Chapters Power outages. The bane of any human society, so dependent on our access to the world's massive data networks. Just try going an hour without internet, willingly, and you'll devolve back into some lounging mess that bothers everyone else in the home, constantly whining, persistently asking to help, or doing any number of things capable of driving your average family to the breaking point.
So, one day, a smart man invented this fanciful machine called a generator, which was fairly aptly named. You plug it into the power circuit and transfer electrical power, and now you're supplied with energy as long as you have gasoline. About twice what you'd need, depending on your specific electrical requirements. Like running eight hairdryers, or something. Now, electricity's a fickle thing, and when you're in the middle of the freezing cold sometimes the path of least resistance isn't what you always expect. So, without further adieu, so begins my story in Equestria:
I was staring at my computer sometime in the late afternoon. Seven-ish, I think? I couldn't exactly check the clock with what came next. I was on FIMfiction, disappointed that there wasn't another chapter of that guy Bruce in a filly's body, and shipping him with the cutie mark crusaders in some strange polygamist reverse-gender society where mares were the aggressive ones and colts the motherly. Weird, right? But it was a decent fic overall, with lots of character development and, as a bonus, had Pinkie as one of the more important figures. It's always nice when authors have originality, just like that - Wait, shit. The alarms just beeped and my screen darkened. A glance at the right side of the taskbar and that was explained away: power outage.
I unplugged my myriad cords sticking from my laptop and flicked it to power saver, tossing it into my backpack. I had class coming up, anyhow, and figured now was as good a time as any to get going. Pens in my pockets, keys, phone, and a shout from my mom for good measure. Wait, what?
"What!?" I screamed down the stairwell, and an inaudible yell returned. I descended the stairs, slinging my bag over my back and grabbing my watch. I fastened the cheap thing as I reached the bottom and cried again; "What, Mom?" I asked, and she was audible this time.
"Can you go set up the generator? I just checked 9WSYR and they're saying it's at least four hours until the power can be restored."
"Transformer blow or something?" I asked.
"Dad would be the one to ask, not me." She said, shrugging as she worked with the dishwasher. I just nodded and stepped into the dank garage, the most wonderful smell of our trash cans meeting my nose. It was time to work quickly, and I uncovered the little wheeled monstrosity with a flourish, tossing the cover in a corner and wheeling it to the door. I walked back to the doorway and tapped one of the door openers.
It didn't work, and I tapped it again.
And again.
And again. I opened the door and called to my mom, "Hey Mom, the door's not opening."
"The power's out, numbnut!" She called back from the kitchen. I facepalmed. Back to the door, I pulled the red cord that took it off the track and pulled it up manually, letting it slide into place and wincing when it came down a bit to settle into place. I'd never admit it, but I'm fairly easily startled by things. Too used to being the stealthy one, after all.
I wheeled the big 'ol generator out and started the startup process. Like a pilot with his checklist, I went over the steps needed. It was only a little red box, no more than three feet high, and I quickly checked the oil and gas. Guess what? Had to fill them both up, joy. I stood for a minute admiring the house before recalling I was in a T-Shirt. A simple old gray thing, with red shutters and simple paneling. White garage doors and a crappy grey garage. All too grungy colored for my taste. The world outside was white and fluffy, the snows this year far better than the last. I went skiing, rather than "slushing", and that was what mattered.
Stepping back into the garage, I made a beeline to a dozen high-up cabinets containing all sorts of odds and ends: basketballs, footballs, soccer balls, some tools and car repair things, a can of gasoline, some coolant jugs, ah! Oil! I nabbed it and put it on the floor, and looked again for the gasoline. I checked all the rest of the cabinets. Where was the... wait, I saw it before, it was just there!
I spent fifteen minutes looking for what was already sitting in front of my face. Today was grand. I filled up the generator and started her up. Smoke billowed out and I left it to start warming up: in the meantime, I was already chilled to the bone. I was wearing some ranger green cargos, filled to the brim with odds and ends. I nabbed my multicam jacket that I normally wear for airsoft: it was one of those Afghanistan-issue ones, so it was nice and toasty. Snapping its fasteners into place, I nabbed a simple knit cap and a pair of ski goggles: all the better to go skiing later with the bros.
All that gear assembled, I was about to slip on my boots before realizing I'd forgotten something: my wallet. Damn, this morning was going just fantastic. My dad told me this story once where slaves were taught to say things were fantastic rather than bullshit. It's been something of an inside joke since then, and sometimes he forgets we're using it when he rants.
Regardless, back up the stairs, I poked into my sister's room. She's the only human I know who can sleep in such awkward positions, and until as late as two in the afternoon. But she'd been bratty yesterday, so... I nabbed one of her cymbals from her drum set, and one of her sticks.
CLANG!
"Moooorning, Sunshine!" I shouted. A feral scream met me as she shot out of bed at me. I dumped the cymbals and ran out the door, slamming the door in her face. Another thump told me the mission was accomplished as she whacked it. My giggles and her screams already had my mom yelling at me, but I didn't really care. Senioritis and all that.
I snapped my wallet into my back pocket and checked around for any other forgotten items. I vaguely heard my sister screaming at me from the doorway, but I was busy. I grabbed my IPad and leatherman, both of which were more of a whim than a true necessity, and tossed them in the bag. Sara was still screaming at me, but she didn't really beat some of the kid's program stuff I did for the military.
"-'s just freaking mean!" She screamed, as I zoned back in.
"I'm mean? Do you even look at yourself in the mirror, ever?" I asked. She self consciously grabbed at her hair.
"Not like that. I mean how do you think people t-"
"Alex! Just go to school!" My mom shouted from down in the foyer. I let out a grunt and pushed past my sister. Same argument since I was like three. She'd get me in trouble for all sorts of things she did and generally just overstated anything I did to her. A light tap would be a hit with a sledgehammer. A push would send her rocketing through a wall. And believe me, I'm not that kind of PT god.
I made my way back down, nabbed a poptart, and turned around to be face-to-face with my mom.
"Did you really have to get her riled this early?" She asked.
"Look, mo-"
"No, you look. You're almost out of High School. She's just a sophomore. Be the bigger person."
"Fifteen years is a long time to be bigger, especially when I'm 5'2''" I retorted. She chuckled a bit.
