Cold

by Shrink Laureate

Rating: mature
Tags: Sad, Original Character, Death, Human, Twilight Sparkle, Gore, Anon, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 4432

A pony is dead. A man must find out why.

A pony is dead. A man must find out why.

Content warning: Death, medical details of pony anatomy.
Edited/proofread by BaeroRemedy and Solstice Shimmer

Published 2016-01-13 23:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2016-01-13 23:40:01 UTC

Cold

The man picks up a clean metal spatula.

One by one he opens the pony’s eyes, looks into them with a small flashlight. The iris of each is amber with warm orange flecks. There are faint veins visible in the sclera. The cornea is clean; the retina reflects the light he shines like an old bronze mirror. No evident issues with eyesight. He closes them again.

Next he opens its mouth, uses the spatula to pull the tongue out of the way and checks for anything obstructing the windpipe. Nothing. He sniffs, tentatively. Dandelions. Parsnips. Almond oil. The pony’s last meal.

The pony’s left ear is bent out of shape, and has dry soil adhering to it. He takes a sample. He uses the flashlight to look into each ear. No obstructions or visible damage.

He resists the temptation to pat the pony’s neck, to comfort it, to tell it everything would be okay. The pony would not feel it.

Six months ago—

The snow was falling gently outside, settling in an even layer over town. It was beautiful to watch from the warm comfort of a living room. Perfect work by the weather ponies.

“Hey, Twilight. Can I... ask you something a bit weird?”

Twilight Sparkle looked up from the book she was reading, the warm firelight reflected in her big eyes. “I expect you can. After some of the conversations we’ve had since you arrived, I’d almost be disappointed if you didn’t,” she giggled.

“Weirder than usual.”

Twilight nodded cheerfully. “The princess asked me to tell you anything.”

“Okay. Well... the thing is...” He looked away.

“Go on,” she prompted.

“Does Ponyville have any... prostitutes?”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed and some of the fun left her voice. “Seriously? Four months in this world and you’re hungry for pony now? What sort of monster have I invited into my home?”

“Not like that! It’s just...”

“Just what? Spit it out before I decide to cool your ardour in the snow, lover boy.”

He cleared his throat. “Look, you know I’m a doctor, right?”

“Junior doctor,” she insisted.

“Well, yes. It takes years and years to become a real doctor. You’ve got to intern at a hospital first, and even when it's all done I’ll still spend the rest of my life catching up.”

“Get to the point,” she said.

“So I know my way around the human body. I know where all the different arteries and veins are, how the digestive system works, and the proper names of way too many bones. I know how to spot if somebody’s been drinking too much or if they have some disease or if they’re pregnant.”

She neatly put a bookmark into place and shut the book she'd been reading. “Yeeees.”

“But ponies are a different species. Completely different shape, diet, everything.”

“I’m still waiting for the punchline.”

“So everything I spent years learning is old hat now,” he explained. “It just doesn’t apply here. I see ponies every day, but I don’t know how they work. To get some of that back I’d like to familiarise myself with the pony form. Make sure things are where I think they are. Before I make a fool of myself.”

“Let me get this straight.” She pointed a hoof at him. “You want to get hooves on with a mare so you can check your biology?”

“Medicine is my life, Twilight, I've known that since I was little. If humans had cutie marks, that's what mine would be.”

Twilight stared hard at the man for a few more seconds before relaxing. “I guess I can see what you mean. Since coming here you feel like you’re suddenly at a disadvantage compared to everypony else. You’ve gone from knowing everything to knowing nothing.”

The words stung a little, but he was relieved she understand. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“And you don’t want to ask me or one of my friends because...”

“Because it could easily be misunderstood,” he finished. “Even if they said yes, it would still be really awkward and weird.”

“Right, I guess it would.” She thought a moment. “Well, to answer your question: no, there aren’t any prostitutes in Ponyville that I’m aware of. You’d need to go to someplace big like Canterlot for that. But you may be able to find somepony willing to help you out - if you ask them very nicely. Hmmmm... I can think of one or two. Lyra seems to find your species fascinating.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” He felt about for the right word. “She can be... enthusiastic.”

“But she’s in a relationship right now so it might be a mistake to suggest anything so intimate. Or maybe Cloudkicker, I hear she’ll rut anything – of course, if anypony asks I didn’t say that!”

“Of course.” He shared a smirk with her.

