Archery

You awoke to the sound of thunder. You open your eyes only to shut them immediately after doing so. The white lights stung your eyes. Even with your eyes closed, you could see the flash of lightning through your eyelids, and realized it was useless shutting your eyes.

You let your eyes open slowly, letting your pupils adjust to the light. You opened them completely half a minute later, only to realize you’re in a hospital. You glance around your room, noting the downpour outside your hospital window. Your bow and arrow holster (quiver), leaning against the wall by the side of your bed, but you wonder where the gun could have gone to. You shrug it off. You didn’t need a gun anyway.

There was a heart rate monitor hooked up, along with IV drips that channelled the saline solution into your bloodstream. The door opened, and you were greeted by the strangest thing you had ever seen. A white horse, no no, a white pony with a pink mane came in, a clipboard in its mouth. It was wearing one of those nurses cap that you saw the nurses in the local hospital wearing. She had what seems to be a tattoo on her thigh.

You stared and mumbled out a few unintelligible words, as the nurse set the clipboard down on a side table meant for putting lamps. She glanced over to the heart rate monitor for a couple of seconds before checking the clipboard again.

What happened next scared the living shit out of you. The white pony opened its mouth, and spoke. Had it not been for the blanket, the pony would have noticed you shivering in fear, though you knew she could tell by the sudden incline of beeps coming from the heart rate monitor. Nevertheless she spoke anyway.

“Somepony found you lying in the streets a couple of nights back, and you were bleeding out. You’re very lucky that somepony found you out in that rain.”

Somepony... You heard that line and immediately went Somepony that I used to know! in your mind. You would have laughed really loud had you not wondered what the white pony meant by somepony. That song was hot on the radio. The white nurse notices your confusion and arches an eyebrow herself, as if she were confused as well.

“I’ve never seen a creature like you around here before. In fact, neither of the doctors here have seen a creature like you before!” It exclaimed.

Feeling some of your mental abilities come back, you form a question in your mind that you pop a second later, “What do you mean creature? And what the hell are you?” The white pony stepped a few paces back, as if surprised that you could talk, before answering.

“Uhm.. We normally refer to living things without names as creatures when we have absolutely no record of said creature’s existence.” She scrunched her face and answered your second question, “And I’m a pony.”

The first thing that forms in your mind was a simple word, yet it summed up what you felt. “What.”

You stare at the white pony again, and the pony stares back. The staring continues for a few seconds before you blink.

“Anyway,” The pony starts again. “The one who found you a couple of nights back, apparently, came back from archery practice, which, judging by your equipment, was what you were doing before you got to where you were. Mind me asking what happened?”

You think through what happened, mentally sifting your flour of thoughts, hoping to retell everything chronologically so as not to confuse the pony. But first you ask the pony a question, “Are you a boy or a girl? I don’t feel comfortable calling things ‘it’.”

It nods and says, “I’m a mare.”

You nod, and begin with your story. What was supposed to be a night of practice ended with you defending yourself against two armed men. Her face went from awe to disgusted when you told her about the dirty deed but then went to surprise when you said a bright light was the last thing you saw before waking up here in hospital.

“Well that would explain the blood on your bow then.”

You suddenly remember that you had used your bow as a melee weapon back at the firing range and glance over at your bow. It had a few penny-sized dried blood stains, much to your surprise, considering how you had practically bashed the poor man into oblivion.

“We took the liberty of wiping down your bow so as not to spread any diseases that could be in the blood. If we didn’t clean the blood off, somepony would have to burn your bow, you know, biological hazards and such.”

You nod. “You said something about the uh....pony...? The one that found me a couple of nights back? You said it just came back from archery practice?”

“She came back from archery practice.” The mare corrected you. “Indeed she did. She’s the only archer in the whole of Ponyville, which would probably be fitting with her name, Archer.”

So this place is called Ponyville, huh. And there’s a mare that goes by the name of Archer. You weren’t sure if you were still unconscious or just hallucinating and are still lying down back at the firing range, or both.

