Phantoms

"Phantom pain". You'd think that knowing it isn't there helps. Mind over matter and the sort. Thing is, how do you treat a wound that doesn't exist?

I honestly can't remember how many nights I'd spend curled up, clenching my teeth, hugging my pillow, wishing it would go away. It's pretty rare for a pony to be born without a limb but still feel it--but it happens. There's not a lot doctors can do. They were pulling out some really sketchy stuff by the end--literal smoke-and-mirrors treatments. I skipped it. I couldn't tell you how seeing my leg in a mirror would help.

When I woke up the next morning, it was a little after 9:30am. I had hoped to be up by 7 AM so I could get as much out of the day as I could. Not that it mattered, since the monsoon had turned the road into a river.

My 'leg' was still hurting, but I was managing the pain pretty well. That was my usual strategy; grit my teeth and bear it. I had tried painkillers, but they didn't really work--I'd always just go back to hurting in a few hours, and I'd need even more pills to get it to go away. When the doctor heard how many I'd taken, he almost had a heart attack.

When the aftermath of the monsoon subsided, I finally got to leave the apartment. The street was still wet, more mud than road really, but you could at least walk instead of swim. The numerous vendors were coming back out--dragging carts on wheels, filled with everything from rice and curry to local charms. I saw plenty of the talismans the pamphlet mentioned. Most had a snake on them, I guess it was a popular warding charm or something.

There were also cows. A lot of cows. It should go without saying, but Bovindia is the bovine capital of the world. It felt like I was a little filly again, just because of how big they were--something you don't really notice until you see a packed street. There were some yaks, too--I couldn’t exactly tell who was who and I was too nervous to ask for their names a third time. Oh, but the male yaks wore these turbans--the patterns and colors were so vivid. I kind of wish my folks had sent me to Yakyakistan instead, I was already itching to ask where they got the dyes from.

My budget didn't have room for another trip, though, so I settled for wandering the town. I must've heard every sales pitch in the book and then some. Good luck charms, wards against the monster in the woods, spices and herbs I'd never get anywhere else...I gotta admit, for a minute there I was really tempted by some of the fabric these guys were selling. If it hadn’t been for some old stallion giving me a warning I might not have caught on. This was a tourist trap; every salesmare for miles around was gonna claim to be the best weaver in the country. Funny thing is, none of the cows were selling anything--only the ponies were. Turns out, cows are kind of a special group over there. They're all supposed to become monks and priests and stuff.

Soon as I figured that out, I had my plan. I was gonna ask every cow I met about what they do in the woods. Pretty soon, I learned that nobody was interested. The altars were all wrecked, and nobody was willing to build a new one. Every wedding had been called off, all of the sacrifices were cancelled, and everyone was just gonna go home and meditate.

It took me hours to find the one cow in the entire town who was willing to actually do it.

"Why do I get the feeling it was Ramooh?"

"Whoa, impressive. How’d you know?" Kerfuffle tilted her head.

"He was here when the rakshasa attacked."

"I thought I saw him! Never thought he'd actually take me up on that offer."

The waitress stepped up to the table again, raising an eyebrow in silence. Kerfuffle shooed her away, and she ambled off to take some old couple's order.

"What offer?" Sunny asked.

"To come live in Equestria!" Kerfuffle said. "He always said he didn't feel at home. I figured, maybe he needed a change of scenery. Is he still here? I’d love to catch up with him!"

"He left for Canterlot after the incident," Sunny muttered. "Something to do about business there?"

"Huh. Can't imagine what he's up to, then. Maybe he's just sightseeing?"

"Could be. So how did you meet him?"

"Bumped into him in the street."

“No. Seriously, how did you--”

“Did I stutter?”

"Oof!"

Okay, so when I say I bumped into him, what I mean is that we tripped over each other. I got insanely lucky, because he was carrying these massive stone bricks. There weren't many, but when they fell off of him, they barely--just barely--missed me. I got covered in mud, but I was thanking my lucky stars I didn't get hurt. Ramooh, though? He was apologizing like he'd just stepped on a manticore's paw.

That was Ramooh, to me. He was always really formal, sure--I think it's 'cuz of how he learned Equestrian--but more than that, he was just trying his best.

Once I was back on my hooves--and once he was convinced I hadn't broken anything--I asked him where he was going. And he said he was heading to set up a yajna--the exact kind of ceremony that I was looking for, the kind that kept getting gate-crashed by the monster. I might have fed him a teeny tiny white lie about wanting to experience Herdu traditions and stuff. He said he'd talk to his old bull about it, and the next day, I met them at the market. We picked up some food--mostly flour and a bit of butter. It's a sacrifice, you see. A couple of priests chant some lines, you toss the food into the fire, it goes to the gods. It's kinda weird, but I think of it like sending a letter by dragonfire. It's the same idea, right? All we had to do was go out into the depths of the woods, build a fire pit, and toss the stuff in--and, y'know, hope the monster doesn't kill us.