"Get to school. Lazypants will take the bus since she's ever so punctual."
"Alright, mom. Just let me get the generator going."
"Of course. See you tonight." She said.
"Yeah, if that." I disappeared out of the kitchen and back into the garage, listening to the generatory's loud hum as I plugged it into one side of the generator. It was a slick and slippy morning, and I slowly made my way back into the garage, cord at my side. I slapped it in, turned it, and made my way downstairs. Dad was on a call, so all I heard was some BS about incompetent coworkers, overbearing bosses, and whatever else he could complain about on a fine monday morning. At least he didn't have school 'till 8:30 PM, with my extra college courses plus High School.
I entered the back room, only a single small emergency light guiding me to the transfer box. Four slaps later, the volt meter was still zero and the lights were still all off. I frowned. Must be a generator problem.
And so it was. I passed back up the dark hall, light in hand, and left it plugged in as I ascended the stairs. My dad got my attention with a hand wave and pointed to the lights above his wooden desk. I shrugged, and he frowned. I mimicked putting on a hard hat and ascended to my foyer again, giving me view of the kitchen.
"Trouble with the generator?" My mom asked. I only nodded as she chopped some carrots on the counter.
"Today's been a great day so far. Wonder what else could go wrong?"
"Not deathly afraid of Murphy's law today? I'm surprised." She said, glancing at the wooden wall hanging. "Anything that can go wrong will"
"Murphy will hunt me even if I forget him. Might as well fight him straight up." I reached into the fridge and pulled out a water bottle before heading back out to fix whatever this mess was. My eyes darted around as I re-entered the garage for the third or fourth time, and I could only sigh as I saw... nothing wrong with the generator. I jiggled the cords and checked the house: no light.
I sat and caught a breath on my porch, and buried my face in my hands. Looking at the sky, I asked the question most on my mind as of late. "Why do you hate me so much?" The silence could be cut with a butterknife. I kicked the pavement and stood, waltzing back to the generator.
It's roar was loud, like a lion, and I twisted the power cord and removed it. I glanced at the prongs briefly: no issues visually. I blew on the receptacle and inserted it once more. The house's lights flicked on immediately, and I nodded. A foot down, and I noticed I'd stepped on something. The cord itself. The lights flicked back off again, and I noticed the prongs had come partially undone.
I bent down to put them back in, and my finger brushed the prongs themselves. The live ones.
I was on my back, my vision swimming, and a ring of pain deafened by the generator left me down and the power back on. I struggled, but nothing moved. My legs were numb, my arms on fire, and my chest beating irregularly: and I could even hear it. More swimming, and some flashes. A headache came on, too. I writhed, and tried to scream, but my lungs weren't moving. My eyes got cloudy, and my head wouldn't let me put many more thoughts through.
Everything slowly but surely dissipated. Until all thoughts were replaced with little more than the primal instincts of pain and fear. Pain and fear...
One last thought made it through my mind: So this is death.
And then my next life started.
New life does not mean being free of aches and pains. I can tell you that much, at least. My entire body felt like it was stitched together from pieces, moving slow and haggard rather than tight and controlled. Like a well-used bionicle whose joints moved when played with rather than staying in place for posing.
My heart burned, my legs ached, and my arms were limp, but I somehow managed to reach a sitting position, the pain only half as bad as it had been on my... accident. I leaned slowly into the nook of a tree and collapsed to a sitting position, the pain too unbearable. All I could move was my eyes, and my thoughts, without everything going insane. And what I saw was... magical. In its own way, at least.
The snow was uniform, no tracks at all, and the trees kept their leaves despite obviously massive snowdrifts. All was quiet, and my breath let out puffs of white that slowly faded into nothingness as the seconds went by. This was winter. Not the crappy, controlled winter of planet Earth, but that strange tasting, smelling, feeling winter of this strange new world I'd entered. One of primal goodness and calmness. It felt at peace, filled with many different landmarks and objects.
The craned tree, seemingly bent ninety degrees and soaking sunlight from above in a clearing. The notched oak, an oak that seemed to have dozens of notches along its trunk as it rose. The ghost tree, a leaf-less white monstrosity that seemed to look like one of those flapping advertisement guys, tubular with two arms (branches) outstretched.
A full land of beauty. Was this heaven? But my thoughts were quelled as I moved a hand to my face, my arm's musculature screaming at me. No, I thought. This is just a rest stop on the long road.
Of course, I wasn't sure, but I had already had my energy sapped by death and strenuous movement, so my body simply slumped for awhile, my head comfortably resting against my backpack's cushioning as I drifted into a fitful sleep, the pains of movement regularly awakening me, and the dreams attained besides were no more comfortable.
The red generator grew fanged teeth
It roared louder than ever before. A drone that pierced your eardrums and made blood drip down the sides of my ears. I screamed but no sound came.
Lightning bolts rippled from its sockets, burning away limb after limb, until all that was left was my head.
Another scream, little more than a gurgle this time. Wind unafflicted by vocal cords.
Its sockets look like eyes. Blood red, angry.
Its teeth envelop me. I feel the blankness and the pain.
Every dream is the same. Slowly gaining in terror.
I awaken sweating. I try to move and the aches are lessened, but only so much. Walking is a discomfort rather than a blinding pain, and I manage to climb off the ground, leaving my backpack as a marker. Instinctively, I reach for my phone and tap the home icon. Somehow, travelling through universes, it managed to survive with a full charge. Well, to be specific, it's charge count is reading a sideways eight. I unlocked it and tried connecting to the internet, but to no avail. Starting up Pandora, though, blasted out some dubstep beats that echoed loudly in the empty forest. I squelched them immediately. Youtube, too, seemed to be functional. My wikipedia app was even on. The clock said 6 AM, and from the looks of the sky it seemed to be accurate.
But I wasn't in a place to question that, as my stomach rumbled. I briefly wondered if this new world was even capable of supporting human life. What if nutrients were less plentiful, or an entirely different base protein was used that left me unable to eat anything. But my thoughts were allayed by the fact that my phone seemed to have an infinity charge. If that was the case, then, it shouldn't be an issue to find food. I dug into my backpack quickly, looking for my leatherman, and set to work soonafter.