“I suppose I could ask around, discreetly. See if something like that could be arranged.”

“Thank you,” he said. “Again. You’ve been more than helpful.”

She looked thoughtful. “I have answered all your questions as best I can, right? About pony life?”

“You have. And I’m grateful for everything you’ve taught me about this world. There’s just some things you can’t learn in abstract.”

“And whatever you learn about mares on this escapade is going into that little diary of yours like everything else, right? Then I guess I have just one condition.”

Nervously he asked, “What’s that?”

“When you’ve done writing about how mares are different from women, write me something about how women are different from mares. You’re not the only one who gets to be curious about a whole new species.”

“Oh. I guess I could do that. You wouldn’t spread it around though, would you? You'd keep it just between us?”

“Just between us,” she affirmed.

“Right.”

“And the princesses, of course.” She smiled. “And the royal archivist. And a few dozen select scholars at the school for gifted unicorns. And anypony else who comes to my lecture. Which would of course be open to the public, that's only fair. I may have to deliver it several times across the country to make sure everypony has a chance to hear it.”

He sighed. That was to be expected.

“Oh, and I have one other question,” she said. “Just between us.”

“Go on.”

She grinned mischievously as she leant in. “Which of my friends would you have asked?”

Front teeth are in good condition, with evidence of having been treated. He pulls the pony’s cheek back to look at the cheek teeth. A little decay, and a chipped tooth on the left side, lower left six. He uses the spatula to probe the gap between the front and cheek teeth. Canines have been removed, blind wolf teeth still present.

Despite being broadly vegetarian, ponies are often born with canines alongside their the front teeth, or sharp ‘wolf teeth’ ahead of the cheek teeth. Most ponies opt to have these removed, unless they wish to look dangerous. Sometimes they don’t emerge and a pair of hard lumps indicate ‘blind’ wolf teeth that never erupted from the gum. Blind wolf teeth can be painful; there may be record of recent dental appointments.

The pony’s nose is cold, but not wet. The muzzle is much smaller than a horse, or a pony from Earth. Underneath the coloured hair the pony’s skin is pale and colourless, but where the hair peters out around the eyes, nose, mouth and ears, the skin adopts the same light violet shade as the hair.

Examination reveals a bruise on the left side of the muzzle, initially concealed by hair. The shape indicates that it was delivered by an uneven blow with a hoof; depth, intensity and angle suggest a rear hoof. The emergence of a visible yellow tint to the bruise indicates that the impact was delivered more than 18 hours, and possibly up to a week prior to death. It appears the hoof slipped during impact, so a precise hoof-print will be impossible. No foreign hair or other residue found at point of impact that would suggest the assailant’s identity.

Four months ago—

“Four steps left, four steps right. Turn around and swap places with your partner.”

The barn full of ponies did their best to follow his instructions at high speed. Many of them got confused and ended up in the wrong places, bumping into each other and messing up the pattern, but that was part of the fun. The man stood on the little stage in front of the musicians, calling the moves for everypony to follow.

“Okay, the next dance is for groups of four or more couples, or you can just make one big line of couples if you like. Pay attention though, because it can get pretty hectic.”

As he cheerfully called out the steps, he watched the ponies arrayed on the dance floor, and in some cases above it. Practically the whole town was down there. Rainbow Dash was partnered with Derpy this time, in a group of pegasi all doing the dances in mid air, but she tended to do her moves too fast. Fluttershy was dancing with Big Mac again - was something going on there, or were they just taking refuge in each other's shyness? She was clearly nervous when the dance required she switch to another partner, and relieved when she returned to him. Lyra was dancing with Bon Bon, so it looked like they were back together again. Cloud Kicker appeared to have a whole fan club gathered round her. Pinkie Pie somehow managed to be in three separate groups at once. Applejack was right at home, though she kept half an eye on her brother and another on the bar. There was a group of little colts and fillies on one side of the room, who were stumbling through the steps at least as well as the adults were.

At the end of this dance he called for a break, thanked the band, and stepped off stage as ponies dispersed among applause and chatter.

Applejack pulled him over to the bar. “Get over here, long feller. You did your part with winter wrap up, and you’re the only one of us not dancing.”

“That’s because I’m a different shape from everypony here,” he replied. “It just wouldn’t work.”

