Ridley Me This

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The night air was more refreshing than anything else she had ever tasted.

Ridley breathed in deeply of the cool late evening wind, grin on her lips as she sighed and stretched. Her foreleg was sore and she was limping, but she didn't care. She was out. She was free. She didn't know just how badly she wanted something until it was taken away. She looked back to the burial grounds, her eyes quickly adjusting to the bright moonlight.

What was once a gaudily decorated tomb was now a demolished ruin of rubble and stone. Ridley cringed internally at the sight. It used to be a place of calm, of healing and recuperation, and now it was just... wreckage. Grass and vines grew up around the sides of the partially buried tomb, the little hole she had squeezed out of already filling itself in with loose soil. Ridley frowned at the sight, her worry slowly growing in her chest. Mother was supposed to have been here by now, surely. The 'clearing' was no longer such a thing. Thick, heavy forest surrounded Ridley on all sides, enormous looming trees that bowed over and almost seemed to watch her as she slipped from shadow to shadow. They almost reminded her of her mother's stone gargoyles lining their property like silent sentries. Those had been comfortable.

This was just creepy.

Ridley called out to no avail, her voice feeling once more stifled by the thick woods. She bit her bottom lip and blew the mane from her face in agitation, carrying on in hopes that her memory would not betray her. But surely any direction was better than just sitting around and doing nothing. She had to keep going, no matter how tired she was. Her foreleg ached terribly, but it was already beginning to heal, albeit very slowly. She was so hungry, she just needed a little bite.

The woods seemed to stretch on forever and ever, and though she could easily trot on at an even pace, she decided against it. She could hear the chirrup of a few nighttime birds, the swooping of bats. All manner of creatures were hunting tonight. She might as well join them. Even if it wasn't prime feasting, something was better than nothing. Just a quick peek through the underbrush revealed tracks, and a smile tugged at her cracked lips. The markings were fresh, thankfully. She could follow them easily, outmatching the original pace of the unfortunate soul that had left the tracks. She would find her prey, no matter how long it took.

Ridley took in a few steady breaths as she slid along the shadows beneath the trees. It was more out of practice than anything. She didn't even need to breathe, but it made her feel better. Baser instincts could be very powerful, and she felt silly for falling victim to silly habits. She had to stay focused. Ridley stilled to the point that should anypony pass they would see no more movement amongst the trees than the wind blowing loosely through the branches. She was silent, she was still as the grave. All she had to do was wait.

A couple of squirrels skittered through the bushes nearby, and her head slowly, quietly swiveled in their direction as she caught sight of them. One of them was digging a hole and the other was pushing berries. They didn't even see her coming-

A twig snapped from her hoofstep, and both the squirrels darted away immediately. Ridley swore loudly and kicked a tree, only serving to irritate her further. It hardly left a print on the bark, the indent only a measure of how weak she had grown. She was weary, worn out, and dammit all if she wasn't hungry. It looked like she would have to be hungry for a while longer. She needed to feed, now. Hunting wild critters like one of the baser creatures was pointless. Ridley didn't care how long it took, she would find a proper meal tonight. Her temper was hot and her veins ran cold.

One way or another, somepony was going to bleed.

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The night air was cool and fresh, blowing gently on Cheerilee's face and throwing the mane from her eyes. She could hear crickets and frogs from her place just on the edge of Ponyville, but she was deaf to them by this point. She stared in shock, her teacup trembling in her hoof as the stallion looked away from her. He backed away off the front porch, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, it's... it's not gonna work,” he mumbled, looking away from her.

“But-but- was it something I did?” Cheerilee's legs felt like giving out. “Chadley, we-we can still f-fix this... I-”

“Yeah, like, sorry n' stuff,” the tan stallion shrugged with a light frown. “But honestly, you're not getting' any younger, and also you're kinda getting fat. Like, you put on weight and stuff. So... y'know.”

The stallion shrugged again and stepped off her front porch completely.