Bits of bark here, some dry twigs after, a few logs from craned tree's branches, and I had my first fire going. A good way to mark the route back, and to cook whatever I caught. A branch about hand's width around was a good catch, and I used the Leatherman's knife to quickly scrape out a spearpoint, using the fire to blacken it and make the sharpness a bit more permanent. That done, I started off into the woods, little more than a spear and a multitool to guide my way.
It'd be a few hours: 'till around 10, before I found my first creature. A four legged brown creature, it certainly reminded me of many others of its kind found at home. I wasn't the best thrower, but this creature wasn't as attentive as your average deer, so that wasn't an issue. I crept slowly and steadily behind it and made it clean. A strike to the back of the neck severs the medulla and ceases brain activity quickly -- nothing like Anatomy class to make you a cold and calculating murderer.
A fireman's carry allowed me to hoof the monster back to the fire, where I began the disgusting task of gutting the monster for food. At the least, the cold environs would make things somewhat more bearable in regards to bacteria. In fact, the corpse didn't even begin to smell or seemingly have any issues. Almost as if the world was too clean for even bacteria to be an issue.
And it wasn't as if I was cherrypicking, either, it was simply that almost everything had a sort of "magical" quality to it. Like it was too happy, too clean, or otherwise through the filter of a twelve year old's mind. Lines seemed sharper, almost like they were shaded, and made the environment that much easier to discern. It was strange, and that night as I cooked the deer's meat over the fire, I stared into the lifeless eyes of it, seemingly unchanged.
I started digging it a grave the day after. Filled it in by noon. Couldn't bear the sight of an un-rotting corpse, flayed and all. It made me more disturbed than I had been dissecting cats in A+P. And that said something.
Food taken care of, I began my lean-to experience by scraping off tons of bark and other items from dead trees, lining sticks along the sides of the craned tree, and covering those with the bark, creating a little creche inside this space. Protected at the top of a small hill, future rains would runoff outside, rather than into my sleeping spaces.
As the sun high above began its descent, I slowly stowed the meat I'd acquired, using leaves of undead trees to wrap them individually to keep the smell from attracting animals. I'd heard some sketchy roars, almost like that lion at the end of the old cartoon network shows. But as night fell, fatigue replaced caution, and I collapsed into sleep.
So ended my first day in this new realm. A place that felt, in all five senses, different from the Earth I had grown up on. The air had a new 'taste', the sky a new sheen, the sun a strange brightness, and the snow a different texture. Everything smelled off, and yet the noises were the most normal as can be, and the deer tasted much like any other from earth. Looked that way, too.
But as survival mode kicked in, altruism and introspection fell by the wayside. It would be a good while before I wasted my time with trivial pursuits: not when there was food to stockpile and a place to fortify. Because as I slept that second night, in between nightmares, I heard the howls and screeches and cries of a world still very much alive, even in this cold.
It had been months. Abrupt skip in the story, I know. I'd arrived in November, way back when I caught my first deer. Its been a long time, to put it lightly. Now it's practically february, and the snow is starting to melt. The first spring rain hit last night, and I feel like all my stories from the past few months are probably worth penning. I've been running into animals more and more as time has gone on, and I'm damned sure something's stalking me. But that's neither here nor there. Grab some popcorn, because these ones are doosies. I suppose I'll start with one only a week or so after my first arrival.
It's one of my more memorable: When I met Stache
I had been walking for maybe a few hours, my backpack on and my iPhone's ubercharge lighting the path before me with a red hue, preserving night vision. Eerily quiet as always, the forest felt even quieter than before. My finely tuned adventure senses, if you could call them that, told me that I was having a bad feeling about this. Granted, I hadn't done anything particularly interesting in the past week, besides from catch some deer and other food-bearing critters. And had a sick day after eating some berries, but the less we say about that the better.
But I was sure I'd heard a noise, almost like sobs, out in this direction. I'd seen a river here earlier, but it was still frozen and thus not particularly safe to traverse. I'd given it up at that point, planning on fishing later if food got scarce. But now I approached with a different tempo, my footsteps silent. I flicked off my phone light, letting my eyes fully adjust, as the cries slowly loudened. Echoes resolved into a male sob, and I nearly charged in. But something in me stopped that sort of charge. It was the bad feeling welling again.
I got prone, my legs out behind me as I slowly writhed through the grass and underbrush, until I was extremely close. A clearing before me lead to the river, and I squinted through the darkness. Something was there, amongst the rushing water that was now audible. My ears trying to analyze the new sound, and my eyes observing the target, my hands quickly moved to put more brush and other camouflage between me and it. Whatever it was.
I saw a figure in the ocean, its scales glinting just so in the moonlight. Moving in strange, almost bridge-like patterns, the body slowly fanned out of view, appropriate for the moonlight. Whatever it was, the head of the creature was obviously facing the opposing side of the river, providing opportunity for closer study.
I quietly exited the hidey hole and entered the clearing, the creature's full size becoming further apparent as I closed in. Towering at perhaps seven or eight feet, its curves were patterned, ending in a tail hanging just over land. I resisted the temptation to start touching it, of course, but I still closed to continue observation.
Whatever it was, it was wallowing. The dark waters rushed partly because of its body's shutters, causing the water to vibrate just so to make it move roughly. Swimming in my gear would be a challenge, and the briskness of the environs meant to do so was suicide anyways. It began to move, and in panicked speed I quickly hid behind a tree. A hissing sound met my ears, and it slinked onto land, its head visibly looking for something.
"One does not simply mutter to oneself behind my back, mmm?" It said, in a voice that sounded like I'd just stepped into a drag bar. I facepalmed, but remained in cover. The darkness outside the clearing made it impossible for him to actually see me, but hearing my breathing was probably possible after my little heart attack earlier. "Fine, be that way. I can sit here all century."
Damn. This guy was tricky. And if I left the tree he'd be able to take a shot at me. I fidgeted a little and slid into a sitting position. "I heard that, you little munchkin! Don't be hiding from me now, I don't bite!"
"Oh, so you're more of a candles and massage oil type?" I retorted. My hands slapped over my mouth to stifle a gasp at what I'd just said. The monster just laughed.
"Oh, a comedian at this time of the year!" It said in its voice. "How I do love visitors. You didn't need to be all hidey-widey!"
"Why are we in the past tense here? I'm not out of cover yet."
"Well because it'd just be unfabulous to avoid a conversation when you need to cross me to head anywhere significant, of course!" He said, embellishing his importance.
