Dungeon Crawling and Coffee Brewing

The first thing Sam noticed as he came to he woke was a feeling like a train running through his head. He slowly opened his eyes only to snap them shut as a bright light flooded his view.

“Why am I outside?” He mumbled as he slowly opened his eyes. He slowly became aware of how hot the sun felt on his skin. Rolling over onto his stomach so his head wasn’t facing the sky he noticed the sun seemed to be in the middle of the sky. “Noon and, Argh my head, What did I drink last night?”

Wait a minute. Had he even been drinking? No, it was the middle of the week and he had work the next morning. He had just gone to the drive-thru for a quick bite after realizing he had nothing at home. Then it started to rain on his way back, and oh god had he crashed his car. Bolting upright he looked for a pile of twisted steel wreckage only to find none. He was in a completely empty field. Not but grass and wildflowers were anywhere in sight.

This was rather strange seeing as how Sam didn't even live near a field like this. It should have been thickets of trees or a yard with someone's house in it. He bolted to his feet and tried to walk. Only to immediately lose his balance and fall forward, instinctively raising his arms to catch himself. That was when he noticed the lack of hands, on his fuzzy navy colored arms. His brain tried to process this fact.

He had fuzzy blue forelegs ending in a black, or no it was actually just really dark gray, hooves. He thought about what this could be. His mouth, being a good two steps ahead of his brain by now, reacted much quicker.

“What the actual hay!?” Sam yelled at the top of his lungs. Wait hay? “Hay, buck, Horse Apples!”

What the hell. Oh hey, he could swear in his head still, but apparently not out of his mouth.

…

Well that was, strange. On the bright side, that little oddity seemed to have brought him out of his shock. Yay. Sam started to inspect his body. Craning his neck he found that he now had a navy furred horse torso where his pink, mostly hairless human torso should have been. Sticking off of his butt was a long tail, a few shades of gray lighter than the hooves he had where his hands should have been. The tail was curled and poofy, looking a little like a storm cloud. On his sides were a pair of feathery wings, okay he wasn’t a zoologist or anything but he was pretty sure birds didn’t have four legs with hooves, and he was equally certain no ungulates had wings. But somehow the wings and navy fur were not the weirdest part of his anatomy.

No that went to the drawing on his sides, butt, whatever that part of his body was called. It looked like an X drawn by using a rolled-up scroll as one line and a lightning bolt for the other. The bright white and yellow being rather obvious the way they clashed against his overall darker colored body.

“Alright, what the hay was in that burger?" He wondered aloud, more to fill the silence than anything.

No, he could handle this. Stay calm, stay calm. He took a few slow deep breaths while counting backward from ten. It didn't bother him, It didn't bother him.

…

It bothered him! It bothered him a lot! How? What? Why? How?

"Why in the Tartarus am I a blue horse!?" Sam yelled so loud that a flock of birds he hadn't even noticed before scattered past him. One whipping right into his face and leaving him sputtering a cloud of feathers. He shook his head rapidly to get the bird's molt off his face. The bird in question which had crashed at his hooves, god that was going to take getting used to, gave him a sheepish look. How a bird's eyes did that without a movable brow was a question for another day.

“Okay calm down," Sam ordered himself. "The first rule of wilderness survival is to not panic, now situation, I'm alone in the middle of the wilderness with no idea where civilization is, I have somehow become a winged blue horse, well haven't seen my head could be a deer, and I'm without food or water. The situation looks really bleak."

Well, that was depressing. No focus. "Okay just gotta find a water source. Civilization is usually built near flowing water so if I can find a river or something, that will be my best chance at finding my way to a populated area."

The bird flew back up into his face. He almost swatted at it out of reflex but before he could it grabbed his hair, also gray and poofy, and pulled him. What was it doing? As if in answer of his silent query the bird curled it’s feathers like fingers, again pretty sure birds shouldn’t be able to do that, and pointed in the direction it was pulling. Completely lacking in any other options Sam hazarded a guess,

“You want me to follow you?”

