The Taming of the Moon

My mind was quiet but the mare who towered above me was not. She nickered and grunted at me constantly as she licked my wet fur clean and nudged under my stomach. But I was in no mood to move, not yet; I had to wrap my head around what was going on first.

I was a foal, but I wasn't the same as I had been in my youth; my mane, though not flowing with magic, was still its normal regal style as opposed to the light blue mane that was more befitting of a standard mare. Bizarrely I still sported my crescent moon cutie mark and my black, cloudlike flank markings as well.

My body was not as powerful or strong as it had been before, though. Even as I lay still I could feel the searing ache; it wasn't helped by the peasant mare, whose nudges had become much more forceful.

She may have been an imbecile to not be capable of speech, but that did not excuse her lack of basic knowledge. In a kingdom where royalty could be easily discerned by the presence of both wings and a horn, my identity should have been obvious, even if she could not recognise me immediately—many of my subjects had surely never seen a painting of me, even if I had always tried to visit villages. But either way, my moon cutie mark should surely have been a sure giveaway.

Well, there was only going to be one way to get her off. With a sigh, I threw my head and struck her with my horn; she stumbled backwards a little and gave me enough time to gather my strength.

My legs were heavy but I wasn't in the right mindset to be nuzzled to death—not by some weird peasant mare, for sure. And so I dragged my hooves forwards and pressed them firmly against the dirt. With a grumble I began to push myself up; halfway to an upright position my overlong limbs gave in and I fell to a wobbly sitting position. I snapped at the air and threw my head before I attempted again in response to the mare's rough nudge; this time, I was ready. Though unsteady on my new body I managed to keep upright. At the success a small smile formed on my muzzle—or tried to, at least, but somehow I couldn't seem to find the right muscles.

The mare gave a few small nickers again and nuzzled my flank a little, much to my indignation. I jumped away from her immediately—I could only prevent my fall with the aid of my wings—and found myself  at her side. A horrid realisation came to me then.

This mare, this imbecile cavemare, had just given birth to me.

I fought not to gag as I took a wobbly step away from the still-nickering mare. She did not seem to approve of my disgust, however; she shot around in front of me immediately and continued to talk in her foalish manner. After a few moments she took a step closer and lowered her head before she nudged me gently and waited. When I did not respond other than to step away, she snorted and nipped at my ear—a little blood beaded on my skin—before she pushed me to her groin area.

Oh Tartarus, no.

Whether this mare was my bearer or not—for she was in no way my mother—I would not sink so low. I was a princess, an immortal ruler of Equestria. I held enough power within to overthrow even Celestia herself, if only I hadn't held back.

Yes, that was it. I held back; I was no monster as my sister was. She could ignore me for all eternity, but I would always maintain my own sense of dignity and my morals.

I was no monster.

I was being bitten again, though. And the nips were far from gentle, too—with each gesture I yelped and leapt. I could only be thankful that none of the noblemares were here to see this indecency; they would cause a great scandal, especially dear old Lady Blueheart. Even more disreputable would have been my eventual compliance when, after a few minutes of the onslaught, I became ravenous.

Oh, Faust. How had I become so desperate in a mere twenty minutes? I felt so weak now and my heart controlled my every move as I crept forwards; my lips wrapped slowly around the mare's teat and, as my small frame shuddered, I began to suck. I would never be able to get back to the Everfree Castle and deal with my sister if I was weak as well as small.

The milk was thick and flowed slowly. It wasn't so unpleasant, I guessed, but there was something of a sour aftertaste which was helped not at all by my own frame of mind. Taste aside, though, it did fill a hole—and so I kept drinking, if only to get the task out of the way for later.

Despite my best intentions, I couldn't fill my stomach completely. The mare stiffened and kicked me off after just ten—no, fifteen—seconds, her ears flicking to and fro as her neck rose as high as possible. She then whinnied a second later and murmured to me a little before she reared up. She shot off a minute later as, from somewhere behind, a cacophony of heavy hoofteps sounded; within a blink's time, a herd—the same cavemare-eque ponies as my bearer—stampeded over a small hill.

Oh, no. I was too weak to make it far on my own, that much I knew for sure. I was technically a newborn foal, after all.

And so, with a quick glance backwards, I ran.

My gallop was much more haphazard than I remembered, but my gangly legs wouldn't allow me to move with grace. I stumbled about and very nearly fell more than once; there was no way I could keep up with my bearer at this point, or even the rest of the herd. I didn't even have the benefit of adrenaline which these mares seemed to be fuelled by at the minute; I was running on the pathetic reserves of energy which I possessed.

From somewhere far behind, I could hear a stallion's deep bellow. I skidded to a stop—and nearly fell—and turned back to see what the issue was. As I did so, though, the stallion turned and fled; as he ran towards me he screamed and threw his head, a command to move.

These ponies were intolerable, but something had obviously spooked them. And so, after a second's pause, I began to gallop again.

It wasn't long before I realised what the issue was. As I ran, still far behind the herd, I could hear the shouts and cries of some bizarre pack of creatures. They spoke somewhat like normal ponies and used a string of continuous words to speak, as did I. The language was nothing that I recognised, however; it was completely foreign.

I turned my head back as I ran and immediately my breath caught in my throat. The pack consisted of some odd ape-like creatures. The things ran on their own gangly legs and roared as they did so, primitive spears and axes clutched in their peculiar paws.

They were hunting—and they drew closer to me with each second.

I squealed immediately, the sound more instinctive than anything. At my cries, my bearer—a good twenty metres ahead now—spun immediately; she galloped to my side and bellowed at the apes as she pushed me forwards with her head. But the hunters were too close now; they were organised and leapt out from behind boulders to block our path. A young one—male, I presumed, though the fur that he wore covered his sex—threw his arms around my bearer's neck and swung up so that he was sat on her back. As she screamed he gave a triumphant roar, grinning like a madmare—or, mad ape, I guess. Then, as his comrades began to swipe at her with their weapons, he gave a shout and shook his head.

I was confused at first, able to merely watch as my bearer threw herself about in a panic. The stallion attacked the ape as well; with a roar he snapped at the hunter's flank and drew a yell of pain. But the creature was stubborn; with a glint in his eyes he leant forwards and grabbed my bearer's muzzle. She screamed, but it was to no avail; he pulled her head to the side and forced her around. Pulled in such a tight circle, she could not maintain her speed; she fell to the ground with a crash and screamed in pain. She thrashed about on the floor but to no avail as the young ape then tied her legs with rope. She was done for.

Though I didn't really care for her specifically, I screamed and lamely ran to her side, a stone now stuck in my hoof. I couldn't survive without her, that I knew; I rushed to her legs to undo the rope, but the ape caught me first. Short as I was, I was no challenge for him; he threw me to the ground next to her and tied my legs too. My magic was no use here; I was too young to use my power.

The stallion had fallen by now; the rest of the pack had taken him down as he attempted to protect me and my bearer. His blood pooled around his body, enough to make me bellow in sheer terror. But the rest of the herd had fled now and we were alone, my bearer and I; at the mercy of these apes.