice.
Outside the clear wall and across from him, he could see one of the mares: the buckskin filly’s mother. But when he looked around, he could not see his own.
He sniffed at the air and cast his gaze all around, but he did not see her. He did not smell her. She was not there.
His heart began to beat rapidly as his fear grew. His mother was not there.
He lifted his head and let out a neigh, calling for her. There was no response.
His fear was growing. Without his mother, who would feed him? Who would protect him? Who would keep him warm at night or comfort him when he was afraid?
He began to run around the small room, bucking and kicking, squealing and whinnying for her. He kicked the walls and dashed back and forth fitfully. He slipped on the smooth floor, his hooves sliding out from under him and he fell, hitting the ground, his head banging against the wall.
It hurt. He shook his head, but the throbbing pain was there. He wanted his mother to keep him safe. He let out a long whinny again, his throat aching as he cried again and again. And yet she was not coming.
He was going to starve. He was going to die without her.
VI.
In the area above, Solkyp examined the monitor. He turned to his comrade, who walked over to him. The two were tall, thin creatures, their smooth skin black and shiny and speckled with glittering white dots like the stars in the night sky.
“It progresses,” Solkyp said.
His comrade, Ychtcarm glanced down at the monitor. “This is folly.”
“Folly?”
Ychtcarm leaned against the instrument, resting her hands against the panel. “The plan is folly. The consequences are unknown. We interfere.”
Solkyp looked away, his white eyes glowing as he looked to see what his other comrades were doing. Then he looked back to Ychtcarm and rested his four-fingered hand on her shoulder. “The Administrator wills it.”
“The Administrator errs. Our work diverts this planet’s course.”
The sound of footsteps. “You say the truth. But our earlier folly, the experiments, did so already.”
They turned. Nolras stood there. “It is true. We interfere, we harm these creatures. But the experiments in this sector caused the effects. The planet slows. The sun will cease, the weather will cease, and the flora will not provide. The creatures of this world will expire. We intervene because we must, or else they will perish in only a few thousand cycles.”
The two bowed their heads.
“You speak truth. Gratitude, Nolras.” Solkyp led his partner away and let Nolras operate the machinery.
What he had said was the truth. In only a few thousand years, the gravitational effects of this system would destabilize and the inhabited planet would cease its orbit. And then all the lifeforms, primitive and unintelligent though they were, would die. The Administrator, back on the homeworld, had decided that their irresponsibility had caused this and that such a thing should not come to pass.
They had invigorated the ether and used it to augment the orbits. And yet this would need constant vigilance. They required others to take up the responsibility. They decided that the creatures of this planet would do so.
“Their doubts are shared,” said another, stepping over from her station. “The ungulates are the only ones receptive to the augmentation, though they lack the cognition of the primates. And yet I believe that they will develop and adapt to become the stewards of this place. Until then, the Caretaker will provide for them, once it is in place.”
Nolras turned to face her. “Aftus… I hope your predictions are accurate. But the beasts--”
They froze when they heard the sound. The high-pitched whinnying below decks. The gray foal.
“A moment.” Aftus pressed on the console and the display appeared before them. They all stared as they saw the foal panicking and injure itself.
“The juvenile is not placated?”
“The proper levels of placation are difficult to predict among the juveniles!”
“It panics. The juveniles that are separated from their mothers cannot endure the stress. The cardiac readings are severe; it will kill itself.”
Aftus raised her hand. “Hold your actions. We will lead it back.”
VII.
The gray foal sat on its haunches, giving one last, weak whinny as it prepared to lie down, giving up in despair.
But then the clear wall shifted and fell away. He got to his legs and gave a short, prospective neigh, and though he didn’t hear a response, he did sniff the air and caught a familiar scent.
His mother was nearby. He walked out into the bright corridor, the walls still smooth and cold and hard. And yet, as he followed the scent, his hooves ringing out on the hard floor, he saw the rest of the herd through the clear walls. They were all asleep. How could they sleep through all this? It did not matter to him. He only needed to find his mother.
After a short distance, he saw her. There was no wall, so he galloped over to her. She too was lying on her side, her breathing slow and shallow, but she was still alive. He nuzzled her a few times, but she did not respond. Undeterred, the gray foal laid down next to her, feeling the warmth of her body and taking in her familiar, comforting scent. The clear wall rose again, shutting him in with her, but he no longer cared.
Even if his mother was asleep, at least she was there. He laid his head against her, and fell asleep to the soft rhythm of her heart.
Above them all, watching the gray foal on a monitor, Aftus nodded her head, laying her hand on the monitor. “We have experimented with the donkeys, the yaks, and others, but it is you ponies who are most receptive to the augmentation. The whole of this planet may change because we act. You will change because we act. And yet it will not matter because you will live.”
