My hoof clacks against this hard, bulbous rock, though to monitor such actions is a luxury not worth my long campaign. My right hoof lays against soft soil, drinking in moist comfort. Sticky drizzling liquid runs down my boiling flanks, staining my fur a darkish brown, my mark of a magnifying glass shining against my monarch's baking sun.
An ant crawls along across my path, its tiny limbs driving against this rock's sparkling affinity.
Apart from my own pony, this ant is all that has such vitality to go on.
For a short instant, it stops and looks up to my sopping body, its own horrifying mug looking to my own as if in curiosity.
What can it do? To it, I am but a thing to climb, a mountain with no thought or spark of individuality. It thinks of its own form as a cusp of living, all that is worth to go on.
A hush of frigid air blows upon my soaking fur, and I flinch in shock, my vision clouding.
My companion simply stands still, taking my monarch's gust of wind as if it was nothing but a soft flash of bliss for it to savor.
Wait...
I swing my cranium to and fro in confusion. My companion? Why should I call an ant such a thing?
How silly.
An ant is nothing but a churning apparatus. It has no thought nor capability to carry out any sort of abstract thinking. Its blood is nothing but oil, oil that runs it a-walking on and on.
As I stand upon this rock, I watch as how my 'companion' squirms to my hoof that's grazing upon it. For a short wink, it simply looks at my foot with such scrutiny that I cannot stop from blushing in mortification. Did I disgust it? Did I ruin its normal plan for such a day as this?
No, for my 'companion' is naught but an ant.
And ants cannot go through such horrid irritation. For if my own small hoof is no good, by that logic this rock would act as a colossal insult.
What a fool I am! I turn about and pay no mind to my 'companion'. A good drink will lift such stupid thoughts from my brain!
With happy thoughts buzzing through my mind, I hoist my body up onto this hard slab of craggy rock. Its rough flooring pains my poor limbs, aching but mirthful as I vow our incoming torpidity.
I sit down, my bottom crying out from pain at this rock's sultry touch. I don't mind it any, for it is a fair transaction to sit and obtain such a comforting favor as I am but a lowly patron. Pain is but a cost for my rocky chair.
Out of curiosity, I look back at my cohort.
It has not quit my company, and for a flash I find comfort in that such a thing would find my foolish actions as a good form of satisfaction.
An ant finding joy in pain? How sadistic. I find a laugh bubbling from my plush lips, choking and gritty from my lack of food and drink.
I am so thirsty.
I want a drink.
Badly.
I look at my monarch's sky, compassing all across my clammy form. My stomach growls, and I blanch from such humiliating voracity.
I look to my companion, my ant.
It is looking at my form, its waving curls bobbing at my sad, sad sight.
I think it thinks that I am pitiful.
...
Am I?
I am sick and faint of body.
As I think of this, my companion draws away from my hoof.
It's mocking.
"Why not go away?" I ask, my words billowing harshly from my mouth.
I wait for its justification, though it says nothing.
I frown. "Why not go back to your hill, ant?"
Nothing.
I think it's sad, for its bouncing curls soon grow lax, as if it is hurt in mind.
"I'm sorry," I murmur.
I lift a hoof, a sopping hoof that's slick and sticky to its touch. I hold it to my ant, my poor ant.
It springs back into motion at my actions and runs to and fro. I shush it with a grin and bring my hoof towards it again.
Slowly...
I try to touch it, though my aim is far off. I go on as if I am a drunkard, waving my arm about as I finally bring it down upon my ant's crawling form.
"Got you!" I laugh happily, gasping for air.
I casually lift my hoof so that it may run wild again. Would it catch onto my spunky mood? What fun play!
In an unusual bout of joy, I do not at first grasp that my companion lays unmoving.
"Ant?" I look down at it, my mind all a whir as I look upon its writhing body. Its limbs go about in waving, lunging bouts outwards in agony and pain. "You okay?"
My only companion in this land only gasps, as if crying out for my aid.
I panic.
"H-Hold on!"
Why am I sad?
It is an ant.
Nothing but a simplistic bit of animating cogs and trimmings.
But I cannot stop my frown from coming.
It cannot think, but how do I know?
My horn glows a soft burgundy as I lift my only companion's form to my hoof.
I hold it... him... lovingly.
I try to sing, but a bit of dust strays down my throat as I try. I cough, and drops of my saliva rain down upon my ant's body. It's not moving now, but I try.
Nothing.
My monarch's sun is going down, bathing my hot body in a cool crimson. For a short duration, I don't want a drink.
I'm still thirsty though. My stomach growls, and I cry out. I know by now that such an action will not assist my poor form, but I am crying. It isn't fair.
My Mom wants to look at my mark, wants to know what it is.
Now my Mom will not know, nor will my Dad.
I look back at my ant, and in a fit of sobbing I sit it onto what is also now my rock. It's grown cool now.
I lay down, with my hoof out to touch my ant, my only companion. A sick churning in my gut starts to grow, and my world is going hazy. Colors distort and sway about as my jaw stupidly hangs ajar.
So this is how it is? To go from this world into annihilation with an ant in my hoof?
That's alright.
I try to grin as it all turns to black.