“Laters I guess,” he turned without looking back, utterly unfazed by the tears streaming down her cheeks. Cheerilee threw her teacup into the sink and watched it crack. She didn't care. The front door was still open and blowing in cool air, but it felt too hot inside anyway. Her cheeks were burning, her throat felt tighter with every dry sob. Stallions were so fucking worthless. Her trembling hooves grasped the wine bottle as she dropped into the kitchen chair, chugging heavily. It soothed and burned her throat at the same time, but she didn't care about that either. She just drank and drank until the heartache began to soothe. It didn't, of course. But it was a nice thought.

Cheerilee gasped for air as she pulled the ivory bottle away from her lips, sputtering and wiping her mouth with her foreleg. Celestia, what was she even doing? It didn't matter if it was a weekend, she had papers to grade. But of course, maybe that was just one of the reasons that she kept losing stallions left and right. She always put her work first, no matter how much it drained her. And she certainly felt drained as it were. She muttered miserably to herself as she pushed the smokestack bottle back and forth across the table, imagining drowning herself in the crimson liquid and never having to face the next day again. Cheerilee really should have been expecting this. Chadley had been dropping hints all day. But then again, he wasn't really all that fantastic himself. But what was she supposed to do? She was getting older. Her options were steadily dwindling. Maybe she was just doomed to be alone forever. She wouldn't doubt it.

Cheerilee took another long look at the ivory bottle before shrugging. She tended to get awfully cynical when she was drunk. Was she drunk? It felt like it. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. She dug around in the cabinets until she could find the painkillers before popping a couple in her mouth and washing them down. It was so hard to just keep going, didn't anypony care anymore? Maybe it was just young stallions that were pricks. Only focused on one thing, they didn't really care. There was no point. There was no point to anything-

Okay, Cheerilee. Think this through. You are drunk. You aren't thinking clearly. Be a grown up, it's not that hard. Just get it together.

She stood woozily and splashed some cold water on her face from the sink, sighing again. She felt a light breeze and dimly recognized that the front door was still open. She peered out into the bright moonlight and let out a wary breath. Her now ex was long gone. Maybe that was fine. She had plenty of things that she wanted to say to him that weren't very nice, so maybe it was for the best that he wasn't around. She shook her head, pushing the mane from her eyes. She needed to sober up. She shrugged and started to close the front door behind her. Perhaps a nice nighttime walk would help her clear her muddled head. Cheerilee turned around and yelped when she saw the ragged figure before her.

A gaunt, thin, sickly looking mare with matted black mane hanging over her eyes stood before her in tattered, dirty red cloths. The peach colored mare had glistening eyes that peered out brightly from behind her thick bangs, a quiet little smile on her thin lips.

“... Hello?” Cheerilee's voice came out much quieter than she intended.

“Salutations friend,”the skeletal thin mare said in a wispy, ethereal tone. “I am but a weary traveler looking for a place to recuperate. Might I come in?”

“S-sorry,” she shook her head, not caring that her mane was falling in her eyes. She brushed the hairs from her face and glanced over at the sickly thin mare, and even though she hadn't seen her move she could have sworn that she was just a little bit closer. There was something in her black eyes that belied a deep, longing... hunger. Like that of a timber wolf. Cheerilee shivered slightly as her rational mind began to kick in. She was being silly. It was just a weary mare asking for help.

“Why don't we go inside out of the cold?” the mare asked quietly, and it sounded like such a lovely idea. Or maybe the alcohol was clouding her judgment. The mare didn't even seem to be bothered by the night chill, not shivering or shaking at all. In fact, she was completely still, like a statue that happened to speak. It was slightly unnerving, and Cheerilee had difficulty shaking it off.

“You know what, it's fine,” she shrugged at last, holding open the front door for her new guest. “Come on inside, miss. Nopony should have to be out on a cold night like this.”

“How very right you are...” the black maned mare crossed the threshold with a lilt in her voice, her lips parting just a little to reveal a gleaming white smile. “Why, it could be downright dangerous for a mare on nights like this.”

Cheerilee could have sworn that she saw a smirk on the mare's face for just a moment, but it was gone the next. She shook her head fiercely. The wine was strong and it was getting to her was all.