"So walking on some ice floes isn't an option? Will you drown me or something?" I quipped.
"Oh heavens no! I'm not that kind of sea creature, after all." Here I was, talking to a feminine-sounding male sea beast, teleported onto another planet, chatting about whippdie-doo. I let out a laugh.
"So, care to tell me where I am, stranger?" I asked.
"Well, some have told me this is the Everfree forest. Obviously a name chosen by someone who can walk on land." Said the beast. "Come now, let us chat in the open. I don't bite."
"But if you did, you could kill me." I retorted.
"Oh, heavens. You act like I'm a large murdering monster."
"Well, have I any other data to go off of than appearance?"
"Well... Has anyone told you not to judge a book by its cover?"
"How do you get that reference? How do you read books underwater?" I asked/
"...Now that you mention it." A glance around the side had the creature in a contemplative look. His face looked like one of those asian dragons they wore as a costume sometimes. I took a moment to collect myself and turned the corner. Its two large eyes transfixed me for a moment. "You look positively invisible in that clothing! A most dashing choice, my friend!"
"Friends have names. What's yours?" I asked. His appearance was familiar, and tickled a bit at the back of my head. Where had I seen him?
"Well, I've never really had a need for one, now that you mention it. I only chat with folk rarely." He said, twirling his moustache. One side was purple and curly, oddly enough. That tickle hit me again, but I was too invested to care. "I've got very few worries other than my appearance, you see, so I guess it could be something related to that, mmm?"
"'Stache. Definitely your name." I said, looking at the strange dual-type thing growing on his face. The teeth bared into a grin, and I flinched into a near-run as his mouth slowly resolved into a smile. Stupid instincts.
"Glorious, darling! Named after my most favorite part of my appearance. This moustache is just radiant, I'm so happy you noticed." The sea dragon-thing beamed.
"Whatever, Stache. It was nice meeting you, but I've got to get to bed. Anything I should be worried about in these woods?"
"Nothing too taxing. Don't approach any Manticores and stay away from any trees with funny apples. The Timber Wolves are protective creatures. Oh, and if you see any Cockatrices, I recommend looking away. They're rare, but they can be a doozy. And there have been things killing deer lately, so I'd suggest keeping an eye open."
My eyes darted a bit at the last part. "Right. Thanks, Stache. I'll see you around?" I asked.
"Of course. I promise to calm down the river, and if you ever need to cross: just ask. I hardly mind being a bridge for civil folk in these parts."
"Then this is farewell." I said. "Nice meeting you."
"And you as well, invisible man!" He called as I melded with the forest, taking the long trek back to my campfire.
Stache became my go-to guy for goings on in the forest. I could never figure out where I'd seen him, though. It was always a bother, but he was more than amiable enough to make me forget about it. Having someone to talk to in this mess of an afterlife was enjoyable, at the least. I expanded the shelter and kept on building, trying to, at the least, improve things. It went from a simple lean to, to a full-on tent. Deer pelts helped me create a working tepee, and continued hunts helped me make a collapsable long tent, roughly as big as a bedroom. Since I didn't have much for belongings, I also started on bedrolls and some small furniture: little more than carvings with my knife, vines, and some improvised hammers. By the end, I had myself a cosy little place to light up a fire and spend the night.
It was lonely, but Stache helped with that. Of course, living in this Everfree (and damned if that name wasn't familiar...) was never easy, and my next story is certainly one that will interest many of whoever's reading: The Fight.
Now I'm not much of a spearman, but I certainly learned how to be one on this fateful day. It all began when I was exploring this cliff face, right?
The cliff was steep. Maybe a hundred foot drop from top to bottom, complete with sharp rocks and treetops at the bottom. Luckily, I was at the bottom of that mess, so falling wasn't the sort of thing to expect from this story.
Perhaps it was the cold. Perhaps it was the boredom. Or perhaps it was simply the wanderlust that drove me out of my tent on slightly warmer winter morning to go off exploring, clothing in hand and backpack on, filled with my assorted electronics. My iPad had a fairly effective pedometer app, so I'd been using it alot to keep pace counts. The iPhone compass was ineffectual at first, but calibration via the sun's movement allowed a semi-accurate course plotting for long-distance travel.
In less mumbo-jumbo: I figured out how to go places without getting lost. And no, I didn't need a big thing of string. Hey, that rhymed! As I made my way along the face, I had only one goal in mind: check out the nearest cave. Not exactly my best laid plans, but I was just so bored it was worth it. Listening to the same songs on your iPod got to your head after awhile, and no new artists were going to show up anytime soon across universes. Unless they joined me in Purgatory, I guess.
The grass was beginning to poke out of the snow, and that was a good sign: these winter clothes really needed a good cleaning, and you couldn't easily do that and still stay warm. Always pray for the little things. Like -- oof. I whacked my head into a low-hanging rocky protusion. Those are always fun.
Luckily it was right before a cave mouth, so I guess it's not all bad. I rubbed my head and stepped into the mouth, my iPhone already up and lighting the way, as I slowly trod into the cave. I wasn't sure what exactly compulsed me to do what I was doing, but as I slid my phone into the perforated strap pocket of my backpack, I noticed my heartbeat rising, and my white knuckle grip on my spear -- which had become a most trusty tool as time had gone on.
Light bathed across the room, and my ears perked up for any sound. They were met with snores. My eyes went wide, and half my head said to escape. The other said to confront the danger. I went deeper, branching through several different sections of cave, only to finally come upon the source of the noise: a sleeping brown creature. I let out a harumph and turned to leave the creature to its devices. Only to hear a yawn from behind. My neck craned in the darkness, the light of my phone clearly illuminating a pair of eyes blinking in confusion, as they fixed directly on me.
The creature slowly turned from confusion to anger, a deflation of sorts as both parties suddenly became very aware all of the sudden. What happened next felt like some sort of crazy videogame quicktime sequence.
Tap X and O rapidly to escape the monster, running quickly. You tap the right stick upwards to jump over a rock outcropping, and hit up on the D-Pad to knock down a stalac-or stalag, whatever's on top, down into the creature's face as it chases in anger. Spin the stick to round a corner, letting go of the X to try and pivot on your right foot.
