The Stable

My name is Farcry, and my mother’s name is Cotton Candy. She is a Steel Ranger.

Sorry to break it to you, but I have not yet been born. I just noticed something, I have a pip-buck, a device known to be worn by the Ponies in the Stables built just before the war. The war with the thrice damned Zebras, that is. I know nothing of it, and the war is long gone. Just not quite forgotten, considering what we did to the fair Equestria because of it. I will see this soon enough, trust me.

The buck appeared on my leg, just above my right fore-hoof, just as a Farsee had a dream including my mother. I don’t understand anything of this, and I am not about to pretend I do. I am still not born yet, remember.

What did my mother do to that poor foal, to deserve what is about to come next? I have no idea, and I will never understand how this was even possible. Even for the magic of a Unicorn. Not even a heard of thrice damned Zebras could even dream up the weaving of the spell required.

Then again, there is the pink mare of the Ministry of Morale. Pinkie Pie. Oh, yeah; MoM, or MuM. The cogs are turning, twisting the world even further out of shape. The irony.

Having a pip-buck is fun, when you have nothing better to do in here. I can do little more than move a hoof or turn my head.

The device is quite useful and practical, for a stable pony. Just that I am no stable pony. Well, maybe I am a pony, dwelling in a very different stable. I am alone. I am also bored.

When ponies complain about how small and cramped the space in their stable is, maybe they should have a day in my stable? Or, a stable just like it. Never joke about a small stable, or how restricted you feel; you have not lived in my stable, or my position. At least, I will open the gate, and leave soon. Just a month or two.

I am looking forwards, to the day when I am leaving this place. It is wet, and cramped, to the point of becoming bone crushing. Besides, I am alone, and lonely in here.

Operating a buck by hoof would have been problematic, thankfully it is not an issue for me. How or why, but it seems to react on my mood and thoughts. I can watch images of what is outside. I can also hear the radio, broadcast by any nearby station. Not all that many of them. The music sung by a Sweetie Belle has become a dear favorite of mine. I just hope my mother is not bothered by it.

I think it is time to bust out of here. I have had it, and now it is getting a bit too cramped for me. No idea, how long I have been here, but enough is enough.

I turn around, facing the world; looking for the exit, my exit. The entrance to the world outside. I break the seal, making myself known. She feels it, and is rushed into labour. There is nothing she could do about it, because I am coming out. Now.

There is a sharp, sudden cry, as I am pushing.

“Iiiiih!” she cries.

That was the first, and many more to come. She should have known it, it is how the mare delivers. A mare in labour will have to contend with the pains of pushing the foal out. In this case, me.

Even if I am the one initiating the labour, pushing forwards, to come out.

Minute by minute, I am pushing forwards; pushing myself forwards, outwards.

“Iiiih!” she cries out, each time I am pushing.

She probably had not been prepared for me, expecting me to wait for another week or two? Oh, well; too late for that, here I come.

I push my fore-hooves forwards, feeling myself being compressed as I am pushing forwards and outwards.

There is nothing to do about that, no point in regret. I want out, and I want out now.

Suddenly I feel my hooves slip out. I feel the opening, before I am pushed out. All the way out, all of a sudden.

I do not scream, and she is quiet.

“Oh, oh! That is much better!” I exclaim, in my tiny infant voice.

Strange, she is alone.

While I know every pony must have heard her cries, none had come to her rescue. At least, not yet.

Now, that is too late.

She turns around, looking towards me. I know she can se me, I am not in stealth mode, even if I had had that function for the buck in the first place. I had never been looking for it, why bother? I was already hidden within her womb at the time. Right now, I want her attention and I want her to see me.

While I am still soaking wet, I stand up and face her. I see my mother, looking back at me. I see the look in her eyes, but can’t quite put a hoof to what it is I am seeing. Aside from a mother’s love.

We are together, alone and in her private room. It is all I know, and all I need to know. I am safe, by her side.

“Mum!” I exclaim, feeling her by my side.

“Yes, I am here!” she coos in response.