The bird nodded in confirmation. Okay following a bird that was honestly two expressive and intelligent, in a direction that could be exactly the wrong way, while possibly drugged and alone in the woods somewhere. Welp, it was crazy but it wasn't like he had any better options. Besides a pleasant stroll through nature could be just what the doctor ordered.

-/-

“Nature can take a flying leap off a cliff!” Sam shouted at the babbling brook.

Seriously, he had run into problems right out the gate. First, off it turns out walking with four legs when you're used to using two meant actively thinking about the order in which he had to move his legs. Which in turn led to tripping over his own feet when he stopped focusing on that long enough to make sure he hadn't lost his guide. Then he had gotten the absolutely brilliant idea of trying out those wings. Because hey, not like flying could be harder than walking right? He had spent the next fifteen minutes having very awkward introductions to the ground, mostly face first. Eventually, he had gotten walking down to the point that he could mostly travel in a straight line without tripping over his own feet automatically.

That was when his new bird friend, currently dubbed pidgey for convenience, had led him into the forest. He then had to master turning. Which had led him to him avoiding one tree only to stumble into another, dodge a gopher hole only to trip into a thorn bush, or climb a small hill only to have to slide down, chafing his backside raw along the way, because he couldn’t properly balance with his backside higher up than his head. But that wasn’t the worst part oh no, that esteemed title went to the bugs. Flies, midges, gnats, and mosquitoes, and only a fluffy tail for defense against the tiny vampiric hordes. At least only a tail after he realized that swatting an insect with a hoof was going to get him something far worse than mere itching. And now after hours of plunging through this nightmare all he had to show for it was a small stream that would lead him to a larger stream that might, possibly, if he was lucky, lead him to a populated area, before exhaustion, illness, or a bear got him. So yeah. Fuck Nature.

Well, might as well take a drink. Wait, no. Considering his luck so far this water was probably contaminated, better check. He peered into the flowing stream, alright it was moving so that was a good start. The problem now was that it was really clear, almost to clear, like there's arsenic flowing out of a mine upstream killing all the fish and algae and what not clear. He turned to Pidgey. The bird preened himself apparently having decided that his work here was done.

A splash to the side caught his attention, a fish had just jumped. That meant something could live in this water. Which meant someone could live on this water. First good new he'd had all day. Plunging his face into the cool stream he drank deeply like a man who had just wandered out of the desert into the land of plenty. He hadn’t actually realized just how dry his throat had been up till this point. Now though, it almost felt like it would actually crack from the sudden reintroduction of liquid. He guzzled until the growling in his belly quieted only to be replaced by the gentle sloshing of his overly filled stomach. He might get dysentery for that rash decision but right then and there he couldn’t imagine regretting it.

With his thirst quenched and his a newly restored sense of optimism, he felt like he could take on the world. But first thing first. How to get down this river without more godforsaken walking. Seriously his legs felt like they were on fire, that was in an oven, that had been dumped into an active volcano, on the sun. Hmm well, he was going to follow the current maybe he could try swimming. He stuck a single leg into the flowing water. It felt like submerging into ice, goosebumps cover his leg and he stumbles back falling squarely on his rump.

On second thought sitting in the water for a long period of time might get him sick, or just cause him to drown if he fell asleep. Maybe there was a better idea. He looked around the immediate area, a couple of fallen logs a few vines. Yes, he could work with this.

Several hours, three failed attempts, and a very long bathroom break latter he had managed to successfully bind five logs together to make a crude raft. Doing it with his mouth had been difficult but around the second attempt, he found he could use his wings like clumsy hands to hold the logs in place.

“I hereby christen thee the Polished Turd.” Sam declared smacking the raft with a pine cone in loo of a champagne bottle. He had heard somewhere it was bad luck to sail a nameless ship, and with the day he was having he decided it was better not to chance it by refusing to do something so easy. He picked up a long sturdy branch that he had singled out for steering in his teeth and hopped aboard the mediocre at best vessel. Placing the branch down he bowed to the bird and said. “Pidgey thank you for all your help.”

The bird saluted.