“Archer, huh....” You mutter. “What’s your name then?”

“Nurse Redheart.” She smiled.

You smile back. These ponies all have weird names. It must be equally weird if I told her your name as well. As if she read your mind, she asked you what your name was. You tell her, and she nodded.

“Well, anyway, you’re doing rather well and should be out somewhere within the next three days.” A dull pain in your ankle and your stomach quickly reminded you how close you were to not being here right now. “Whatever it was that struck you, we managed to extract it, but we’ve never seen anything like it before either. The researchers down in the bio lab are currently checking into whatever it might be.”

You shrug. “Wait, did you take my gun?”

When Nurse Redheart looked confused, you mimicked the shape of a gun with your fingers. She nodded. “We had to take it to prevent any other unfortunate incidents should anypony get their hooves on it. So it’s with us for the time being.”

You sigh, even though you were expecting this.

“Anyway, I’ll be at the infirmary should you need me.” She gestured a hoof at a controller with two buttons dangling by the side of your bed. One was labelled help, and the other was labelled with a question mark. “Press the question mark if you have any inquires, and if you need any help, press the help button.”

Nurse Redheart took her clipboard, and was about to leave when she suddenly remembered something. She set her clipboard down once more, and turned to face you. “By the way, Archer will be visiting you later. It would make sense that she would since she found you out there and all, and she’s concerned of your well being. Either that or she’s just happy to find another archer just like her.” She giggled, picked the clipboard up, and left, waving a hoof as she closing the door.

You wave back, and rested your head on your pillow, wondering how this was all logically possible.

You dozed off, but woke up when there was a knock on the door. You were going to say ‘come in’, but the phlegm in your throat was making it sound cracked up for some reason. You clear your throat, and say, “Come in.”

The door opened, and a mare walked in, albeit a bit smaller than Nurse Redheart. The mare had a coat of blue, and a mane of blue that was darker than her coat and grayish purple eyes. She had her own quiver on her back as she nodded to me. You estimate her age to be a couple or so years under Nurse Redheart’s age considering how the two almost had the same body size.

The mare grinned and said, “Hi there. I’m Archer.”

You smile and tell her your name. “I just want to thank you for getting me here safely. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here.”

She merely blushed and shrugged it off. “Oh it was nothing. Miss Cherilee always said that we should help those in need, even though I’ve already graduated from her class for a couple of years.” You think she looks cute when she blushes. It was really obvious on that blue face of hers.

She pulled up a stool and set it down near the foot of your bed. She sat on it, and you could already feel the flood of questions awaiting you. You hope that she wouldn’t ask about you did before you came here, but you know that question will be inevitable.

She looked around for awhile, most likely wondering what sort of questions she should be asking you. You didn’t mind, so you let her continue. After what seemed like to be a few minutes, she finally spoke.

“So what were you doing before you got out there in the rain?”

Surprise gripped you, and evidently showed on your face as she analyzed your shocked state. You tensed up a bit, took a deep breath, and relaxed. You knew that there was probably nothing wrong with Archer knowing what really happened. After all, she seems to be old enough to know about murders and things, right?

You start telling her about what happened during practice. You left out the part where you smashed your bow into the intruder on purpose as not to indicate you were too violent, but you didn’t cover it that well.

“After you were shot in the ankle, what did you do? I mean it’s not like you wouldn’t have done anything else to the man anyway.”

You keep your mouth shut, slowly thinking through what she had just said. She expected you to have done something after you were down on the ground, but you still weren’t sure if you should tell her.

“You don’t have to say anything if you did something really bad. I’m not forcing or anything.”

You stared at her, dumbstruck. It was as if she was reading your mind. Her eyes seemed to penetrate your brain, going through every single thought happening in your head. You shrug, and winced a bit at a sudden sting in the bullet wound your abdomen suffered. You cough a bit, and reach over to a small table to your side, grabbing a glass of water and drank it, leaving roughly half the amount of water there was earlier.