“Maybe there is nothing more to say? Maybe she had not had the time to prepare anything more. Or, she can’t be expected to speak to me, as an adult Steel Ranger?

I don’t really need, or expect a speech. I just need to hear her voice, and feel she is loving me. I know she will protect me, if need be. As her daughter, and as a fellow Steel Ranger.

Ponies can say what they want, about us; but we stick together, and protect our own. Why should my mother be anything different?

“Wait, what?” she exclaims, taking a second look at me.

“Oh, yes; I guess it was inevitable, you would see my pip-buck?” I respond.

Then I just giggle at the silly in the situation.

“My Farcry, my own little Farcry!” she coos at me.

“You speak? How do you even know what the device is called or used for; let alone, having one above your hoof?” she points out, with scary uncertainty to her voice.

“Okay, how do I put this?” I respond; “I have had this; since it appeared, a while back!” I point out.

“It just appeared, out of nowhere? A pip-buck is far to delicate and precious, to just appear out of nowhere! Besides, they never made them for unborn fillies in the first place!” she points out.

“How I can speak? I am a Pony! Then again, I could but assume the buck has something to do with that!” I respond; pointing at the device, above my right fore-hoof.

“The Elders will go completely crazy, over this; if they were to learn of it!” she exclaims, in a hushed voice.

“Yes, I guess they will!” I point out, in response.

“Since you are not in a stable, protected by the impenetrable stable-tech gate; it is fortunate, that you are my foal and under my care!” she mumbles.

“Mum, your name is Cotton Candy?” I then inquire.

“Yes, that is my name” But, how did you know?” she inquires.

“I heard your name; when they address you! Aside from that my buck identifies you as Cotton Candy!” I respond.

“Does it identify everyone by name?” she inquires.

“Name, and rank!” I point out.

“There is no pony else here; we are alone, which I guess is good!” I offer.

“Then again, it is still the middle of the night!” I add, after a moment’s consideration.

“Smother thy mother!” I ponder; “I could never do that!” I continue.

“At least, I was not born in a full ranger’s power armour!” I mumble.

“Why does a pip-buck appear out of nowhere?” she ponders, quietly.

Of course, there is no response; maybe Pinkie Pie, the ministry mare is truly dead and gone? Either that, or she simply never had the time to foresee and post a response?

“On second thought; I don’t think I even want to know, that answer!” she then yelps in a hushed tone.

“While my body may be dead, but I am not gone any time soon!” Pinkie Pie’s voice scolds from the speaker of the Pip-buck.

“Okay, this will be giving me problems for ages to come!” my mother points out, in a very worried voice.

“I think I may be able to help you with that!” the voice responds, with a giggle.

“How is that, if your body is dead and buried?” my mother inquires.

“I was assassinated, but you have my persona in your daughters Pip-buck!” Pinkie’s voice points out, matter of fact.

There is an eerie, creepy air of amusement to the presence of what is passing for Pinkie Pie; the ministry mare who created the Ministry of Morale and so many other things, not known by the common pony or even Luna herself to a degree.

If the mare is dead, how could she then point out that she had been assassinated, at the end of the war? It does not add up, but still makes perfect sense, for the mare known as Pinkie Pie. Maybe this is the most scary part of this part of this story; this far, that is.

“You two need to go to be, you have a fresh and exciting day ahead of you!” Pinkie Pie points out, this time without as much as a hint of a giggle or amusement to her voice.

It’s no deadpan, but a clear and unmistakable order.

My mother manages to find a pile of pillows and a quilt for me to sleep on, lacking a proper bed.

I slowly enter the makeshift bed and slip in under a part of the quilt. As my head lay on the pillow, I fall asleep,

My mother slips into her bed and falls asleep. The day is at an end, for the both of us.

Pinkie Pie is quiet, hiding her presence in the room. Merely guarding the two of us, almost as if she had been our mother.

Then again; she is the ministry mare, the minister of morale. Guarding up, makes for better morale in the room. Every pony likes to know they are safe, when some pony is watching over them.