As I exited the cavern, panting, the roars only kept coming. I hadn't done nearly enough exercise in the amount of time I'd been here, especially with the deer's calmness, so this Bear's danger was my first real exercise in danger since arrival. And it showed. I was wheezy, confused, and trickling blood from that head impact earlier. A great way to start a battle. The roaring intensified as it reached the open field near me, and I retreated into the trees, finding cover behind a log. I pointed my spear upwards and ducked down behind it. Sure enough, the bear came rocketing over, and a quick jab had it in the leg. Blood trickled, and I rushed in the opposite direction. The bear followed, obviously slowed immensely by the injury.
What followed was a typical texas standoff, slowly circling the opponent and looking for weak points. Occasionally I'd try a jab and have to withdraw, or the Bear would make a strike and I'd try countering which scared it back. But, visibly, it grew more and more angry as the fight went on.
"What, Beary? Mad I disturbed your slumber?" I said. It roared a challenge back at me, surprisingly, and I intensified my questioning. "Well too bad! It was my fault and you chased me when I was on my way out!"
A paw slashed out at me, and I whipped the butt of my stick to parry, leaving the bear open for an attack. I made a poke to the chest, but it was badly aimed and slid down the spear's side rather than penetrating. A snap told me I'd accidentally broken the sharp end. Hardly where I wanted to be in a bear battle. It roared another challenge.
"I told you, man! I didn't know you were in there." It mocked a snoring noise. I left myself open as I emoted. "Oh, so now snoring is supposed to be an e-" The bear, distracting me well enough with his roaring, suddenly struck at me. I was too far open, and felt a lance of pain and its claw dug into my side. Adrenaline turned pain into anger, and I brought a viscious strike down with my now-flat stick. A sickening crack told me I'd done more damage, overall.
The beast reared away. I clutched at my side, my hands slick with blood. A roar was now little more than a groan, and it moved to come at me again. My slick hands struck out again, this time directly on the snout, another crack coming from something other than the impact. The bear 'roared' again, and I struck another time. It swung its paw wildly at my face, and I barely avoided losing an eye. I felt heat all up and down my face, though. And a wet trickle reached my lips, tasting of rust. My next strike was to the sternum, and the bear collapsed. My body bloody, my arms aching, and everything blurry, I tried navigating back to my tent.
I barely made it before I lost consciousness. The infection was minimal, though, and I didn't bleed myself dry. Wherever that bear is, though, I'm sure he's still smarting from that fight. And one day we'll probably have a rematch.
And oh, did we. But that part of the story is a hard one to tell. For it was the end to my stay in the woods, but it one I must tell regardless. A tale of pain, of confusion, and of revelation. It was the first time that little itch when I first met stache made sense, and explained most of the oddity in the world. From the lack of decomposition to simple things like bugs missing. And it all adds up to the little creatures I met on that fateful day when the snow finally melted.
Especially the orange one, whose courage and trust may damn well have saved my life.
My bandages itched like hell, restricted me, and left me tired and slow when physical activity was concerned: but months of hard work had paid off. My supplies of water and food were numerous enough to be able to spend a week or two off duty. But even I could become cooped up with too much time indoors. Funny, because back home I'd spend forever on my laptop: but now, with infinite charge, I can scarcely remember what I even used it for.
They say retention comes with regular use, and I haven't used any of this stuff in years, except for aforementioned purposes. It says something when the only utility for these items is watching shows and wallowing in lonesomeness. Sure, I had Stache to chat with, but he was on a trip upriver to try and find the sea. I was alone for awhile, and with nothing but some of my old itunes items and a stale and unchanged youtube to pique my interest I was heavily bored. Idly, I clicked on My Little Pony, gladly recalling the times I spent learning of Twilight Sparkle and her fellow cast members. I hummed the tune as it played, the happiness of the voices a welcome change from the dull forest. Funny, that the forest in the first episode was also named the Everfree. I need to remember to ask Stache how he knew that was the name, anyways?
As I kept watching, I giggled at the ghostly and gasped at the Nightmare enveloping ponyville, until they reached a familiar-looking river. Huh. Almost like a cartoon vers. No. Nonononono.
I was not in My Little Pony this entire time. I tossed the laptop on the grassy floor and stepped outside, only wincing a little from my bandages and holding the walking stick firmly in my hand. I stared at the sun and remembered Celestia. Click.
The picture of Stache chatting with Rarity. The purple curl on one side but not the other. It all added up, but it was just too strange: no Manticores or Cockatrices, though Stache had mentioned the latter a few times. But this was just too surreal: too obvious. It wasn't like forgetting the power was out, it couldn't be.
But it was. In my heart, I understood that it had to be true. Too perfect to be a coincidence.
As I stood there, the spring winds slowly swirling in a cloudy sky, I pulled up my hood and collected my gear. Now was as good a time as any for a walk. The forest was quiet this time around, birds and animals alike hunkered down for the dangers of a lightning storm. But I'd died that way already: it didn't scare me this time around, and wouldn't ever again so long as I lived. Hah, a bit of dark humor was always good.
Not like anyone ever dies in My Little Pony anyways. I bet I could be the craziest daredevil and not even flinch. But as I thought that, my eyes turned to my bandages. That had been real. It had all been real. Lightning burst nearby, and thunder clapped against my eardrums. I found myself wandering further and further from my campsite and through the mud, my boots nearly submerged. I wasn't sure what I intended to find, but my thoughts drifted to all those fanfictions I'd read. Humans: converted to ponies and disbelieved, seen as threats and crazy carnivores, or as good friends or even *gulp* lovers. Not that I ever understood the last bit, you understand.
The rain intensified, to the point where I could barely see. My ears were ringing from thunder. But still my thoughts continued. "Why me? Why this? I..." I remembered my words on the porch. "...A gift? I hate to be Rarity, but, A ROCK?" I mocked into the heavens, rain helping muddy my words. Lighting struck again, a nearby tree splintering. "Oh! No, no! I get it! This is your idea of fun!" Another strike, and another tree.
"Fine! Be that way, you bastard! Kill me and give me a whole new world. Make me leave my friends and family, leave me with little more than some asian dragon who's voice makes my ears bleed. No, I get it!" I screamed. More trees. I screamed into the air.