She pushed him to a bar seat between herself and Twilight. Her brother had hurried over and was running the bar. “Maybe not, but you can at least join us in a drink. Here, try one of these.” She slid a suspiciously small glass of warm-coloured liquid over to him. He gamely tried a sip, but spluttered as he tasted it.

“Wha—” — cough, swallow, breathe — “What is this?”

Twilight answered, “A little known fact about alicon physiology is that our gestalt heritage includes an Earth pony’s solid constitution, a trait that’s as exaggerated as others.” She fluffed one extra-large wing to illustrate the point. “Following my promotion to Princess, I discovered that my tolerances had changed. So I asked Applejack to try making a fortified version.”

He blinked. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“She means she's got the strength of three ponies now, so it takes more than your typical liquor to lay her low,” Applejack clarified with a chuckle. “I made this here brew at Twilight’s suggestion, based on an old recipe she got from Celestia herself.”

“From Luna's kitchen staff, to be precise,” pointed out Twilight.

“I’m surprised you went to that much effort for the sake of a drink,” he said. “Er, not that I saying you’re—”

The two mares laughed at his flusterment. “I’m not ashamed to say I need a drink on occasion. When you suddenly have the duties of a whole country dropped on your shoulders, you have to be able to unwind.” She turned to look at the dance floor behind them with a smile. “This is good.”

Applejack held up the unlabelled bottle. “So I’m thinking of marketing it as ‘Sweet Apple Acres Royal Cider’. By appointment to Her Royal Highness the Princess of Friendship. Got a nice ring to it, right?” Twilight blushed at the full title and turned away.

“It certainly packs a punch. Not unpleasant though.” He dared another sip. “Dare I ask what’s in it?”

“Well, there’s apples—”

A polite “ahem” from behind them. The man turned around to find a pegasus daintily offering him her hoof.

“Heather Dew?”

“If you’re not too drunk yet, perhaps you could grant me a dance?”

A slow waltz was starting. The man smiled and accepted her hoof. “Gladly. I do like the slow ones.” They stepped away from the bar, and he noticed that Twilight had a little grin on her face.

As they stepped onto the floor, Heather Dew flapped her wings to put her face on a level with his. He guided her hoof with his left hand and gently rested his right hand on her withers in a proper ballroom hold. Ponies watched and stepped out of their way as the pair spun and swayed slowly, stars of the dance floor.

The pony’s neck has an unnatural bend to it, quite low near its withers. The man feels the vertebrae one by one. Fracture on the C5 vertebra, and complete dislocation of C5/6 consistent with a sudden impact. Lack of developed bruising means the injury happened at or after the time of death. If an X-ray were taken, it would likely show severe spinal damage as a probable cause of death.

The mane is well kept. He uses the tweezers to pull out a few hairs. Examination of the root does not show the discolouration that could indicate declining health or recent toxicity.

Moving back from the withers he examines the pony’s wings, carefully spreading them out to full length. Muscle tone indicates the wings were in regular use. Feathers on both wings are intact and have been well cared for. Right wing shows no injuries, but left wing has a fracture to the radius. The injury wouldn’t have been obvious to others, but it would have been painful to move and certainly prevented flight.

Three months ago—

In the centre of the darkened underground room was a pole, and spinning around it in an impressive display of aerial agility was Heather Dew. She circled, hanging on with just the tip of one wing on the pole, pushed against it and flipped upside down to spin with the other wing before doing seven flips with just the lightest of touches. Somehow she was able to do things on that pole that those short wings and those stumpy little hooves should not be capable of.

The man watched, entranced. It wasn’t quite what he’d expected when she'd invited him out tonight.

At least a dozen other stallions were watching too, and he noticed a couple of mares watching as well. In fact, they appeared to be a couple. He'd been to strip joints before - even been thrown out of one as a medical student - but the atmosphere here was different. It was more respectful, somehow, like the audience were actually paying attention to the skill of the performance. Strangely, it didn't seem to be about money either. Instead it was a chance to show off and be appreciated.

He walked her home afterwards. Even though winter was officially wrapped up now, the spring night air still had a little chill to it.

She glances at his trousers, to which a scalpel symbol has been stitched. “Tell me,” she waved a hoof at him, “is it true you don't have a cutie mark under there?”

“Yes, it's true. I'm a completely blank flank.” He tapped his flank. “I was thinking of getting it tattooed though.”

