Chapter II: Actions Speak Louder

The Unending Days Of The Curse

Act I: Martyr

Chapter II: Actions Speak Louder

“Guardian, have you ever found yourself in a situation where you think you can't escape? That you can't win?”

Everything begins at one at time. First my hearing; the sound of chattering reverberates in my ears. The dull pain of my leg awakens and it pounds like the beating of a heart. Then, everything begins at once; the hunger, the dehydration, the aching. The memories of what happened last jolts my body and I open my eyes, revealing two orange orbs staring down at me. My heart jumps into my throat as I yell, scurrying away from the pony. I reach for my sword, only for my hand to smack against my bare ass. I just accidentally spanked myself. Now that I look, I notice I'm naked.

I glance around, and take in my surroundings, the realization that I'm back at the house reaching me. I prop myself up on my elbows, my heart rate returning to normal. The mare that scared me is watching me from the side, an amused smile plastered on her face. She is colored like an orange, and her hair is as grey as a dark storm, but has light strands of white, but she appears to be young. The same eyes that nearly gave me a heart attack are a lighter shade of orange. The mark on her backside appears to be a red plus sign, with a leaf behind it.

This is the first time I've been close to a pony, without them robbing me or trying to murder me. Of course, I have had a few clever ones deceive me into trusting them, but not anymore. These days, I stay as far away as possible. Keeping my distance and remaining independent is what has kept me alive. Taking from nature and stealing is how I live, not living in debt. She'll probably ask to work her garden or lick her hooves! I can't have this. It's not the way I live, and it's not the way I want to live.

Time is a difficult subject for me. I feel as though a significant amount of time has passed, but my body has not aged, nor my mind. The way the world has changed, species have evolved, things have changed, but… I don’t know. All I know is I have to keep moving, trust no one, and keep myself intact. Something big is coming, I just don't know when or where. But I don't want to be around when it does it. Knowing me, though, I'll be drawn to it anyway, without really knowing why.

Wandering the world, it has opened my eyes to many things. The beauty of nature, the deep wonders of the Sun and the Moon, but one thing has always stuck out. The true intentions of people. People, er, ponies will wear a face different from their own, shielding themselves. They'll wear it until time is  worthless, and they don't have to be afraid. Whether or not if you're what they're afraid of doesn't matter, but instead of what you intend on doing. You can instill fear on implications.

The mare entered my vision, her mouth in motion, but words of another language leaving it. One of these days, I need to educate and myself on their language; many situations have ended poorly because of a lack of communication. She continued speaking, but I guess my expression made her stop. Another onslaught of words left her mouth, but I shook my head at them. Silence ensued between us until she got up, and left the house. Before I could attempt to leave, she returned with a notebook and quill and ink.

Handing them to me, I held the quill in my right hand before dipping it in the pot of ink. Tapping it on the rim so it doesn't drop ink on the floor, I began writing a relatively easy sentence, just to test if she can understand my written language. The quill danced around the paper, swirling and twisting around as I wrote, words forming on the piece of paper. Ink imprinted on the paper and leaked somewhat through to the other page. The grey maned mare watched quietly as I wrote. I finished it up with a question mark before turning it around and showing the pony.

She leaned in to read it, but she looked confused before shaking her head. Sighing, I dropped my head onto to the notebook, ink staining my hair as I closed my eyes. If only I could speak to these blasted creatures, I wouldn't have to resort to being alone and stealing! There truly is no way to talk with these bloody horses. Lifting my eyelids, I looked up and my eyes darted around the room, studying the various objects in it, seeing them as pictures in a frame. Wait, that gives me an idea.

Placing the tip of the quill on the paper once more, I began drawing the items that were scattered around the house, occasionally glancing up to check on them to have a close look alike. The black liquid slid around the page as my hand moved in different directions. Soon, the table, the bed, the walls, the windows, the door, and even the pony were all inside the paper, staring at me. Satisfied with the drawing, I showed the mare. She smiled and nodded her head.

Okay, so I have a way of talking with people, albeit it being in the worst possible way considering I'm not a very good artist. Flipping the page over to the next, I began drawing a replica of my makeshift brown bag I made awhile back, taking my time to add detail so she understands it as much as possible. I don't want the possibility of her handing me a pear instead. While it would feed me for a short time, it would not be very good at carrying things. Unless there's some kind of thing carrying pear I don't know about… Why am I thinking about this?

Twirling my hands around, I show her the attempt at drawing my bag, all though it seems that it worked. She nodded with a slight smile, walking off to one of the corners of the room, rummaging around for it until she found it. Returning with it, I gently took it from her hooves, gazing into her eyes. Once it was in my grasp, I began searching through it, keeping an eye out for my flask. My throat was dry as a desert, and for the second time in a while, I yearn for some delicious water. When it doesn't show up, I draw the item in mind and show the mare. She shook her head no.