You set it back down on the table and turn to face Archer, who was staring at the glass of water. You looked at her before you opened your mouth.

“May I ask you a question, Archer?”

Archer’s line of sight went from the glass to your face. “Hmm..?”

“Are you an optimist or a pessimist?” You said, a finger pointing at the glass of water that was, in your perspective, half-full.

She blinked, and said nothing for a short period. After what seemed like a few minutes, she spoke. “I’d say that the glass has water inside it. I wouldn’t say it is half-full, nor will I say it is half-empty. The glass of water, either half-full or half-empty, would still be enough to quench one’s thirst.”

What. You weren’t sure what she was, but the word that seemed to flash in your mind at the moment was ‘realist’. You aren’t sure what it means, but you think it’s something related being realistic or something.

“But I don’t really know the word for something like that, so I’ll just go with optimist.” The mare grinned wide.

You couldn’t help but just smile. The mare’s grin was just so adorable, that had you not been in such a terrible condition to move, you’d hug her tightly. You refrained yourself however, not wanting to injure your already screwed-up ankle.

“Why do you ask?”

You stretched your neck a little and cracked it, feeling the stiffness melt away. You sighed, and put on a smile.

“Because I want to see how you would see an archery match between the two of us.”

She leaves the room half an hour later, waving a goodbye before shutting the door behind her. You lay back down, wondering what happens next. Archer had denied your request, and said she’d consider it when you were well again, much to your disappointment. She had instead invited you to a competition that would she would participate in by the end of the month. Glancing over to the calendar on the side of your table, you note that the competition will be next week. You sighed.

You pulled the blanket up to your neck and laid on your right side. When you pulled it up, your toes peeked out because the blanket wasn’t long enough to accommodate your size. The storm outside had ceased, leaving behind some mist and really cool air. You drifted off to sleep, content with nature’s air conditioning.

While you slept, you went about in your dreams with a tingling feeling in your injured ankle. You could feel the tingling coming from inside your injured ankle, but you knew that this has happened before and it would actually be useless for you to try and scratch the feeling away. You were wearing a robe, something like a bathrobe, only a bit more baggier. You were walking barefoot on soft ground, a mixture of gravel and sand. The feeling of the tiny, discrete particles between your toes made you feel happy somehow.

High above your head, you could see clouds, being molded into whatever shape you want them to be. The sun was up and you could feel its rays warming you up, most notably around the bullet wound in your abdomen. This time, there was no pain from the wound, but rather a tingle like the one in your foot now.

You take a deep breath, and continue walking, head still looking up at the clouds. This continues for a few moments before you felt warm water against the soles of your feet, albeit the feeling doesn’t overcome the tingle in your ankle. The warm water washed over your feet, giving you chills unlike anything else you’ve gotten chills from so far.

The sound of a bowstring releasing made you turn around. Archer was there, with her bow and arrows, and was peppering the sandy soil with arrows. You try your best to make some sense out of that, but you just sat down on the ground, and looked back at the sky. The clouds didn’t seem to be moving.

What was weird was that the sun was high above your head a moment ago, but now it seemed to be sinking into the horizon. The tingle in your abdomen and ankle intensify with every single degree the sun descends.

An arrow landed right next to you, just shy of the water. You were going to pick it up when a flash of light filled your eyes. The sun’s rays were still visible, but the sun had already sunk. The flash of light returned again, and you shielded your eyes. You couldn’t tell what was happening, but you sure as hell know that it stung your eyes terribly.

You awoke, the tingly feeling gone, and your face bathed in sweat. The lights in your room had been dimmed, and the curtains had been pulled. You tried moving, and much to your surprise, you could actually move your injured ankle without feeling much pain. You took your blanket off and stared at your injured ankle and your jaw dropped.