Below, the gray foal did not even notice as the room began to glow and a strange, warm energy filled the room and seeped into his body. And though he would not remember this day, he would feel the strange sensations in his legs and face and head the next morning and then throughout the years to come.
VIII.
The gray foal had become a stallion. He had grown, he had roamed with the adolescent males, and he now had a herd of his own. He had taken the buckskin mare as his lead mare and she now led the others to the next grazing area as he kept his head up and his ears trained for any signs of predators.
They came to a grove of trees that bore fruit. He had tasted of it before and enjoyed the sweetness and the crunch of this type of fruit in his youth. He and the others began to reach for the low-hanging fruit. A few of them reared up on their hind legs to reach the higher ones.
The gray stallion stared at the tree. He felt something. At different times, he had these odd sensations and somehow he just knew that they had something to do with the plants and the life all around him. For some reason, he felt energized. He looked up at the tempting fruit in the branches and then down at the trunk of the tree. He took a deep breath, nostrils flaring, and turned his backside to the tree. Raising a single leg, he aimed it at the trunk and kicked.
A shockwave went through the trunk and the limbs shivered. A hail of the fruit rained down. The mares and the young foals immediately came over and ate the fresh fruit on the ground. A few of the other adults, including the buckskin mare, all went to the other trees and began to kick at the trunks. And one by one, they too dropped their fruit.
The herd ate well that day.
IX.
The buckskin mare was foaling. The gray stallion stood by, watching and keeping the others at bay. The time passed and soon he saw the buckskin mare licking and nuzzling the newborn foal. It stood, its fur fluffy and ruffled, and let out a short neigh as it supported itself on two legs.
The others began to rear up and some even stomped the ground, snorting in agitation when they saw the newborn. Its color was bright purple. They had never seen such a thing and all of them feared something was wrong with this newborn. Yet it moved, it looked normal otherwise, and it was now only nursing quietly. The buckskin mare nuzzled her new foal and the two of them touched noses, sharing breath and bonding for the first time.
The gray stallion approached. Even now, he remembered what the old lead stallion had done to the lame newborn. A lead stallion protected the herd and it was now his job to eliminate a foal that would impede the herd. This foal, his first foal, was different. But was it defective?
He thought not. Curious and seeing the buckskin mare watching him cautiously, he came to the newborn foal and prodded it with his muzzle. The purple foal gave a little whinny and touched its nose to his. And in that instant, he knew it was all right.
He went to the buckskin mare and rubbed his neck with hers, relaxing as she reciprocated and feeling her breath on the nape of his neck.
Soon they moved on with the newborn foal, a filly, in tow. In the coming months and years, they would see more odd colors and they would encounter other herds with foals that bore odd bumps on their foreheads and some with two bumps on their backs.
And somehow it was all good and with each generation, his herd grew and thrived.
X.
Twilight Sparkle walked up to the exhibit in the Manehattan Hall of Science. She looked up, her mouth dropping open in awe. She almost felt compelled to lower her head reverentially as she took in the sight of the bones in the case before her.
There in the case, his bones reassembled and propped up into a standing position, was the gray stallion. Standing alongside him, also reassembled, was the buckskin mare.
Twilight looked down at the sign before the display case. “Let’s see,” she murmured as she squinted at the tiny print.
The ancient ponies displayed in this case are believed to be from the same herd. They are believed to perhaps be siblings or even mates. Ponies like these roamed across the plains of what is now modern-day Equestria in groups of 10-20 and survived without the use of magic, speech, or the other faculties of the modern pony.
Scientists believe these individuals lived approximately 50,000 years ago, just before the period of prehistory known as the Great Awakening, when ponies began to differentiate into earth ponies, unicorns, and pegasi.
“Wow,” she breathed.
She heard hoofsteps behind her. She turned to see a member of the Royal Guard standing there, clad in armor. He cleared his throat. “Princess Twilight? Her Highness and your other two companions are waiting. It looks like your private tour will begin soon.”
“Ah, sorry!” She followed him and made her way back to the lobby. As she went, she gave one last look over her shoulder, smiling at the two ancient ponies in the case, appreciative and even grateful that they had lived and survived, paving the way for her to stand there that day.
Author's Note
I hope you have enjoyed my third story here on FiMFiction. Thank you for reading.
The group I belong to that called for this prompt, Hazardous Writing Materials, is a nice group where you can casually practice your writing and hang out with some other cool writers on this site. You can check them out here.
As for the prompt, "History," I consider it extremely important, whether it is recent or in the distant past. Knowing where we come from and the precedence set by those who've come before us is both fascinating and vital to our continues success as a society.