A foot in front of the other, as I saw the vague outline of the cliff in the distance. "This wasn't what I meant!" I said, tears joining raindrops. "I just wanted a day off, without all the BS! Just a day where I could sit and think and chill out. But that's not what I got at all! Just more work! More things to do! More things to screw up and people to disappoint!"
"Why'd I deserve this?" I screamed up like some crappy flick on television. The lightning finally answered me more, striking the cliff face. I trudged further, my vision swimming and the mud flows already quite deep. My knees were covered like all else, and I could finally resolve the wall and its stone. And, another thing lying at the cliff base. A far-off noise met my ears, and I snapped my eyes up. It almost sounded like a little girl screaming, complete with voice cracks. 'loo! Sc...oo!' The rain was too thick, the thunder too loud, and I trudged on to the strange break in the solid mud. Something orange and magenta, lying. I gasped a little as I realized who it was.
I'm not really religious. I'll be honest, I just kind of argue with the guy. Devil's Advocate with God, I guess. But if there ever was one for that little scream argument earlier, it was this: a small little filly, covered in mud and obviously injured, a leg bent at a severe angle and her breathing ragged. How I knew all that in the midst of the storm was a bit beyond me at that point. I already had my arms around her. The echoing screams from above could be any number of things, but I didn't have time for deduction now.
On the upside, the likelihood of myself being hit with lightning whilst carrying a little orange pegasus -- Scootaloo, my My Little Pony brain told me -- was far lower just based on statistics. How often a person gets hit is low, and how often a person gets hit whilst doing any action is even lower. But then there's the chance of two people being hit by one being carried, and that was probably even lower. Yeah, that was totally the reason I decided to help a wounded pegasus.
Idly, as I carried her through the knee-deep mud, I shot my eyes to the cave, and noticed a set of tracks into the woods. One arm on Scootaloo, and one on my spear-turned-stave, I clomped through the muck and mud without pause, my heart pounding from close strikes. The 'Trees of Doubt' as I called them now, splintered and singed, mocked me as I crossed, and slowly but surely the mud disappeared, replaced by undergrowth, as I neared my little tent. The rain had been harsh, but situation on a raise in the ground allowed most of it to runoff. It was dry when I entered and laid the filly down.
"Jesus." I said to myself. Her leg was bent sickeningly (for a horse) and I wasn't quite sure what to do about that. Her breathing indicated unconsciousness rather than sleep, so I moved quick to get it set. I had some sticks around for a splint: shortening those was a chore but happened quick enough. The leg was mended fast, but the rain didn't show any signs of stopping. I plopped back on my fur bedroll, and looked back at it for a minute. Her waking up in a tent of animal skins would be.. problematic.
But I guess I'd cross that bridge when I got to it. I took a minute to wonder exactly what happened to her. At the bottom of the cliff? With some shouts from above? But still somewhat intact and alive?
I played through a few scenarios, but only one really made sense:
"No, it'll work, I swear!" Said Scootaloo, her friends looking at her a bit incredulously.
"Are you su-ure?" Asked Sweetie Belle, her voice cracking. Scootaloo sighed.
"Look girls, we're already breaking the rules by being out here in the forest. What's the harm of trying to glide down? Cutie Mark Crusaders fliers!" She shouted. Applebloom just huffed.
"That's darn crazy, and you know it. We can't even begin to try flyin'. You just wan' to go try it for y'self." Said Applebloom.
"We're supposed to be friends here Applebloom! Why can't you two back me up on a solo thing?" Scoots asked, a puppy face on. Applebloom just rolled her eyes, but Sweetie gave in.
"Oh, you're right. Isn't she, Applebloom?" She asked.
"Whatever." Said Applebloom. "I ain't fixing you up if you fall, though. Ain't no funeral I plan on attending." She scoffed.
"Awesome!" Scoots shouted, her chicken wings unfolding.
"Y'sure about this, Scoots?" Applebloom asked, glancing over the edge and backing up a couple steps, a whinny coming out. "Looks awful far for if you mess up."
A crack of thunder startled them all. "No time! Have to try it now or else it'll be too dangerous!" She said. "Cutie Mark Crusader Daredevil!"
"No, Scoots! It's crazy!" Said Applebloom. Rain began pouring and dampening her mane, making it droop over her eyes.
"Yea-h!" Said Sweetie Belle, already having swapped sides. "It's too dangerous, Sc-ootaloo!" Her squeaks were less audible in the rainstorm, but still there.
"Watch me!" Responded Scootaloo, revving for a jump. Applebloom made to stop her, but a crack of thunder sent her missing and sliding a bit on the rocky cliff, sliding away into a nearby tree. Sweetie only watched in horror as the distraction sent Scootaloo toppling rather than flying off, her hastily flapping wings only dampening the fall. A crack was audible in the drizzle, and Sweetie Belle's eyes went wide. "Scootaloo!" She screamed loudly. "SCOOOTALOOOO!" It was practically blowing out her voice, but no response came. Tears met her eyes.
"Nononono..." She muttered as she ran over to Applebloom who was fairly cut up from sliding off into the tree, droplets of blood gathering on her muzzle. Sweetie Belle gasped in horror. All her fault. All her faulttt. "Applebloom! You have to get up!"
"Mmhnnapples. Wha?" She asked. "Where'n's the fire?" Bloom got to her feet.
"Ohnohno! Not both of you! How will we ever get down? Oh, nonono!" Sweetie stammered. Her voice just got more and more pitchy and cracky. Applebloom went to the ledge and looked down, seeing the orange image of Scootaloo. Seemingly retreating.
"Looks like she's movin', Sweetie Belle." Said Applebloom. Sweetie Belle took a peek.
"No! That's something else carrying her!" A scream came from her lips at it, but it only looked over to its left, before passing some ravaged trees deeper into the forest.
The two girls looked at eachother and cried. The Cutie Mark Crusaders had really screwed it up this time.
The fire was drying things out pretty well. A rainstorm like that was a first for me in this place, but it was nice to have it all gone so quickly. The fire was warm enough to stop rain from dissolving it, and my firewood stock was still good by the end of it all. Scootaloo was napping, not unconscious, with a slightly calmer and steadier breathing pattern than before. I was happy about that, seeing as having a filly awaken in pain and confused was probably a bad thing. Her leg was splinted pretty well, and my spare bedroll was in use as a pillow for her. Hopefully her waking up wouldn't be too... awkward, to put it lightly.