“Tattoo? As in drawn on with lots of needles?” she asked. Ponies generally didn't see the point of tattoos. “Doesn't that hurt?”

“Sure it does. But you put up with it for something you care about.”

“You've had one of those before?” she asked.

"No," he admitted, cowed slightly. “This would be my first. Assuming I can find someone to do it, that is. I heard minotaurs have tattoos sometimes, right?”

She edged closer and gently nudged his side with a hoof. “That's a pretty long way to go. The minotaurs all live miles away. You'd go that far to fit in with us little ponies?”

“Ponyville is my home now,” he said, gesturing broadly to the streets and houses they passed. Despite being dark and quiet, the place still felt safe. “I'm buying a house and everything. Still, there may be more to this town than I thought. I had no idea that place existed.”

“Really, Twilight never mentioned it? I suppose it’s not really her scene.”

“I don’t think she knows about it.” He frowned. “She told me there wasn’t anything like it in this town, that you’d have to go all the way to Canterlot to find anything so... risqué.”

She walked a little closer to him. “Ha! For somepony so clever, she can be remarkably dumb. She really does think this is just a cozy little village, doesn’t she?”

“Hey, she’s been incredibly helpful. If you start knocking her then I'll be honour-bound to defend her.” He waggled a finger. “But yeah, she can be naïve. And I'm actually grateful for that, you know; if she weren't I might not have had anywhere to live this winter. Given how easy going she is with everypony, it's easy to forget that she's a princess.”

“She was elite long before she became a princess,” Heather Dew pointed out. “It was obvious as soon as she walked into town, here comes a rich filly. Did you hear she had Princess Cadence as a foalsitter?”

“I did, though it's a little strange to think of. Although...” He coughed. “I wouldn’t quite have expected what I saw tonight of you either.”

She grinned and leant in closer. “And why is that, exactly?”

He considered shifting to a polite distance but opted to let her decide. “Just that you usually project a more refined image than the one I saw tonight. You're surprising open.” He blushed. “And, uh, flexible.”

“A mare has to have a few secrets, you know. Nopony's quite as simple as they appear at first glance.”

“Speaking of mystery, I've been meaning to ask you. Heather Dew's an unusual name for a pegasus, isn't it?”

“That's no mystery, really. My parents are both earth ponies,” she said matter-of-factly. “My big sister too. It's a fairly normal earth pony name.”

“Does that happen often? Foals born a different race from their parents?”

“It does around here, Ponyville's a lot more mixed than most places. It may have been an earth pony town originally, but most ponies here have a little bit of everything somewhere in their family tree. I had a pegasus great-grandfather apparently, and I guess it somehow came out in the wash.”

“I'd love to figure out how the genetics of that works,” he pondered.

“Genetics? What's that?” They reached her door. “Are you coming in? I have nice hot tea and some lovely chocolates,” she promised.

He shifted in place. “Oh, er, I didn’t expect...”

She laughed. “It’s okay, Twilight mentioned your little request to me. She said you'd like to learn something about pony anatomy, preferably ‘hands’ on. And that's fine. Don't worry, it doesn’t have to turn into anything more serious than that.”

The man was relieved. “Right. In that case, thank you. I know it’s an odd thing to ask, but I’d really appreciate it.”

She winked as she pressed the door closed with a back hoof behind him. “Unless you want it to be more serious, of course.”

Left fore hoof is ruptured on the left side, indicating an uneven impact. Left fore leg is broken in five places: the long pastern, twice in the cannon bone, the splint bone, and one carpal bone. Hairline fracture to the left scapula. Right fore leg broken in two places: coffin bone and cannon bone. Humeral joint of right shoulder dislocated. Left hind leg has a minor fracture to the cannon bone. Right hind leg not visibly broken but grazed on inside edge. He scrapes the soil from under each hoof into a dish. All four hooves contain dried river sediment. The right hind hoof contains leaf matter of the type that grows on the banks of the river near the dam.

Lifting the fore leg out the way, the man uses the scalpel to make a long straight incision down the pony’s barrel. He peels back the skin to reveal the rib cage and abdominal cavity. Six ribs broken on left side, concentrated at the abdominal end, along with fractures of varying severity to eleven more. Only minor fractures on the right side and to the sternum.

Two of the ribs punctured the lungs, causing internal bleeding. Had the pony not died of other wounds first, this would likely have proven fatal unless treated with immediate surgery.