It was like nothing happened at all to your ankle. It was close to the condition it was before your archery practice three nights back. You got off the bed, bringing along the IV post as you went, and moved a bit of the curtain. It was night time.

Outside, several ponies were still going about, but you could many buildings with their lights on, I shouldn’t even be surprised. It was the same story back at home anyway.

Nurse Redheart entered your room the next morning. You had slept the night away, but somehow still feel tired. You reach over to the glass on the side table and finish up the water inside.

“You’ll be glad to know that several of our unicorn doctors paid you a visit last night.”

A look of surprise crossed your face. Since when did they visit me?

“Around that time, you were already asleep of course, but that only made the procedure all the more easier. Your ankle and abdominal injury should be about ninety percent fixed by now, with the other ten percent coming from just a little bit more of rest.”

“Would that explain the tingle in my ankle and stomach last night? You asked.

Nurse Redheart pulled a face. “Oh my, you actually felt it?”

You nod.

“Well the tingle should be part of the doctors’ healing process last night. If you feel better, you’re free to discharge. Once you do so, I’ll contact Archer to come pick you up.” She disconnected the IV drips and heart rate monitor and nodded at you before leaving.

You got out of bed and stretched a bit. Glancing over at your bow and the arrow holster, you finally realize your arrows had run out, even though you had fired the last one three nights back. You didn’t care. Archer would have more.

You picked your bow up, and savour the heaviness of the ancient weapon. It was forty-two pounds, but it felt lighter than a brick. You set it back down and decided to check out of the hospital. You open the door, and find Nurse Redheart at a counter, going through some files. You wave at her, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

You approached the counter and poked her in the mane, right below the nurses cap. She let out a yelp and looked up. You couldn’t help but grin at how silly she was not to notice you.

“I’d like to check out, please.”

Nurse Redheart merely nodded, trying best not to blush even though you could see she was on that white coat of hers. She handed you a release form and a pen, and you sign the paper. You set the pen down and make one more request.

“Would you please ask Archer to bring some arrows as well?”

She nodded, and added your request to a scroll she was writing on, informing the Archers that you were fit to leave and are checking out. You head on back to your ward and went through your belongings. Your clothes were pretty much a lost cause since the hospital officials incinerated them prevent any viruses from your world to get into the pony universe.

Archer had given you a brief rundown on Equestria yesterday. She expected you to be surprised when she said this was a universe of ponies and several other non-earthly creatures. You didn’t really mind that fact considering you were being taken care of by such kind hearted creatures.

You couldn’t hook the arrow holster on since the hospital gowns made it rather impossible to do so, so instead you just left it on your bed along with your bow. You opened a mini fridge right next to your bed and took out a bottle of water. It was funny how ponies made items that require fingers to open. Either that or they made this specially for me. Either way, you were going to have to adjust to the ways of life here, with or without help from others.

You unscrew the cap and down the contents of the bottle. You were about to set the bottle back down on the side table when you finally notice a figure standing in the doorway. Surprised, you almost did a spit-take, but managed to swallow all the fluids down, coughing when finished. The figure at the door collapsed in a fit of laughter. By the time you finished, the blue earth pony was wiping the tears away.

You pout at Archer, who was still giggling a bit. You got off the bed and poked her in the cheek, snapping her from her laughing stupor. You glare at her, who was trying her best not to break out into a laugh again. She had an arrow holster on her back, separated into two sections; one with carbon arrows, another with steel arrows.

She got back up, and cleared her throat. She took her holster off, and gestured a hoof at the carbon arrows. “These will be yours to use since I don’t use these that much. They’re pretty much too long for me.” She put the holster on the bed and went over to the seat she sat on yesterday. You nodded and took seven carbon arrows out, and put it into your own arrow holster.

Archer grinned as she spoke, “When you feel well enough, we can start practicing for the tournament. The competition may not be that soon, but procrastination won’t help us out if we embrace it.”

You shrug, “Hey, I’m good to go now if you want me to start.”