Where'd it go? I distinctly remember filling it with water from the river, and then placing it back into the bag. What kind of complete crisis could have occurred that made my flask just vanish? It have a change of heart and walk off, wanting to start a new life, and settle down? The only reasonable explanation is that those two stallions that chased me stole it from me before dragging me back here. But, that makes no sense, why would they injure me but then heal me? Glancing at the bag, I noticed a medium sized rip on the side, near the bottom. My tongue found itself into the inside of my cheek.

I found myself falling to the action of drawing as I drew various shapes and lines, ink forming a picture, me and my quill at the helm. I narrowed my eyes as I scribbled and scrawled across the blank yellow paper, my mind placing itself into the page. I forget the full saying, or maybe the correct one, but a single picture means a thousand words. It's something along those lines, or maybe I don't even what I'm bloody talking about. Most likely the latter, honestly.

When I gazed down again, two gruff looking stallions sat on the page, their expressions showing of wrath and anger. In their grasps, are two fire chopping axes, their long handles wrapped in their hoof. Blood coats one of their blades, expressing the violence and brutality of what happened to land me in here. Pursing my lips, I contemplated showing the mare this. I mean, what if it offends her and she tries to kick me out? Sighing, I handed her the notebook, anticipating her response.

Her face contorted from curiosity to sorrow, her eyes flickering to my injured leg before back to me. She lifted her hoof and pointed outside, to the garden that stood outside. Leaning over, I noticed the same two stallions that maimed me working on the crops, shoveling and pulling food out. I placed my back against the wall, my emotions out of whack. There they are, the two responsible for robbing me of my one and only form of traveling, not to mention causing me an unimaginable amount of pain. Bloody hell, I can’t catch a break.

I never had this many problems in the past, at least, none that I remember. A few scuffs here and there, leaving with a couple scratches and my dignity intact, but I can just throw that out of the window now. It seems like trouble just revolves around me, like a moth to a flame, it's quite ridiculous. What's odd is that I never had any problems regarding my species, just the fact that I'm alive and well. No, being a six foot hairless ape creature is perfectly, but it's a crisis if I am breathing! For goodness sake.

Suddenly, my stomach rumbles loudly and I look down at it. The pony giggles before standing up and leaving the house, the door swinging shut behind her. That's right, I never had the pleasure of placing food in my mouth and chewing it and swallowing it, because I instead had the pleasure of having an axe lodge itself into my shin and swallow blood! But, no it's perfectly fine. It's not if I need to eat to live or anything, no! Completely and utterly preposterous.

In the past, I just grabbed whatever fruits and plants I could carry as I went along, or if needed, stole them from ponies or houses. I haven't had the proper equipment or time to cook meat, or get any, for that matter. And as much as I hate the little bloody horses, I'll never resort to eating them. They are sentient beings, even if they are dirty little pricks that enjoy thievery and assault. No one deserves to be eaten, alive or dead. Of course, it's debatable depending on the person.

After a few seconds of silence and other things of the same category, the pony entered the house once again, a few carrots in her hoof. Approaching me, she offered me the three orange, and delicious looking carrots. Nodding my head, I took them from her before I began devouring the first one, loud crunching sounds filling the room as I munched on the juicy vegetable. Soon after, the other two phallic objects joined the first one inside of me. I sighed before closing my eyes.

I'm letting this bother me too much, I think. It's because I never stay still for too long, I always have to move, always have to keep my feet in motion, even if they are in poor condition. Wandering is all I've been doing for the longest time, I just keep walking. Because of this, I never met any friendly ponies, even if I think they don't exist, never made any connections. For goodness’ sake, I haven't even spoken a word in forever! But I continue to indulge in this knobbish behaviour and refuse to rest.

But, if I didn't, I wouldn't have been exposed to what I've seen. All the breathtaking landscapes, the true beauty of nature and its many amazing animals, not to mention I wouldn't be in top top shape from all this walking, so there's that. Granted, I wouldn't be robbed and have many attempts on my life, but that’s the just way it is now, I have to accept until someone steps up to save us or unite us. Of course, the way I feel as a storm brews closer to me continues to be that I'm connected to it. It follows me everywhere I go, uncannily.

The time and date has also lost me. I'm too busy running away and trying to stay alive that I forgot to check the calendar! It's not like I can just go up to somebody and go ‘Well, hello there, can you stop trying to kill me long enough for me to ask you the date? Wait, what's that? I might as well be talking to myself because no one knows my language? Well, excuse me!’. Whatever language they speak is a language I want to speak, because maybe it would prevent some unwanted encounters in the future.

