Chapters It was all over. My splendid new kingdom of eternal nighttime beauty was to fall—and only a half hour after its spectacular birth, no less.
"No! No !"
That horrid beam of joy and laughter, the things my so perfect night lacked, was so strong. It tore through my magic and engulfed my body; it burned every one of my limbs with its sickly sweetness. And then, as a scream tore itself from my throat, I lost control of my own position in the air; as my heavy wings stopped beating I was flung from my kingdom at the hooves of my own sister—my selfish, vain, holier-than-thou sister.
I continued to scream as the rainbows catapulted me away, my panic ever greater as I realised where my destination was; my moon, my spectacular moon.
How fitting. My wonderful sister surely couldn't bear to have somepony such as myself tarnish her equally magnificent sun.
None of my subjects could hear my cries now, nor would they have heard my roar as my body was pummelled against the rock—and sunk straight through. But my momentum hardly slowed at all and, in a breath's time, I was catapulted right out of the other side. But still the rainbows carried me onwards as they threw me as far away as possible from my beloved, ignorant little ponies.
A mare's slender head vandalised the flawless finish on my moon now, but I hardly had time to watch. In fact, I could not see clearly in general; my vision had blurred, my ears were muffled and my body, previously surrounded by nothing but magic, suddenly began to feel compressed. Confined, even, as if I was in some tight fitting cell.
But this was no jail. For one, no cell that I knew of—and I ought to know, for I had designed them alongside my dear sister—was filled with liquid. But more than that, there was no room to move and, as I tried to open my now-closed eyes, I could see nothing. I could smell nothing, either, but my ears could pick up on something low... Grumbles, moans. Sounds of distress.
There was no time for me to ponder the noises. Almost immediately something warm clenched around my body and forced me forwards, strong enough to shove my hooves and muzzle through a small, hard gap. I winced immediately, the surroundings suddenly cooler. The grumbles became louder as well, though they died out a little as the force eased off; a moment later, I was jolted about in my confines, my body floppy as it was jostled about.
The disturbance lasted for a good few minutes before it settled and the warm push returned. It lasted longer this time, powerful enough to shove my head out through the hole so that I lay halfway. I moaned as I waited; the hard matter dug into my stomach.
I could, at last, smell air now. It was odd and unlike anything I had smelt before, but that was irrelevant, I supposed. A more pressing matter, quite literally, was the pushing warmth which had now returned; I moaned and grunted and hissed as the most powerful shove came into existence and tore a small, muffled yelp from my mouth. The pressure was overwhelming; it tore every nerve in my body to shreds and surely shattered every bone to mere shards.
And then, as my shoulders emerged through the hole, the pressure stopped; I felt my body slip and at that moment, a blast of cool air struck me as I hung limply. I was not flying—my wings were firmly clamped to my side—and I still could see nothing, my eyes unresponsive.
I remained in the limp position for only a moment before I slipped further and, with a muted gasp and whimper, I flopped out from whatever beast my sister had imprisoned me in. I fell for only a second before I felt my body crumple against something hard and earthy—dirt, I supposed. Wet dirt now, for it had burst whatever casing had kept me trapped.
For some reason that thought made my heart race. I needed air, needed to breathe—had I even been doing so before?
I gasped for air, my lungs suddenly feeling swollen and waterlogged. I then spluttered and coughed as I thrashed about, still unable to open my eyes. But no matter how hard I tried, I could not get the air I so needed, nor could I clear my chest—a thick coating was wrapped around my muzzle, hindering my attempts. Or so it had seemed until something warm and wet and rough began to clear it away—was that a tongue?—and, in only a few moments, I could hear and breathe and see again.
My vision was blurred as I glanced about, but when I looked behind myself there was no denying what I saw; a silvery blue mare with uncombed, vaguely savage-esque black hair and a small white snip on her muzzle, large enough to just cross her wet nose. Her proportions were peculiar, much finer than most ponies—more similar to a cavemare than any modern-day equine.