Archer’s grin widened, “Excellent.”

The day went by with a blur. You had left the hospital at around afternoon time and by the time the training was nearly over, it was already evening and your muscles were aching. Your ankle and abdomen pain had ceased before the training, but the pain seemed to come back slowly for every arrow you fired. Nurse Redheart had told you to get some rest, but you know that resting won’t bring progress. Besides, she probably knows how much a pony should rest anyway. Humans are a different matter.

You had done well, but when it was Archer’s turn, your jaw dropped. The first two arrows she had fired hit red, which gave you some relief, before she fired her remaining five arrows, which grouped around the centre yellow. You, on the other hand, had scored a couple of bullseyes, with the rest sprayed across the target in an inconsistent sweep. You didn’t even expect yourself to score a bullseye, let alone two, since you lacked practice.

You walked quickly towards the target, set at an impressive ninety metres, down the field. Archer told you that she had informed Rarity, the town fashionista/tailor, would be done with your clothes by tomorrow, which means the ninety metres of walking was with you in a hospital gown. You didn’t mind. The moon was just about to rise above the horizon, and a breeze had started flowing like fluids through the air. The short walk passed rather quickly, you looking up at the moon and savouring the early-night breeze, and you reach the target.

You pulled your arrows out by the neck first, surprised how deep the carbon arrows had penetrated. About a foot and a half had entered the target, at the very least, for each of your arrows. You turn to take Archer’s arrows, which only had the fletching showing out of the target. Though her steel arrows were shorter than your carbon arrows, you couldn’t believe how she had penetrated the target all the way to the fletching. A carbon arrow was about two feet long, and the steel arrows was just about three quarters of that. You shudder.

You finished taking the arrows out and turned to go back to the firing point. You didn’t mind walking the distance, even if it made your ankle sore. The moon was slowly rising up behind you, like your cat that used to stalk your feet every time you walk past the living room. Archer was adjusting the sight on her bow, which you had no idea how considering how she had no fingers, and looked up when you came back.

“I think we should just call it a night. We’ve probably had enough training for today.”

You nodded, not wanting to argue. She went over to a shed nearby and stowed the bows and the arrows, carefully separating them so as not to cause confusion for the next practice. You yawned, and stretched out a bit as she closed the shed door. She nodded, and the two of you head back into her house, where she had offered you to stay in since you had nowhere to go. You sit down on her couch, and crack your stiff neck.

“Hey Archer, can you get me a glass of water?”

She nodded, and left for the kitchen. How long am I going to have to stay here? You weren’t even clear as to how you got here in the first place. One moment you’re crawling away from attempt on your life, and the next you’re in hospital. You sighed, worrying on whether or not you will ever get to leave Equestria.

Archer came back with a mug of cold chrysanthemum tea, which, though not what you wanted, was a great thing for her to do for you. Not only were you bumming in, she was also catering to your extra demands. You aren’t sure whether or not you should feel bad.

She sets the mug on the glass coffee table and nods at you.

“You’re going to have to sleep on the couch. I mean, there aren’t any extra bedrooms or guest bedrooms for you to use, so I hope you’re fine with the living room couch.” She said.

You knew this was going to be the case from the start, so you just nodded. She smiled, and turned off the lights. Archer trotted up the stairs, and you could hear the sound of her door closing shut.

You decide that it really should be time to sleep and finish up the cold tea on the coffee table. It tasted sweet, despite only having several little chrysanthemums inside the mug of cold tea. You wonder if there was any sugar, but dismissed it when you realized that without sugar, there wouldn’t be the cake that everypony seems to have. You chuckled, and lay down on the sofa. You stare up at the ceiling, wondering how the week is going to go.

The next few days went by in a blur as slowly, but surely, the two of you made the best of improvements as the days before the tournament get shorter. Three days before the tournament, you and Archer were training in the morning and were just warming up with a few shots when Archer scored a bullseye. This was not really that surprising considering her skills, but her second arrow broke the ice for the both of us.