As I lay on the cot, I try to reflect on my past, on what I've done, where I've been, who I was, only for the sick realization that I'm forgetting something everyday hits me like a wall. If only… No, that's impossible, not to mention suicidal. I feel sleep’s sweet and warm hug embrace me as I drift away into an eternal land breathing of dreams and nightmares, as well as my thoughts and emotions...

* * *

The universal sound of crickets chirping filling my ears comes first, reminding me of late, warm summer nights. Raising my eyelids, I'm awarded with the sight of not orange orbs, but instead a single one of white, beaming down on me from the black, star filled sky. I always appreciated the Sun and its everlasting warmth, but the Moon has a deep light that I adore. Blinking, I glance over to the rest of the room, the bright side of the Moon lighting the room for me.

The Orange mare sleeps silently on a blanket on the floor, cuddled up with herself. As much as they are pains in the ass, the cheeky bastards are cute… Well, I thought that. Oh, well. Sitting up, I swing my left leg over, but struggle with my injured leg. I grit my teeth as I pick it up with my arms, heaving it over the edge. I sit and swing my legs as I think about what I want to do, or at least, what I wish to do. Can't do much with a mangled leg, thanks for that, you pricks!

This is the best possible time to leave. No one is around, no one is awake, and I can even grab a few things; and leave with a head start this time. But, of course, traveling with leg would be an absolute pain in the arse, and wouldn't do me any good in the healing sense. I can't stay here, though. How long before they ask me to work for them, or even try to kill me? It's too much of a risk, but it's damned if you do, damned if you don't right now. I'm screwed either way, I just need to figure out which one nails me harder.

Let's see… Walking would be difficult, I would most likely need a stick as a substitute to a cane to aid me in this most simplest of tasks, one that comes to you naturally, one that has been made hard for me because some prick thought it would be funny to chuck an axe and see what would happen! I seriously hope you contract the worst kind of cancer and rot! I then noticed that my hands are balled up and my breathing is heavy… Dialing it down a bit would help.

I placed a hand on my chest and inhaled, before extending it as I let the breath out… Much better. Okay, now for the second option, which is just as bad. Staying here would I mean I can heal properly, but most likely at the cost of all my property, my freedom, and my life. Of course, I could be overreacting, but who doesn't these days? I mean, the mare seems decent, but the two stallions? I may have to axe them a question or two when they wake up. If I'm even here.

Glancing down at the sleeping pony, I make my final decision. Pushing myself up off the cot, my hands slip and I land on my back, my head smacking against the hard floor. I curse quietly to myself before looking over to the pony. She's still asleep… Good. Making my way to my feet, I put my pressure on my left leg, and I try to minimize the amount on my messed up leg to a bare minimum. I slide my way to the table where my sack lies.

Taking a moment to assure I won't slip or fall, I begin to rummage through the contents of the bag, checking to see if everything is in there… But then I remembered the rip on the side, and realized that some things could have fell out. Bollocks. It's going to have to do for now. Picking up the bag, I along it over my shoulder, tying the strap around me as I tip-toe around the small pony. Once I was sure that I was safe, I creaked the door open and slipped outside into the cool night.

Using the house as a support, I slowly inched my way around the side of the house, to the one facing the tall, snowy mountains. As I was stumbling, my foot bumped into something cold and metal. Shooting a glance down, I signed in relief. A weapon! I bent down to retrieve the steel wood chopping axe, gripping the wooden handle in my palm. I flipped it around and stopped. It was stained with crimson colored liquid all across the side of blood, trailing down to the handle; this is my own blood. Closing my eyes for a moment, I re-open them and continue on.

When I finally lost the support of the walls of the house, I stumbled and fell as I struggled to walk under the dark blue sky, twinkling stars watching me, but not aiding. Fatigue wore me down, as well as hunger and dehydration, but I didn't stop. I could not. It was not in my nature. For if I stayed, even if I did know, the storm would have passed and those ponies would have not awakened to the dawn of day. That's why I must go.

My chest heaves as I fall down onto my hands and knees, grunting as I felt the hard rocks under my skin dig into it, an unusual and unpleasant feeling for sure. I unwrap the straps of my sack and throw it deeper into the hollow cave, my axe along with it. I crawl until I collapse, until my eyes gaze up at the ceiling of the cave. My body has given up on me, it seems. Attempting to get up, I fall once more. No, it's impossible. I need to rest.

“What, are you going to give up now? Get up, you have thousands of miles to go.”

Impeding my vision was a pony that was as black as a bug, and, at least, as tall as me. Her green, cat-like pupils stared down into my eyes, as if she was reading my mind. A light green colored mane swept over her the top of her eyes and fell over her head as she stood above me. And on her muzzle was a smirk, her fangs protruding in front of her other teeth. She raised her hoof, and inspected it, before grinning at me through the one hole in her forearm.

“Peek-a-boo!”