The Taming of the Moon

Well, this was hardly a welcome befitting of a princess—or any member of the gentry, for that matter. For all intents and purposes, I was hardly an hour old. And yet, despite that, here I was with a heavy rope tied around my neck—my bearer's, too—and being pulled along by a number of the apes at spearpoint.

I had to admit, for such simple creatures the pack was quite smart to have crafted such sophisticated weapons. They wielded them with well practiced ease as well, a threat great enough to make any helpless mare walk. But I would not panic. Rather I would keep a level head and assess this situation and the danger, something my bearer could have done with considering. I walked with as much grace and poise as I could muster, head held high but with my eyes and ears always on the alert; she took it to an extreme, screaming and bucking and rearing and biting. And to think I was supposed to be the foal here.

But to give my bearer credit, she did succeed in giving the apes a hard time. Personally, I couldn't quite decide what they wanted to do with us—perhaps this was an attempt to keep our meat fresh, though they didn't look as if they possessed the brains to have thought of that. It was, however, the only theory I could come up with.

It wasn't long before our ambling was over. The herd, it seemed, had strayed too close to the apes' den—no, Luna. I was too harsh on them; the settlement that they had here genuinely looked like some sort of cavemare village. The huts were slightly different from anything I knew, but that was beside the point. It had been made undeniably by some reasonably skilled creature; by the sight of the fire which crackled in the middle of the village, it was safe to assume that these apes had not plundered it and claimed it as their own after all (which had been my original conclusion). But then, if that was the case, one question remained; what exactly where these intelligent beings, and why had I never seen any of them before?

I had more pressing issues than the mysterious nature of these creatures at present, however—namely the fallen tree that the apes had tied me to. They were skilled in knots to their credit; once they stepped away, I had tried to escape but to no avail. Every inch that I pulled back dug the rope tighter into my neck and drew a hiss and a snarl from me. I tried my best to strike at the binds with my horn, but the attacks bore no fruits.

My bearer, as before, was in a frenzy. Her struggles were slower for sure but she continued to fight. I watched in horror as she pulled backwards; the rope tightened around her neck, a boa constrictor around its prey, so that with each buck she only shouted and screamed more.

Were all peasants so flighty? The ones that I had met certainly had not been this way, even when their princess towered above them. Ponies were, though I hated to admit it, scared of me; I represented all of their greatest fears of darkness and cold, despite my night's beauty. I was, perhaps, a cloaked nightmare; not dangerous—I was not a monster—but easily misunderstood.

This so-called nightmare, however, was now a foal. And, by the stars, I didn't want to deny ponies of my reign of blissful nighttime yet. My sister, that horrid mare that my—our—subjects admired and cherished for qualities I could not fathom, had defeated me now. But that only proved her vicious and undeserving nature; I would grow strong again and would, without question, save my little ponies from her secretly tyrannical rule.

And to grow strong, I needed that somewhat repulsive but lifegiving milk which my bearer could give. And for me to get it from her, she had to be alive—so I could not allow her to die on me yet.

I was weak. I couldn't even manage a spark of magic, and this earth pony had plenty of magic in her veins; to put up such a fight, she must have had. But I did have one trump card and I was not afraid to play it. Not in the slightest.

I opened my mouth slowly and took a slow breath in as I readied myself. Then, as I let my ears fall, I began to paw at the ground and clack my teeth, a gesture many foals would use to ask an adult to go gentle; in this case, though I knew it would not work, I directed it at the apes to demonstrate fear to my bearer. I also clamped my feeble tail and flared my nostrils. I snorted now and then as loudly as I could and interrupted the noise with a high pitched neigh or two.

That got the mare's attention. She settled quickly—instinct was wonderful—and began to nicker at me as she stepped closer and nuzzled my side a little. She then stood tall over me and watched with alert eyes and ears, posture tense. It was far from perfect but she was not straining against the rope; I would take what I could get.

The apes, however, did not seem so pleased; they ran at us with spears and clubs, growling and hissing. They were odd creatures—but none more so that the male who stepped forwards and threw out his paws and shouted at his companions in a loud and angry manner. I couldn't understand what he had said, naturally, but the tone he used was unmistakeable.

He trotted over to us at that point; his eyes gleamed and his mouth was curved up into a massive smile as he reached towards my bearer. She bellowed once again, of course, no longer entranced by me. But I saw no weapons on  him and he had no claws; I would be wary—though small, my horn was deadly sharp—but at least approachable.

A princess had to serve every one of her subjects, after all.

I nickered a little and stepped as close to the male as my rope would allow, my ears now pricked forwards. My bearer tried to nudge me away, but that came as no surprise; I merely nipped her nose and pushed closer to the ape again, my eyes sparkling. I would have smiled if I could, but with my new mouth muscles I would have probably looked unsettling; I instead opted for lolling my tongue out casually. A humiliating gesture, but I doubted the peasant and the animals would mind too much.

As I had predicted, the ape seemed overjoyed at my willingness. He made a few short, primitive barks of laughter and grinned even wider; then he rushed to the tree, shouting at the men who got in his way, and undid the knots in a single swipe.

There were two options now; I could run and be free with my bearer, though whether we would find the herd was questionable, or I could wait here. To stay did, admittedly, seem like a foalish choice; these apes had killed my bearer's stallion, at the end of the day.

But they hadn't killed us yet.

My bearer hardly batted an eyelid before she leapt into action and ran; she tore the rope from the ape's paws and fled immediately. I, however, remained rooted to the spot as I glanced between the male and the mare.

It wasn't a sense of loyalty which made me pause—I felt nothing towards either being. Rather my own curiosity raged a war against rationality, and in the end won out. It was a gamble on so many counts, I knew that, but I could not help myself.

My bearer was, by now, a good fifty metres away; the apes would never have caught up with her now if she were to run. But she was still, crying out at me to follow; she shouted continually as if she thought I did not understand. But I was perfectly aware of what she said, and even more convinced that I wanted to hang around.

When the mare quietened, I half expected her to turn tail and flee. But, thank Faust, she was too overwhelmed by motherly instincts; she walked forwards slowly and snorted as any ape came close to her so that, by the time she stopped, she was a few metres from me.

Well, that was a good start.

The ape kept his distance away from my bearer now, somewhat wary of her. He seemed quite fond of me, though, even if—as far as he knew—his village had just killed my sire. He offered me food at every possibly opportunity, which though pleasant smelling was impossible for me to eat. I sniffed at it quite readily, however, and my bearer seemed reassured by the gesture; she inched closer slightly and reached her neck towards the ape to nibble at the grass. As soon as it touched her lips, she tore it from his grasp and galloped away in an arc; she returned to my side a moment later and, I realised with some humiliation, her presence was actually reassuring.

After a minute of walking around the village, however, my cheerful mood fell when the ape tied me up to another tree, this time on a branch. Though not small, I was sure that I could have broken it if I needed to. But instead, as I watched him leave with a skip in his step, I stayed where I was and instead turned to my bearer. I began to suckle slowly, an act which she seemed most pleased with, and let my thoughts wander to how I could, one day, take back my throne and save my ponies and subjects—including the mare I now drank from—from Celestia's scorching, vanity-driven reign.