New Faces

It is almost annoying. Everything needs to be tested and learned anew before we can so much as touch it. The river is being watched as teacher does his work, and the fish within are treated like evil things.

Father allowed me to keep exploring with Eagle’s eye, though Rush was kept home by his mother. But he also said that we had to have our spears at all times.

Father’s spear is special. Big and long and old, wielded by his father, and his father’s father, and his father’s father’s father, and that father made it from special bone and wood. It never wears or breaks, and is really strong; I saw Father cut through a log with it once.

My spear was a child’s spear. Small, and weak, with a little tip and mostly used to stab rabbits. I was thirteen seasons old, and in two more, I could use an adult’s spear, but for now, I got the stupid little ones.

Father has forbidden me from scouting anymore. A ways past the sign, following the road, I saw a town. A human town, less than a day’s walk from us. He told the tribe to stay away from north altogether. And I can’t leave the tribe now.

I am currently hunting fish. If they are evil things, then less fish is good. If they turn out to be good, then I have a bunch of fish. I enjoy trying to spear them, and my shorter size makes it easier for me to get them than the other adults. I can duck lower than they can.

Then I hear a call from the camp, and hurry, to find out what had been found.

In the camp is a big tent, atop a wagon. I know wagons. Humans use them to carry lots of good things, like food, or cloths. They are stupid things though, hard to get into and demeaning to drag. A few warriors are emptying it of supplies.

I spot father speaking with Strong Arm, and near them are three foals about my size, tied to a post. One is a runt, less than half the size of the others, and I am fascinated.

They are so colorful, like flowers. Yellow, Pink, and Blue fur unlike anything I’ve ever seen on a horse. My fur is brown and tan, and father is a brown red, but the horses are so bright and colorful. And smooth too, as if someone brushed them recently.

I get along with horses. I head to them.

They are afraid, which is understandable. I wonder where the parents are. Shouldn’t the adult horses be tied to the wagon, or nearby in some way? But there is no adult horse nearby. Maybe the warriors let them run off, but why?

I reach into my pouch and draw out a carrot. They back away from me, and cower a little as I offer them it. Strange.

“Chosen!”

I jump a little at father’s yell, and look over.

“Get away from them.” he tells me.

“They are only foals father.” I say, backing away slightly.

“The one of them was pulling a loaded cart, and hurt one of the warriors because he thought it was only a foal. It is not, and the other two might not be either.”

I back away more, worried. They almost seem intimidating now. Something so colorful and small so strong? It gives this place a darker feel to it, something dangerous hiding under bright colors and small forms.

I listen to father, for now anyway. I want to tame them, get them nice. Normal horses can be strong too, these ones are just tiny. I just need to get them to calm down, and relax.

A few of the tribe are busy building a pen for them. I hurry over to help them.

Perspective, pony

It was a fine day in Equestria. It was almost always a fine day in Equestria, and if it was ever going to be bad, you generally had about a week’s notice.

“Good luck! Have fun!”

“We will!”

The sun was bright, and they day newly begun. A small family was preparing for a trip. Going to visit relatives to the south, taking the long path that was normally avoided. To see the sights and scenery, and get their daughter a good experience.

“Do we have everything?”

“Tools, food, supplies, extra supplies, camping equipment.”

“Sounds like everything.”

Good Growth, Fine Fur, and Gentle eyes, father, mother, and daughter respectively. Gentle was barely a filly and was excited and eager as Good finished loading the wagon, covered in case of unexpected rain.

“How soon?” she asked, bouncing around.

“A few weeks dear.” Fine told her, grabbing hold of her daughter before she could interrupt Good’s work.

“There.” Good sighed as he finished tying things down. “Everypony in.”

Fine and Gentle did so as Good got into the hitch. And then they were off, bidding goodbye to their friends that had come by to wave, and laughing as Pinkie followed them all the way to the edge of the town, calling out nigh endless variations on ‘I hope you have a good trip!’ and giving Gentle a cupcake.