She looked down at me with a sparkle in her brown eyes and, even though her body was drenched in sweat, the small nicker that she made was soft and sweet. She lowered her head at the same time and nuzzled behind my ear gently.
Who was this peasant earth pony, to think that she could treat royalty so leniently?
I snarled a little as I flattened my ears and leapt to my hooves. The moment that I did so my legs buckled; I fell back down to the ground with a cry and landed heavily on my muzzle. The pain drew a yelp from my lungs and yet more murmurs from the peasant mare. As I looked up at her and nursed my muzzle with a hoof, though, something struck me.
My coat was blue, no longer black, and I wore neither my standard nor my nightmare shoes. On which note, my hooves seemed so dainty—and oddly hairless, but that could be dealt with later.
I glanced back up to the peasant mare as she licked my legs and pushed her away with my horn, my wings flared out. She only retreated for a moment before she then began to preen my feathers, ignorant of my displeasure. As she did so, she did not speak once; she just continued to nicker.
This was ridiculous; insulting, even! While I was never a supporter of segregated social class—if anypony would enjoy my night then I would accept them, peasant or not—but a princess had to upkeep her status and act accordingly. Thus, I opened my mouth to give her a quick lesson in respecting her betters—and only managed a small squeak.
I gasped and raised my hoof to my throat, rubbing it gently. Once more I tried, to no avail—and then realised that I did not have my necklace, either. I hesitated for a moment and then I flicked my ears quickly; my heart sunk right out of my chest when I felt no crown on my head.
I turned my head backwards to look at myself; my chest burned and bile slowly rose in my throat when I saw my tiny wings. I then glanced down at my legs and held my breath at their thin, gangly nature. They were much too long for my body—but even if I was to stand, I'd still be half the hight of the peasant mare.
Oh my.
I was a foal.
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.
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.
Though my first day had been warm, the night was frigid. The wind howled through the leaves which surrounded my bearer and me, powerful enough to make me shudder. It was ironic, really; the darkness was my own domain so I ought to have been calmed by the familiar, mystifying eeriness. It was not, however, of my bearer's preference (naturally). She bucked and whinnied all night long at every little thing; a leaf on her back or a blade of grass tickling her side. It was enough to send a mare mad—but I was too tired for that, really. And so, as she bronced about, I curled up into a ball, fluffed out my feathers and surrounded my body with a wall of dirt to keep out the wind.
After a short and particularly restless slumber—being a mare of the night, I usually slept soundly enough to sustain myself with only a few hours—I awoke to, I had to admit, a rather pleasant morning. It was not such a surprise, though; of course dear Celestia would tease me so. To honour my night by still lowering the sun and raising the moon on my behalf—only to make my domain unpleasant and hers unusually agreeable.
My sister had not—and never would—change. That I knew for a fact, though it did make my heart ache slightly to think so. She was my sister, after all—but such a selfish and greed-fuelled monster of a mare such as she did not deserve even my acknowledgement.
I had more pressing matters to worry about, however, than my sister's pitiful and over-glamourised existence. My stomach growled and gurgled and my bearer nickered at me quietly. When I did not react to her, she began to nudge my flank gently and nipped slightly; I, in turn, gave her muzzle a weak buck and snorted, a scowl across my own face. Was this mare so foolish as to not realise that I, tied up as I was, could not get to her udder?
Seeing that my bearer, imbecile that she was, was not going to step towards me so that I could drink, I rolled my eyes and turned my attention to the rope which bound me. If I could only get a little magic to untie the knot—but try as I might, it was to no avail. I could not even manage so much as a spark or a feeble glow.
In that case, my earth-pony strength seemed to be the ability I needed now. As I closed my eyes I took a deep breath and began to pull, wincing as the binding around my neck dug in tighter—and the rope refused to fray in the slightest.
