Opening her eyes, she was surprised, but also not surprised to find that she had vision on both sides of her head. Her face was whole again, her cheek had mended, and her teeth had regrown. Something lurked in the back of her mind, a memory of a memory that was no longer there. She had endured worse.

She saw her captor and ceased all movement, frozen in terror. He was large, capable, and brutish. He was also holding a long iron bar, which was pinched between his clawed thumb and the central knuckle on his wing. She let out a whimper and half closed her eyes, as if her eyelids would somehow protect them from the merciless iron.

“Do you understand me?” her captor asked.

Another whimper. Her mouth moved and she tried to make words, but nothing came out. She cringed, shying away as the big brutish horse creature took a step closer. She didn’t want to feel pain again. There had been too much pain already.

“I know what you are, or at least I have an idea.” Her captor’s eyes narrowed and he made a gesture with the terrible iron bar. “What I can’t figure out is why you are here. You are a mystery to me. I’ve dispatched a messenger to Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armor. They will decide what to do with you.”

She stared at her captor with blank eyes.

“You are a peculiar creature. You show up in the middle of nowhere and try to eat one of my ponies. You have a strange book that stinks of magic that I’ve never encountered before.” He paused, took another step forward, and extended his other wing. He pointed and said, “And you have a cutie mark. I doubted it at first, but after sniffing it a few times, it turned out my assumption was right. How something like you has a cutie mark, I’ll never know. But, it is the reason you are still alive… the reason why I didn’t carve the still beating heart out of your chest and crush it between two iron plates.”

Keeping one eye on her captor, she craned her head around, trying to look at her hip. Sure enough, there was a book there. It looked just like the book she had with her when she had woken up in the cold white flakes. She felt relief when her captor took a step backwards and she kept one eye on the iron bar.

“I have your book. Not many words in it though. Tiufel spawn… I’m one of the few ponies that know what those are. I’ve battled your kind before and I know your infernal stink all too well. But I’ve never seen a tiufel with a cutie mark. Also, your book got some new words in it as I was looking at it. The words ‘The iron, it burns us,’ appeared in a flash of light as I was examining it.”

Overwhelmed and fearful, she let out another whimper. She was laying on something soft, but she didn’t know what it was. She was warm. A fire crackled nearby, living in a strange little room that appeared to be made just for the fire. Perhaps these strange creatures kept fire as pets. There was no strange blue void overhead, but something solid. Something she did not recognise.

One eyebrow raised on her captor’s face. “What are you, and why are you here?”

Her lips moved, but nothing came out. She felt immense relief when her captor lowered the iron bar. Hope blossomed in her breast like a tender bloom of spring. The side of her face was itchy but she did not dare move.

“Was this just a misunderstanding?” her captor asked. “You don’t seem so dangerous now, or threatening, but given what you are, this could be a ruse. Still…” His eyes narrowed and he took a deep breath. “I’ve never, ever seen one of your kind look fearful. I can smell the stench of fear coming off of you. You are terrified of me.”

She tilted her head to one side and studied her captor. He was big, far larger than the little pink horse she had seen, and his coat was a shade of blue-grey that was pleasing to the eye. His mane was a dusky purple blue. His eyes were slitted and were a purple-pink colour.

“My name is Malcanus.” Her captor’s voice was deep and resonant. “If I put this down, will you behave?” His eyes darted over to the iron rod he held. “You are my prisoner. I have subdued you. As my prisoner, you are entitled to certain rights. I am obligated to feed you and see to your well being, but only if you cooperate.”

With nothing that she could say, she blinked and was relieved when he put the terrible iron bar down. It settled into place with a thump, beside something that steamed. It was sitting on something, but she didn’t know what it was. There were a lot of things all around her that she didn’t know.

“I swear, this must be some kind of new infernal trickery… you look as lost and bewildered as a newborn foal.” Malcanus’s face crinkled with worry. “There is a bowl of fish stew on the table here and some dried out bits of rabbit jerky. It’s the middle of winter, so food is hard to come by for those like us.”

Sniffing, she inhaled and turned her attention on the steaming object he had called a bowl. She glanced at her captor, the one called ‘Malcanus,’ and then back at the bowl. The bowl that was sitting next to the terrible iron bar.

As she watched, her captor picked up the bowl, it had a protrusion sticking off of the side that allowed him to grasp it between his thumb and knuckle. She heard the slosh of liquid and her ears perked. Her stomach let out a desperate gurgle.

“I think this was a misunderstanding. You were just hungry, weren’t you?” Malcanus’ eyes narrowed. “Hungry or not, that doesn’t excuse you. You don’t mess with my little ponies. I’ve been out here for years now and I’ve never lost a single one.”

The bowl was set down on the floor in front of her. She brushed away the soft stringy bits all around her, lowered her head, and sniffed. She looked up at Malcanus, wondering if he might give her another thrashing while she had her guard down. The iron hurt like nothing else and she lived in fear of it.

“You made poor Freckle Speckle just about piss herself. You owe her an apology.”

Eyes wide, she looked up at her captor, bewildered and confused.

“Freckle Speckle. The little pink mare that you tried to gobble. She was out there making soap. You oughta be ashamed of yourself.” Malcanus shook his head. “That right there”—he pointed at the book on her backside with his wing—“that makes you one of us.” He pulled his wing away and his ears splayed out sideways.

She mimicked him, also making her ears splay out sideways. She heard him snort, so she snorted back, and sent a stream of glowing embers flying out of her snort holes. She saw him raise his eyebrow, so she did the same. When he bared his teeth in a smile, she did so as well.

“Hmm.” Malcanus shuffled on his hooves. “You don’t seem so bad. But I have my eye on you… you messed with my flock and I don’t abide by that.”