A pony like her, who probably had half or three quarters of your strength, fired an arrow strong enough to split another arrow in half. You really couldn’t bring your jaw up for the best of five minutes, thinking over the probabilities of an arrow splitting another arrow clean through the middle, moreover when it was a steel arrow splitting another one. More often than not, you’d wonder if such a scenario was possible. She had just proven it right in front of your very eyes. You were stuttering words like you had when you first woke up in the hospital.

She squealed with delight. Before you could finish processing what I had just seen, she had dropped her bow and threw her hooves around you, still squealing with glee. It’s weird getting a hug from a pony. The feeling of another warm being against your body, for some reason made you feel happy and good at the same time.

But just as soon as the hug had begun, it stopped. She let go, and turned back towards her befallen bow, trying her best to conceal the furious blush surfacing on her all across her face. You chuckled silently as she picked her bow up, but you could see her hoof trembling as she tried to steady her aim. It was a rather adorable thing to see, a pony like her blushing while trying hard to focus on something even though she had done something embarrassing.

“I understand you’re happy with your achievement now, but take it easy. The tournament’s not started yet.” You said.

Somewhat at ease, she loosened a bit, and her hoof stopped trembling. She pulled the bowstring back, and made sure the nock was in the nocking point before she readjusted her aim. She took in a deep breath, and let go. The arrow was slightly off to the right of the split arrow, but nevertheless it was close enough to be considered yellow. She let out a sigh, and took another arrow from her holster before nock-ing it into place and firing. This process repeated for another two times before she finally ran out of arrows.

She put the arrow on its stand and sat on the soil behind her bow. It was your turn, and you had been training for several days already with Archer. You couldn’t let confidence get to you yet, because you know that whenever there’s a chance, confidence will become arrogance, and that will be the end. You nock-ed the arrow into the nocking point and pulled on the bowstring, You focus on the target which was, this time, a hundred metres. You closed your left eye and focused your right on the target. Mentally counting to four, you let go of the arrow with enough force to rip the tires off a car back in your world.

The arrow thundered down the field, and before you could drop your bow, the carbon arrow had struck the target, right between the split arrows and Archer’s last shot. It was in the yellow zone, which made you grin. Already getting close to a bullseye near the beginning now am I? You liked challenging yourself, as if the other you wasn’t sure if the other could do what he wanted.

It didn’t matter as you inserted another arrow into the nocking point.You took a deep breath and aim your bow. Pulling back on the bowstring, you count to four before you release the bowstring. Once more the arrow zipped through the hundred metres quickly and struck a red. You grunt. You fire five more, which all scatter near the red zone of the target. It wasn’t that good, but this was your first time at a hundred metres.

Archer got up and went over to take the arrows. The two of you would often take turns going out into the field to collect the arrows. It seemed fair, so you didn’t mind. You set your bow down on the stand and watched her go.

You had no idea how long this had been going on now, but every time Archer would go to take the arrows you found yourself staring after her figure as she trotted down the field. You weren’t sure why, but you just found her figure somewhat alluring. You only barely manage to glance away when she turns around and trots back. You grabbed a bottle of water from the table by the chairs and take a quick sip.

Archer didn’t take a break. She left your carbon arrows on the table and went back to firing more arrows. Since the chairs were a couple of metres back, though no difference from the hundred metre distance, it was a bit harder for you to see the arrows striking the target. At least you knew the arrows did strike the target, made obvious by the sounds of cardboard and hay being penetrated.

You found yourself looking at her figure again instead of her firing. The curves of her flank were like magnets for your eyes. You stared a bit too long, because when you were looking back at to see if she were firing anymore arrows, she was finished and was looking back at you. It was a look of confusion, which washed you with a wave of relief, rather than a look of anger. You put the arrows in your holster and go up to your stand to fire the last seven arrows of the day.