I was faced away deliberately, but close enough to the tent flap that she couldn't sneak out. My laptop was on, and one of my few games on Steam that didn't require internet was booted. I avoided headphones like the plague for fear she'd escape, meaning the soft sounds of Crusader Kings 2 met her ears rather than the breeze. Hopefully that'd be for the better. Playing a Swede noble was certainly entertaining in the interim, though I wondered briefly where that big old bear was in this rainstorm. I had my stick on hand, but... I wasn't exactly sure if another fight would go my way.
Best I didn't find out, right?
Yeah, that was a great way to get hurt. Directly challenge murphy's law. Idly, I checked out the doorway. The rain was slowly dissipating, the first cracks of sunlight hitting the ground outside. I sighed briefly, before turning back to the game. Evil plots, and all. A few hours later, I saw a stirring next to me, and a pair of huge eyes opened to the interior of the tent, both confused and relieved. A struggling filly moved her legs in succession, a growl of pain emitting from her left hind one's attempt at movement.
"I wouldn't mess with that one if I were you." I said, in my most peaceful voice I could. It didn't keep the pony from freezing and facing me with eyes of pure terror. I just waved and tried acting meek, but being twice her size probably didn't help. Rather than charge out the flap as I predicted, and fail horribly, she sunk into the corner and kept looking about while her breathing quickened immensely, her eyes focusing on the huge fire and bullets of sweat starting to form. She was having a full-on panic attack.
"Scootaloo. You need to keep calm. You're safe." I said, but she only stared at me even more fearfully.
"How." She managed to mutter behind all the chattering and darting. I shifted slightly toward her and she cringed.
"It's a long story. You're going to need to get yourself back in check first, before that gets told."
"And if I want to leave and get back to my friends?" She asked. Clever girl.
"You're not going anywhere on that leg. What were you thinking?" I asked. Her face sank and she shed a tear. Her quivering lip and eyes told me everything.
"Sometimes I get it too far into my head to do a thing!" She shouted after a minute of contemplation. "I wanted to fly! Or at least glide! But all I got was a busted leg and some fluttering out of it!" She cried out. "This rain can go to Tartarus!" Her breathing was calming a little, although I could tell it was now maintaining a heightened state of rage rather than panic. "Why was I so stupid!" Her head met the dirt as she lamented her actions to me. I paid half-attention: full would just make me want to intervene, and that wasn't what she needed.
After awhile, she finally sobered up and curled back into a ball. Before she looked back at me inquisitively.
"How do you know me?"
"I know lots of things." I said. I snorted twice. "Magic."
"You're a wizard?"
"Not exactly. I wish I was, though. It'd be cool to cast spells and make people into my own little army of frogs."
"Why would you want a frog army? They're too squishy." She said.
"Very true." I chuckled.
"What are you?" She asked, regarding my strange-looking frame, at least in her mind. I was certainly a sight after months in the wilderness: my stubble from that fateful day growing out into some monster of a beard, and my hair long since going the way of the surfer. Black as coal, it was a great way to keep warm in the wilderness, and cleanliness wasn't really my strong suit. As an aside, Stache has called me Beardo since we first met. Go figure.
"A Human" I said. Her eyes took on a questioning look.
"What's a Human? That isn't some species I ever heard of."
"Something not common in Equestria, like Griffons or Dragons. But we're from so far away that not even your oldest books probably have any information on us." I responded.
"Oh." Said Scootaloo, a bit downcast at that. She perked up as she noticed my laptop. "Whassat?"
"Oh, this? It's a laptop computer. Explaining how this works would give you a headache." I said, turning it towards her. "Basically, it's a little machine brain inside that we give a special set of instructions to, and it does certain things. Like generate this game I'm playing."
"Oooh, a game?" She asked. True to her childish nature, Scootaloo's fear slowly allayed as we got somewhat more familiar. "What kind of game?"
"Well, it's not exactly a kid's game." I said, frowning. "You'd probably think it boring."
"Try me!" She said, standing and realizing her leg was still out of commission. "Oww!" She screeched, as she collapsed back over. I let out a little hiss of sympathy and made my way over to her. Those eyes got wide again. "What're you doing?"
"Helping?" I responded, as I helped her back onto the bedroll. "It's probably not in your interest to move, right now. That fall was nasty."
"Why're you helping me, anyways?" She said. "I don't even know you!"
"Well, sheesh. I mean I guess I can leave you back at the base of the cliff. Not like I'd be any worse off." I retorted.
"No! You'd feel bad!" I looked at her quizzically.
"Which is it? Questioning why I'm helping or wanting me to?"
"I-ah-um. Oh." She said, hanging her head. "I'm being a real meanie, aren't I?"
"Whatever. Name's Alex, by the way." I said, giving her hoof a shake. "I don't know the way to Ponyville, unfortunately, but we'll have a chat with Stache in a few hours once the rain's stopped."
"Who's Stache? What kind of name is that?" She asked me.
"Which one? Mine, or his?"
"Both!" I gave a sigh. This little filly was being quite the nuisance.
"Alex is the short form of Alexander. It's a first name. My full name is Alexander James Boyle. Humans aren't named after talents or things like ponies are. Stache, is my friend, a huge river serpent I met a few months back." I said, explaining with some colorful pictures from my iPhone of Stache.
"Woah. Is this thing a computer-thing too?" She asked.
"Yeah. It's a bit different, but close enough."
We kept at this for a few hours. She was quite the inquisitor, and I got tired just listening to her. She fell asleep at maybe seven, and I quickly slept soonafter. We'd go and find Stache tomorrow: calling him was as simple as skipping rocks, he knew the flow of the river that well. My thoughts slowly drifted to the show as I sat there, wondering when in the continuity this would be happening. Obviously during Winter Wrap Up, or perhaps later since the Everfree was always later on the draw than Ponyville.
But as I drifted to sleep, my thoughts drifted to my future. Would Celestia and Luna lock me away? Would Twilight lock me in her basement and hook me up to a thousand wires? Would Pinkie Pie turn out to be the serial killer the fandom thought her to be? That final thought would ultimately be the guide for tonight's nightmare...
Damp and dark, like any dungeon. Smelling of dead flesh.
Straight hair. Looked cute when first seen, but now a sign of evil.