Well, Tartarus. I could not fly to free myself, for my foal's wings were much too small to give me lift—if I even had my magic to boost me up. But by the looks of it, I was completely lacking in any form of equine power, a realisation which made my immature heart freeze and drop from my chest.
But there was no need to panic, surely. No newborn foal has magic strong enough to control their race's talent; I should be no exception. Nevertheless, despite my reassurances and logical reasoning, I still felt as if something was absolutely, terribly wrong.
That was a worry for another time, however. The ape from before had returned and, to my surprise, carried a reasonably well carved bowl in his hands. It was made from bone, a fact which genuinely surprised me; such items had not been used since the time of the cavemares. It begged the question, could these creatures craft? And furthermore, could these apes—one day—be threats to Equestria's great civilisation? I quickly brushed off the thought and laughed to myself; such puny creatures as these would never be much of an issue for a race with magic so plentiful as that of the ponies.
With the exception of myself, I added rather bitterly.
Though my bearer snorted and whinnied at the ape, it did not seem too unnerved. In fact, though it watched her warily—notifiably its gaze rested on her hooves—he bent down to me and placed the bowl by my legs. Then, with a momentary pause, he raised his paw slowly and moved it towards me; unable to escape him, I merely bared my tiny foal teeth at him but otherwise kept still as he placed it on my fur. He began to rub slowly and then raised his paw to scratch behind my ear. The action drew a coo from me and I stopped snarling quickly as I gave a sigh.
The pleasurable fondling, however—I assured myself that it was not unbecoming when none of the creatures seemed to recognise me—ended much too abruptly. But, when I opened my eyes, I found something even better laying right in front of me; to my surprise, the bowl was not merely for display and was—surely a sign of an intelligent race—filled with exactly what I needed right now; milk .
I could not fathom how this creature realised my hunger, but I hastened to lower my lips to the bowl nevertheless and greedily began to slurp. Frankly, I wasn't sure what I had expected, but this milk was not the equine milk which my bearer had provided; it was, plain and simple, cow milk.
For some inexplicable reason, it felt like the best thing I had ever tasted.
The supply was gone much too quickly, however. As I licked the bowl for every last drop, the ape gave a deep chortle and removed it from my reach, ruffling my mane with rough paws. I, too, felt my heart rise slightly at the creature's delight; I gave a small whinney and bucked about on the spot, flapping my tiny wings as I did so. However, my bearer was less than pleased; she roared as she galloped forwards with a snort and snapped her teeth at the ape, standing protectively over me. She threw her head and stomped her hoof, ears completely pinned; the ape, to no surprise of my own, gave a short yelp and fled.
I snorted a little and rolled my eyes as I reached under my bearer's stomach, finally able to reach her teats now that I was full. But I suckled slowly all the same, if not for myself but to relieve the poor mare's discomfort. When I drew back, however, I couldn't help but smile—or try to smile with my peculiar new muzzle muscles—at the sight of her grazing quite contentedly now, nibbling at grass without worry.
I lay down quietly and let my head lay on the floor, sighing as I licked the grass tentatively. I was too young to eat yet, but that wasn't to say I couldn't enjoy the taste—or so I had thought, until a quiet but eerily familiar voice sounded inside my head.
Fate has been cruel and order unkind...
I stiffened for a moment and then froze, my only movements being the rapid darting of my eyes and the swivelling of my ears. But I heard nothing more, and my bearer had not so much as flinched at the gentle song.
Oh my gosh.
I hissed as I leapt to my hooves; a raging fire suddenly burned in my veins. I snorted and bucked and reared, striking the bark of the tree and catching the rope on my hooves. And then, as I gave an especially large kick, I felt my balance fail me; the rope wrapped around my leg and I fell with a thud on my back, entangled in the bindings.
I gasped as the pain shot through my body and then whimpered a little as my bearer stepped closer. Striking her with my free hoof, I then let out a breath and kept still, closing my eyes.
She would pay.