The trip was well off, following an ill-used road. Destined for Trade Wind, one of the farther towns in Equestria. The trip would take weeks and possibly more; the southern way was barely used, and very, very little was between Ponyville and Trade Wind.

They kept going for a few hours, making it well into the plains before Good slowed, wondering.

“Is something wrong?” Fine asked, looking out of the wagon.

“Look ahead.” Good said, and Fine glanced up, and looked confused.

The sign that declared Ponyville just ahead had a big stick in it. With a bit of red cloth at the top, and a sharp point to keep it in the semi-rotten wood.

“…Maybe somepony wants to fix it.” Fine suggested as they reached it, Good hesitating.

“…That’s a spear.” he said, grabbing it and ripping it free. Fine frowned and Gentle poked her head free.

“What’s a spear?” Gentle asked as Good frowned at it.

“It’s something guards use to defend ponies Gentle.” Fine told her, smiling at her. Gentle nodded and went back, satisfied, and Fine glanced at Good.

“Maybe you should put it back?” she suggested, mildly concerned.

“Maybe somepony lost it? I don’t think this is a guard’s spear… it seems too big. Unwieldy almost.”

“Have you ever held a guard’s spear honey?”

“…Well… no. We should hold onto it. In case somepony lost it or something.”

“Not in here. I don’t want Gentle to hurt herself on it.”

“I have a better idea.” he said, and tossed it up, somehow getting it to stick upright on the wagon’s top. Like a flag of sorts.

Fine shifted to see it and giggled a bit. “It looks kind of funny up there.”

“Whimsical.” Good said, resuming motion.

“Maybe if it had more colors.”

“Want to make something for it?”

“Why not? Something to pass the time.”

Good smiled as Fine went back into the wagon. Sure, the spear seemed a bit odd, and why it was there was a mystery, but it didn’t look half bad up there. Like the wagon was a ship, and that was their flag, waving high above the plains, easily seen.

Good stopped after a while more, and got out of the hitch, setting the wagon’s brakes.

“Food ready?” he asked.

“Almost!” Fine called back. “You didn’t have to pack it quite so tightly!”

“Bumpy roads ahead honey! Just making sure nothing broke open.”

A pop was heard, and after a moment, Fine came out with a few apples. Gentle followed after her.

They sat together, eating their lunch. Looking out over the plains, and simply relaxing.

“Can I go play?”

“Sure. Stay nearby though.” Good said. “Make sure you can always see our flag.”

Gentle looked up and nodded, heading off.

She kept going, at her size, finding it a little hard to see in the tall grass, but always making sure she could see the spear and its red cloth. She brightened when she noted that she could see it from quite the distance; if she was taller, she bet she could see it for miles.

She reared up to see more, and looked around with a smile. Then she paused.

Dark shapes nearby. Against the sun, making them hard to see, but they were there and… heading closer?

She squinted to see them, and made out a few details.

They looked a little like ponies. Hooves, four legs, fur, even if said fur was in shades of dirt. But their heads were replaced by… something else.

Her eyes widened a bit, and she went back down and headed back, a touch worried. They looked really big, and she didn’t especially like the look of them. Best to get back to her parents.

She made it back, Fine and Good calm and not having seen anything.

“Mommy! Daddy!” Gentle cried, running to them.

“Gentle?”

“I saw things!” she said, pointing behind her.

Good and Fine looked up to hesitate, seeing the shapes as well. More able to describe the sight, but still not knowing what the creatures were.

Lower half of a pony, and head replaced with the torso of a minotaur, if said minotaur was shaved. A tuft of extra hair on the very top of their heads, with faces that were flat and slightly alien.

Fine moved Gentle behind her and Good stood up, frowning at them.

“…Good…”

“Stay still.” he muttered as they came close. A few stared at them, and the others looked at the wagon. Tiny eyes observing them.

Good noted that each carried a spear.

Spears almost identical to the one on top of their wagon right now.

Two went around the wagon, to peer within from a safe distance. Seemingly expressionless, and having spears ready. Good tried to keep an eye on them as the others looked at the exploring pair.

Then one approached the group, taking out a length of rope, and making an odd whistle sound.

