I'd sigh, but I'm a black avian and every time I try to achieve a sigh I let out a loud caw. And currently, that would be extremely bad for me. You see, I'm usually not in this much trouble. Then again, it's not every day I get chased by a freaking hydra. Wait. I'm actually not too sure about that. Maybe the reason I can't remember anything beyond two days ago is because I was reincarnated.

Oh, I'm an idiot. Reincarnation doesn't work like that. Dimensional displacement? Possession? Am I some sort of god playing a game? Or was I simply always a crow and just got brain damage from slamming into a tree? It certainly would explain why I woke up under a tree, surrounded by what seemed to be my own feathers.

How rude of me! I must introduce myself. I am... Oh great, I don't remember my name either. At least I can describe how I came to be in this situation of mortal peril...

KRAAA!
KRAAA!
KRAAAA!

Suddenly, everything became pain. A cacophony of loud noise, one I somehow knew was from a common carrion crow, emanated from my mouth. My beak, I corrected myself. Hey wise guy, pay more attention to what's going on, my subconscious scolded. I mentally flipped the bird at it, before getting up and realizing my pun. I tried to snicker to myself, but it came out as a distinctive crow call. I attempted frowning, but couldn't with a damn beak.

Then it hit me. I had no idea where I was, how I got here, and who I was before. I could be leaving behind a wife, family, children, friends, and pets. I could have lost things I wouldn't remember. I lowered my head and began trying to remember something-anything I could possibly remember. A sickening crunch, a spatter of red... It was a start, a morbid start, but a start nonetheless. If I could glean more from my past, perhaps I could piece together a way of speech. I read somewhere that crows could mimic sounds they have heard, much like the other corvids.

I started by trying to mimic the sickening crunch. Sure enough, after a minute, I got it down. I also heard a few other noises and managed to successfully learn how to imitate a few bird calls.

During my attempts at bird calls and sound-making, I managed to find a satchel that was just my size. Inside were several pens that I could not grasp properly with my claw, so I tried with my wing. Surprisingly, the wing worked much like a... hand. A memory flashed into my head. A figure grabbed a cup of some sort. The cup was raised to the figure's lips. Odd memory for remembering what a hand is.

After grasping the pen with my facsimile of a hand, I tried writing. Unfortunately, although I knew numbers and characters of a language, it all seemed to translate into strange horseshoes and other symbols that made no sense to me. Even if I tried writing what I somehow knew was called Spanish, it turned out as these weird symbols I mentioned before. I decided to call this strange language Equine, due to most of the symbols being related to horses and other equines.

Putting writing on hold, I began examining my surroundings.

I was in a thicket. Trees crushed up against bushes, thorns wrapping and writhing around each brown monolith. Strangely colored insects skittered about the forest floor, while ethereal primates swung from vines high above. Hoots and howls echoed in the forest, which made me feel a chill down my spine. A dark, foreboding sense of dread struck me as I gazed up into the forest's leafy rafters. No light shone through the branches high above.

The clearing I was in was about... Ten or so meters wide. A respectable distance, if you ask me. This place swallowed empty ground like a lion eating its prey. What it didn't swallow was chewed up and spit out, a home to the beasts of the forest. However, I was in a small camp. I hadn't noticed it before, but I definitely was lurking inside someone's camp. I determined that the best way to survive was to take advantage of this by looting the camp.

Grabbing the satchel and slinging it over my bird shoulder, I began waddling further into the camp with thievery on the mind.

A small voice muttered a string of curses, before rising to its full height. Iron Will didn't have a very good day. The pony he tried to extort had out-swindled him easily. How had he not seen it? His grandpa had told him time and time again, "Now come here, Will," he would say. Then he would tell him, "Them ponies are vicious creatures, little one. They're natural born con-beings, and they've got that damn sun goddess on their side. If'n you try to sell to those swindlers, you be wary of their nasty tricks."

Iron Will sighed and took a sip of his whiskey. Those goats tricked him good, too. Now he was not only homeless, but in debt. This was the last gig he could afford for his program and he wasted it. "Damn ponies..." He muttered as camp slowly became closer to the lumbering minotaur.

Finally, he emerged from the bushes. His camp was exactly as he had left it, except for a small bird trying to nip at a piece of fish just out of its reach. Iron Will chuckled and the bird froze. It slowly turned its head towards him. Then its eyes bugged out. He approached as non-threateningly as possible, but the black avian was completely paralyzed in fear. As he took the fish off of the line the bird shook its head and returned to reality. Iron Will offered the creature the small piece of fish. It cocked its head to the side, then grabbed the piece with its wings much like a pegasus would.

While it munched on the cooked, albeit cold fish, Iron Will started a fire with which to make a meal and warm himself. While he did this, the bird seemed to be looking for something. He ignored it and shrugged. It would probably leave soon, but if it didn't he could simply shoo it. Then, he was surprised to see the bird start writing something. In Unicornian.

While Iron Will's understanding of Unicornian was simple at best, he picked out enough words to understand what it was trying to write.

It grabbed the paper in its beak and held it up. 'Need help. Understand?'

He nodded at the bird's question. It then jumped in joy, before putting the paper on the ground. It wrote out another message.

'Lost. Need.' The last word escaped Iron Will's memory, so he guessed.

"You need shelter?" He asked.

The bird nodded. Iron Will snorted. Freeloaders.

"What do I get out of this?" The minotaur inquired.

I was talking to a minotaur. An actual freaking minotaur.

"What do I get out of this?" He asked.

I decided to answer him via an idea I had after my failed attempts at writing English. I scratched out a sentence in the ground using my left foot, then leaped back and flapped once to send me further backwards. The minotaur stared at the English words for a moment, before asking, "You just want to stay for a night?" I nodded.

He replied, "I suppose I can allow you that. But in the morning, I expect to not see you in my camp." He spoke surprisingly well for a minotaur. The memory I first had when I saw him was of a story about a minotaur from Greek mythology. The one about the maze. Not sure if you know it, but there's not enough time, nor enough memories in my brain.

And that was that. I slept until the morning and then left. No, I'm kidding. It goes more like this...

The moon pierced the canopy, shining down on the little stick hut I had made with trial and error. Hoots and haws and other ambience kept me from my sleep, grating on my little bird-mind. Finally, I became accustomed to the noise, drifting off into the land of dreams slowly...

Until the sound of breaking sticks made me dart up to my bird feet, having barely made any noise. I scanned my gaze rapidly over each and every detail of the clearing, until I came upon the offender. It was a pony. It had a milky white coat, illuminated in the light of the moon. Scars covered its body, a flintlock pistol and dagger holstered at its side. Its hair was a brown, with yellow highlights. A nubby horn protruded from the locks of hair.

I decided, then, that the best course of action was to wake up the minotaur. I grabbed the nearest pointy object, a small stick, and carefully began creeping over to the creature's tent.

Just then, the pony's eyes snapped to attention, looking straight at me.

The eyes were blood red.

Author's Note

Fixed a glaring error and changed hours to days. I can't believe I let that slip by me!