"Now I must away on my this my proud vessel's maiden voyage. Wish me luck and fare thee well." Sam said picking the stick back up and trying to ignore the possibility that stress was driving him insane. With a little help from his wings, he pushed off on his journey into the great unknown.

-/-

The night didn't so much fall as it just kind of happened. Like one minute it was practically noon the next bam dead of night. This while strange was not what took up most of Sam's attention, however.

"Well, horse apples. Do I land and make camp for the night risking sleeping alone and unprotected in the woods, or take my chances sailing in the dark?" Sam asked aloud. He had taken to talking to himself over the course of the journey if only to break the monotonous silence. Well, the moon was full so it was pretty bright. So he should be fine as long as he paid careful attention right.

Sam picked up his stick and steered towards the center of the river. He settled into a comfortable seated position, sitting with his sides facing the front and back of the raft with his back to the starboard. Then stick in mouth drifted with the current. His raft approached where his smaller river came to meet a larger body of water. As he did so a wall of bright light like the noonday sun became visible in the distance. He recognized it instantly as a city. With victory on the horizon and a renewed vigor, he placed the stick upon his raft. Turning his back to his destination he raised his wings behind him and flapped as hard as he could. Using the wind to propel him faster towards the shining beacon of hope.

After what felt like hours, but couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes, he finally pulled close enough that he could make out his location. It had a great bridge spanning the massive river he had drifted into. The skyline was bright even in the dead of night like the rising of the sun at the end of a movie, signifying the end of the hero's journey. Even the smell coming off the water was subtly different. The smell of dirty city water had never smelled so good in his life. The sheer joy of seeing civilization after being lost in the woods was even enough to make him forget the burning in his wings. What it didn’t hide was the blinding light from the side.

“All right whose ruining.” He petered off as he turned to see a trash barge coming right at him. What couldn’t they see… his tiny lightless raft in the middle of this dark water. Shit, shit, shit!

Sam turned quickly desperate to get another burst of wind going, losing his balance and falling to his side. A loud foghorn went off and he saw the barge all but on top of him. With a desperate last push, he forced his one free wing to flap as hard as he could. The force of the wind off his desperate flapping propelled him forward, his breath coming in gasps and pants as he pushed himself harder than he thought possible.

The sound of wood scraping against metal set a chill down his spine. He looked at the barge afraid of what he might see. The large boat, was just beneath his raft only just making contact. Sam closed his eyes let out a sigh of relief and then felt his raft rock. His eyes snapped back open to see the bottom of his raft now higher than he was. A wave in the wake of the much larger boats passing. Sam felt as though his legs had been plunged into ice. His stomach lurched as the raft flipped over dropping him beneath the cold waves. He gasped desperately only to cough and sputter as his lungs filled with icy water. The raft which had brought him now blocking the light above him. The current fought to drag him down even as he wildly flailed his limbs in a desperate attempt to surface. His limbs felt like lead, his head felt fuzzy, and the edges of his vision started to go dark.

So this was it. This was how it all ended. Drowning after falling off a raft mere minutes from civilization.

…

Horse shit! His wings burned and fought him as he forced them through the water. He strained his eyes to find the brightest light he could still make out. The massive feathers dragged as he aimed for the surface. The current pushing him ever downwards into the icy, black depths. Then with all the strength, he could muster he flapped. The force propelled him forwards but not enough to reach the surface. He started to descend again even as he fought the current to bring his wings forth once more. His vision continued to darken but he had what he needed. A single pinprick of light.

He forced his burning muscles to push himself further and further. Gaining on the surface with each stroke. His lungs burned for air, and his wings felt like they were about to snap clean off. With a final all or nothing push he burst free from the chilled waters below. The sheer force of his last desperate attempt had launched him into the air. With his feathers soaked through there was no way to control his fall, or even slow himself. If he landed back in the water that was it. He wouldn’t have the strength to pull this off again.

He felt the wind whipping at his drenched form as he rocketed through the air. He eyes unable to make out any details as the lack of oxygen finally started to overtake him. He was vaguely aware of the feeling of coughing and something liquid coming out of his mouth. He lay back and gazed up to a dark silhouette the last thing he saw before blacking out.