“I apologize about the mess,” Cheerilee shrugged a hoof toward the living room littered with half graded papers, somewhat embarrassed.

“Do not worry at all, young one...” the thin mare looked around the place with glistening eyes, the quiet little smile still on her lips.

“Oh, you don't have to be a flatterer,” she snorted, gesturing for the new mare to follow her to the kitchen. “My name is Cheerilee by the way, it's very nice to meet you, miss...?”

“Ridley,” the mare responded almost silently, Cheerilee's ears perking up just to hear her.

“Ridley...?” Cheerilee motioned with one hoof for her to continue.

“Just Ridley,” the black maned mare brushed a hoof over the countertop, inspecting the bottom of her hoof as if checking for dust. “My, what a lovely home you have. So very quaint. Small, yet practical.”

Cheerilee was steadily growing more uncomfortable with every passing moment, uncertain of her new guest. Ridley passed around the kitchen absolutely silently as if sound were afraid to emanate from her.

“... Tell me,” Ridley asked as she stopped before Cheerilee, reaching out to the table and tilting the ivory bottle with the tip of her hoof. “Cheerilee. Do you... enjoy living?”

Cheerilee's concern suddenly flared into full blown panic.

“Excuse you?” she took a step backwards into the countertop. Just what had she gotten herself into...?

“You don't have to be afraid, you know...” Ridley's voice was like honey on her ears, soft and gentle as she glided across the floor. She reached out a hoof and gently brushed the mane from Cheerilee's face, locking eyes with the blushing mare. “Just listen to me for a bit, that's all I ask. Might I... trouble you for a bite?”

Cheerilee didn't answer at all. She just stared at Ridley, unable to quite accept what was happening. Her lips parted to reveal a pair of needle sharp fangs, and Cheerilee felt her limbs turn to jelly. She couldn't move away from that piercing, empty, hungry stare. Maybe it was the weariness of the evening. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was some kind of bizarre mind trick that she was unaware of, but Cheerilee didn't even notice much as her jugular was punctured, still staring blankly ahead as she steadily grew colder.

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Ridley was conflicted.

It wasn't anything hard. In fact, it was pathetically simple. Her mother would have just laughed her off should she ask. But mother wasn't around to ask for advice, leaving Ridley to fend for herself. And she was asking a question that had never occurred to her before.

Why didn't she simply drain the mare completely and leave?

It would be so easy. Cheerilee hadn't even put up a fight, it was just pathetic. She was like putty in her hooves. And she had fed, stars and stones she had finally fed and it was orgasmically delicious.

And yet, she couldn't quite shake that strange feeling in her chest that took so long to identify. Was it... some kind of guilt? Ridley didn't understand. Perhaps she was just a little loopy for being locked away for so long. That was the only reason she hadn't drained the mare completely. She most certainly was not getting sentimental. Mother would never let her live it down. Besides, if she kept the mare around and let her recuperate she could have another meal fresh and ready. That was all.

Ridley still couldn't shake the feeling.

She stood by the bedside the entire night, drawing the bedroom curtains tightly closed as the morning sun began to rise. Ridley yawned and drew up a chair beside the bed, glancing over at the hastily patched neck wound. A little bit of blood was still leaking through, and she couldn't help but lick her lips. She was full as it was, and stars help her she was tempted for just a little more. But that would likely be the end of the first pony she had even seen in so long, and she really didn't want a Ridley Three on her hooves. She needed somepony that would listen to her. Somepony that would talk back.

“Shade help me I am so getting sentimental,” Ridely groaned as she rubbed her temples. She was so weary, so very exhausted. She was full for the first time in what felt like eons, so satisfied. She dropped into the wooden chair beside the bed and let out a heavy sigh, crossing her hooves over her chest. She wouldn't sleep, she knew that. But Cheerilee would. Cheerilee could have all the rest that she desired.

Ridley could wait.

Ridley was very, very patient.

And yet, that same little panicky feeling in her chest desperately wanted to shake the slumbering mare awake just to make sure that she was still alive. To check that she was still breathing, still okay.

Ridley hated that feeling more than anything.

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