Lowering her head, she sniffed the steaming bowl and she liked what she smelled. She stuck out her tongue, cautious, and touched the forked tip to the liquid in the bowl. It was salty, it was smokey, it was delicious. Her eyes darted upwards, towards her captor and the iron bar. As she kept an eye on them, she began lapping up the contents of the bowl.

Next to the iron bar, the book took on a glow. She kept eating, but watched as Malcanus picked up her book. There was a soft rustle of paper as he flipped it open, and she heard him draw in a deep breath. The glow vanished as he held it and she saw a puzzled expression upon his face.

“For the first time, I ate,” Malcanus read aloud. His eyes darted from side to side as he read and re-read the words on the page. “This is your first time eating?” His expressive face contorted into a whole new expression, one of surprise and shock. “What are you?” He set down the book and let out a snort of frustration.

Of course, she could not answer, as she did not know. She couldn’t even tell him that her first memories were waking up in the cold and that there was nothing before that. She continued lapping up the delicious food as the fire crackled in its little special den.

“Great. You’re still afraid of me and I feel guilty. I feel like I’ve just burned some poor infernal foal’s face against iron… you are an infernal creature, but you act like a scared little filly. If this is a ruse, it is the greatest I have ever seen.” Malcanus shook his head and with a grunt, he sat down upon the floor, which creaked beneath his bulk.

She grabbed the bowl in her talon-fingers, tipped it against her lips, and began to drink it. There were chunks of flesh in there, along with other things that she did not recognise. The broth was greasy and coated her lips. She cringed when her captor’s wing reached out and picked up something from off of the table.

A piece of dried meat was held out to her. She stretched out her neck, sniffed, licked her greasy lips, and sniffed again. The dried meat smelled salty—and it smelled like Malcanus. She found that she liked both of the tantalising scents. With a quick nip, she snatched the chunk of dried meat from Malcanus. She chewed a few times, her sharp teeth making short work of the leathery jerky, and then swallowed with a loud gulp.

“I’d like to know how you made it out of Tartarus,” Malcanus said as he offered his captive another chunk of dried rabbit jerky. “Things don’t escape out of there very often.” The big stallion blinked a few times, looking thoughtful, then added, “I mean, it happens. Sometimes, something big gets out, and sometimes, it’s something little. I’ve fought a whole lot of the little things. Even a few of the big things. Had to stop fighting though.”

Chewing, she looked at her captor, curious.

“The Night Lady”—Malcanus paused for a moment and considered his words—“Most ponies know her as Princess Luna… she said I’d been fighting for too long. Said it was starting to mess with my mind. That I’ve tasted far too much demon blood. That if I kept fighting the things that spill out of Tartarus, I’d become like them.” He let out a wistful sigh. “I think she was right. I started jumping at shadows, and for a nocturnal pony such as myself, that’s bad.”

The bowl was now almost empty. She licked the greasy sides, trying to get every last bit. Malcanus voice was soothing and made her calm, but the iron bar continued to concern her. He seemed nice enough, even though he had just burned off the side of her face a while ago. There was no use holding that against him though, he had food. Delicious soup stuff and dried meat bits. She relaxed a bit, no longer so fearful, lulled by the sound of his voice.

“I couldn’t live in the noisy city… it messed with me in a bad way. I was sent here… to this alicorn forsaken homesteading outpost.” Malcanus’ eyes narrowed. “I like it well enough. I never thought that some demon would come along and try to snack on my ponies. Mostly, I deal with yetis, the occasional frost wolf, and sometimes an ice drake gets brave.”

A ferocious belch resonated from her maw and the iron bar rattled on the table. Malcanus’ ears pinned back against his skull and needless to say, he looked impressed. She watched him, her head tilted off to one side, trying to figure him out. She hoped that he would keep talking. She was warm, full, and feeling a bit drowsy.

Her mind was filled with questions, questions with no answers, like why did she have an image of her book on her hind hips? What had brought her here to this place? Who was she? Did she have a name? She had to have a name. Malcanus had a name. Freckle Speckle had a name. Things had names, it is what both defined and distinguished them from other things.

“I cannot help but wonder if you are part pony… I keep looking at your hoof and your cutie mark.” Malcanus’ eyes narrowed and his brow creased in concentration. “There is something about you. You are infernal, no doubting that, but you have no malice about you, no spite. No need to lash out and attack everything around you. You are strange to me. I wonder what Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armor will say about you?”

In response, she belched again, then yawned.

“I have shown you kindness and generousity… I hope you do not betray my trust. I would like to think that you are better than your first impression let on.” Malcanus stood up and stretched. “Sleep, if you so desire. I shall watch over you. I have to write a report… do you see what you’ve done? You’ve caused me to have to deal with paperwork, something I detest. I shall expect an apology as soon as we can figure out how to get you talking.”

At the mention of the word sleep, she felt her eyelids drooping. Sleep sounded good. Her belly was full, whatever it was that she was laying on was soft, and the fire was warm. She eyed the iron bar one last time, decided that she was no longer concerned by its presence, and then lowered her head down to her forelegs. She yawned, revealing a mouthful of nightmarish teeth and a bright green forked tongue. Sleep was something new to her, she somehow knew what it was without ever having experienced it. She closed her eyes and waited, not knowing how one went to sleep, not exactly.

As she lay there, waiting for sleep to come, Malcanus busied himself with cleaning up, picking up the bowl and then tidying up the room a bit. He added another log to the fire, and as he did so, the book on the table behind him glowed.

Inside, two more entries appeared.

The first read: I made my first friend.

And the second: I face the abyss of sleep for the first time. What dreams might come?

Author's Note

I have material for the third chapter already, but after that, expect a bit of a slow down. This isn't a long story. Expect the tags to change a bit as more elements are introduced.

Also, expect ~~perversion~~ equine erotica.