Good didn’t give it a chance, and turned around and bucked it. It reared back, being surprisingly heavy and solid, and the others shouted ugly growls and guttural sounds.

Good never had much of a chance. He was soon well tied, and Fine and Gentle, both terrified and holding still, received a rope collar and leash. Two centaur controlled Good, who struggled, as the others brought Fine and Gentle and the wagon with them, heading into the plains.

Good eventually stopped struggling. Every time he did, it was mostly useless and he kept getting dragged.

“What should we do?” Fine whispered to him, trying to keep Gentle calm.

“…I don’t know.” he admitted “I don’t know.” She drooped a bit before turning back to keep up a brave face for Gentle.

The creatures kept going for some ways until a camp came into view, with many, many more of them. One of those dragging the wagon gave off some kind of scream, and others headed over.

They begins looting the wagon, but Good and Fine didn’t care. From a distance, the tents they had resembled cloth.

Up close, they could see stitches, and a slightly fuzzy look to the tents, minor stains visible.

Skin. The creatures lived in tents made from skin. Both of them gave some thanks that Gentle somehow didn’t know, and tried to stay calm. They found it hard.

What if their fate was to be a tent?

One of the creatures headed over, a smaller one, just a bit bigger than they were counting his back alone. They backed away from it, Fine hiding behind Good.

It offered a carrot, and he stared at it, sure that it was some kind of trap.

Then a fierce yell jolted them all, and an even bigger one of the creatures headed over, growling and making horrible noises. The smaller did the same at a slightly different pitch, and then headed away, looking back.

“…Dear,”

“I know.” Good said, trying to keep all of them in his line of sight at the same time. “But we’ll be fine. Just fine.”

Fine didn’t believe him.

“I don’t like the rope mommy.”

“I know dear, but just be brave for mommy, O.K? Listen to me and daddy, really, really well.”

Gentle nodded, her eyes large, and concerned, but Fine and Good managed to smile enough for her to remain semi-calm. She just told herself that it was like the dentist; you didn’t like it, it was scary and smelled weird, but it was meant to help. Somehow.

Ending up in a large pen like an animal was not very high on Good’s list of things he wanted to have happen. But it was a relieving thing to have happen; it implied that they weren’t going to be killed.

At least not right then.

The sun had set, and Fine was trying to get Gentle to sleep on the grass as Good paced the perimeter of the pen. It was located in the middle of the camp, and fairly well made; breaking it would be difficult and attract attention. And even if he did, they would have to run past the whole group, a number of which seemed to wake up only at night.

And Good knew that he was really bad at running, and that Gentle wouldn’t make it a dozen feet before she was caught. Not to mention the uncertainty of upsetting the beings, and how they might react.

He sighed, and went back to his wife, Gentle finally asleep.

Fine looked at him, fear and worry written on her face.

“I don’t see any way out.” Good whispered. “They have guards everywhere.”

Fine nodded sadly. “Are we trapped here? For how long, and for why?” she asked.

“…For the time being.” Good said. “Until somepony comes looking for us. Which won’t take too long.” he said, trying to see some ray of hope.

“Darling… this visit was supposed to be a surprise, remember?”

Good froze.

“And everypony in Ponyville won’t even suspect anything for months at the least.” Fine continued, a building despair evident in her voice. “While we stay here. With the… tents.”

She sniffled. “What’s going to happen to us?” she whispered, any kind of hope missing from her tone.

Good couldn’t find a way to respond. She was right. Their relatives had no idea they were coming, their friends in Ponyville were well aware that their trip would take weeks. Good had specified that. Several times.

Nopony would have the faintest idea that something was wrong for months. It would be winter coming on spring before somepony began wondering what was taking them. Longer than that before anypony got the idea that something might be wrong.

Nopony was going to come. They were stuck. Trapped. Imprisoned. With creatures who made homes from skin, and made horrible sounds.

Fine was keeping in her own sobs, for Gentle’s sake. Good simply laid next to her, and the pair leaned on one another. Good not really seeing anything, and Fine crying in silence.