Stomach contents include chewed product of a dandelion sandwich, roquette salad and parsnip fries; also fruit juice and a small quantity of mint ice cream. Some of the matter is still in the non-glandular section of the stomach, indicating that time of death was not long after the last meal. Caecum and intestines contain product of hay, oats and berries, most likely the previous meal.

Examination of the uterus indicates at least one pregnancy in the past. It isn't possible to tell whether it came to term, or whether the foal survived.

Five hours ago—

The man was on his way to get groceries. It was late summer now, a beautiful day, and ponies were greeting each other pleasantly in the street.

He’d been worried, when he moved out of the library into his own house, that he’d get lonely. He’d shared a dorm at medical school, then a flat with two other junior doctors. He’d never had a whole building to himself before. But the Ponyville residents were so cheerful and friendly that it wasn’t the problem he’d imagined. Half the time he had guests round, or was out himself - Pinkie Pie made sure there was a steady supply of parties in town. And the quiet nights he had left to himself were a welcome break.

He passed by the cafe, and waved at Heather Dew who was sitting at a table talking to a foal. Strange, he’d never seen her with children before. She didn’t seem the type. She must have seen him, but didn’t react at all. Oh well. Back home he might have felt differently, but Ponyville was such a safe town that seeing an adult talking to a foal was perfectly fine.

The bags weren’t heavy so he took the long way back, around the east side of town, taking in the fields, the forests, the mountains. There was no doubt the scenery was an improvement on his old home.

He was crossing a bridge when he heard shouting from upstream. Alarmed, frantic shouting. He dropped his bag and ran, along with several other ponies. They found a small crowd gathering at the base of the Ponyville dam. It was dry this summer and the dam water was being rationed, reducing the stream to a trickle; they could walk right onto the cracked riverbed. As he stepped closer he saw that the foal he’d seen in the cafe earlier was crying, being held close by a stallion he didn’t recognise.

At the far side of the crowd, right under the dam, was Heather Dew. She was laying on the ground, not moving.

“I’m a doctor, let me through. Out of the way, make room.” He pushed past the crowd. Knelt down. Felt for a pulse. Felt for breathing. Found neither. “What happened?”

“I saw her fall from the dam,” a stallion replied. “Why didn’t she fly?”

Her neck was twisted. Her eyes were open. He wasn’t an idiot, but he was a doctor. Even if the outcome was clear before he started, he still had to make every effort he could.

Not long after though, he stopped. There was no point.

“Somepony go find Twilight.”

“I’m here,” she called shakily. She stepped up, a shocked look on her face. She was trembling.

“Can you... I’m sorry. Can you help me take her to the hospital?”

“Right. Of course. Is she... will she...?”

He shook his head. He leant down to closed her eyes, then gently picked her up.

He steps out of the room, and closes the door.

Twilight is waiting for him outside. He can see she’s been crying. He gives her the short report and takes a file of papers from Nurse Redheart. “You said she came in earlier this week?”

“That’s right. There was an accident at work. She flew through a cloud at the same time as another weather pony. Fairly minor at the time: he got a bruise to the flank, she got a hoof to the face and an injured wing.”

“That lines up.” He holds up an X-Ray. “Was the wing immediately painful?”

“No, she flew down here on her own,” replies the nurse. “Apparently it didn’t even start hurting until after she arrived.”

“It probably wouldn't. You told her not to use it?”

“Yes.” The nurse flips a page and taps an entry on her roster. “We booked her an appointment for two weeks later.”

“Do you have her dental records as well?”

“We've asked to have them sent over.”

He looks through the rest of the file. “Tell me, did you hear of her ever having a foal? I don't see anything about it.”

“No, I didn’t, and there’s nothing about one on our records. If she ever gave birth it wasn’t here, but many mares prefer a home birth or to make other arrangements. I can send a request to Cloudsdale, to see if they have anything.” She glances at the door. “You think she...”

“It's possible. Where's the filly now?”

The nurse nodded her head to indicate the other side of the building. “In a private room, with her father and... mother. The doctor’s looked her over, she’s wasn’t hurt at all.”

“Good.”

He turns to Twilight, who’s finished reading the report and is sitting quietly. “I could talk to them. You don’t have to.”

She shakes her head, slowly standing up. “No. I have to do this for them. They need their princess.”