Smile of laughter turned to smile of psychopathy
A cleaver. Fingers one by one while heavy rain patters.
Element of Laughter, even the laughs of a madmare.
Arms wrap around me to start ripping open the chest...
I awake with a gasp, only to find an orange blob curled up on me, snoring softly. It's funny what real life does to dreams, and this was no exception. When the Pinkamena monster wrapped its talons around me, so too did Scootaloo in the real world. I'd never been one for nightmares before my death, and they were rare even now, but one or two hit me a month, often when I was especially down.
As I lay there in the darkness, I patted the little orange furball and sighed. Everything would be okay...
And then I heard a tearing at the cloth outside. My eyes went wide, and I searched for my stick. Nabbing it from the ground, I gently moved Scootaloo off of me and listened for whatever intruder might be outside. Crunching of snow and grass made me grip the stave tighter as I slowly made my way out, my eyes only barely adjusted. As I creeped out, the crunching became more fierce, and I heard further ripping. I slinked around, but cracked a stick as I did so. The noise stopped momentarily.
I rounded the corner, and came face-to-face with the threat. A black hulk of familiar size, with two gleaming orbs reflecting the moon's light staring back at me. It huffed, and I growled. "Round two?" I asked it calmly. The beast just scraped at the ground.
"Fine." Alex uses swing attack... It's ineffective. Damn pokemon combat. My stave strike was parried well by this fairly intelligent bear, and I was quickly counterattacked, a slash cutting my left arm. A cry of pain likely awoke Scootaloo if she hadn't heard me already, but this fight would be over before she mattered. A quick dance of stave and paw left the beast knocked a bit, but myself bloody. My wounds had weakened me greatly, and I felt a dreadful cold coming on from the rainy rescue. The bear had no such limitations. Swipes and stabs of its claws left my stick in dangerous condition, and I had one chance: an alpha strike that turned the tide.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I swung the battered stick in a sweeping strike, which connected hard on the beast's jaw, a sickening crack eminating once more. The pause was enough for a pair of big eyes to poke out from the tent, as myself and the bear circled in the clearing. "Alex? What's going on?" Their owner asked.
"Don't watch, Scootaloo. You need to-" I was cut off as the bear struck harder and angrier than before, a parry driving me to my knees. A thrust of the blunt end was enough to connect to the sternum, and I pressed the assault. A few claw strikes hit my thighs, and we separated in the chaos. I dropped to a knee, and the bear reared up to charge.
Only for it to scream in terror as something happened. I couldn't see it in the darkness, but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I charged and let out another wild swing as the bear writhed in pain, its face cracking again and the creature flailing wildly. Something fell off of it, and the black beast jogged into the forest. Blood trailed from the back of its neck.
I caught my breath before looking at whatever had saved me: and a little voice met my ears spitting something out. "Gross!" It shouted into the night, and I laughed a little. Then alot, as I stumbled over to the little demon that had helped me out.
Scootaloo sat in the dirt and thin snow, spitting out something and rubbing her jaw. "Don't make me help you out again, man."
"Help out? I wanted you to run!" I shouted at her. She took on an angry face.
"No! You told me to stop watching and come help!" She responded, and I facepalmed. What a great time to get cut off by the bear. "And how was I supposed to run with this leg? My little bit of hovering ability saved your butt this time, but it can't get me anywhere fast!"
"Whatever." I responded. "I blame the bear, an- aghh!" I suddenly was hit by the first waves of pain from all my cuts and rips. Scootaloo quickly caught on as she saw my coat slick with blood.
"Woah, mister! You're not doing too good!" She said, balancing one of my legs as I stumbled into the tent, I stripped off my pants and went for the small amount of med supplies in my backpack: a just-in-case for medically inclined folks like myself. I quickly nabbed a bandage and went for my deep thigh gash, applying a crapton of direct pressure. Scootaloo just watched in terror, fluttering on her wings to keep movement with the casted leg.
She paced like this across the tent, anxiously looking at me as I tied off a second bandage, and slowly relaxed as I gave a sigh of relief. We looked at eachother and just nodded, as she laid back on her bedroll and I on mine. The cold of the past months was receding, and I didn't even need a fire to sleep tonight.
But as I watched the moon with the slashes that bear had put in, and looked over to the little pegasus, I could only wonder what was in store.
A/N: As an aside, leave some comments on what your one biggest want for this fic is, so far? Some romance? A grandiose adventure? Comedy? You have...some input, in this regard.
The tent fell with ease. Its construction had always been shoddy, and the bear's rippping and tearing plus my companion's rough attitude quickly saw it in woody shambles, the timber beams piled neatly and the vines scattered amongst them. I made Scootaloo keep busy with some youtube videos, while I quietly laid eight large pelts upon several stones a short distance from the campsite.
The first, for my silent meal that went with a whimper, and that stared at me as I ate on that fateful night.
The second for my second kill, a rambunctious one that charged me down when it realized what was happening, providing me with my first injuries in this new realm.
The third a grazer, which stared me down as I took its life. Its cries haunted me for several nights after, though I was too famished at the time to consider the ramifications.
The fourth, fifth, and sixth were throws. I did not see their expressions as they fell, but each bore a small hole where my strike had hit, ultimately fatally. The raindrops that hit me in the night were signs of that impersonal weakness, as was the perpetual red stain on them. Explaining to the young pony how I got them was all that much harder with those stains.
The seventh was oddly calm. It was my only animal taken without a spear strike, in this case with a letherman to the medulla like the first.
The final was my worst and most exerting. I nearly twisted my ankle chasing it, my strike having gone deep enough but not into any fatal areas, leading the animal to run away with the spear sticking out. It was hours before I caught it, and that was when I decided hunting wasn't worth it.
These six went into my tent, while two turned into the soft bedrolls I and Scootaloo had slept on, although that last detail was kept for her sake. I didn't want her hating me, especially after having nobody except myself and Stache to talk to. That would have been too much.
I watched their fur flutter a bit in the darkness, before I stepped away from the place I'd buried all the bones. A small pit nearby held fish bones, as well. All my handiwork, and all my blood shed. All for nothing, I realized, as I looked up into the eye-pleasing rather thain paining sun. Celestia's sun. All of this time, I could have just walked to Ponyville if only I'd realized. But I was always the forgetful one, failing to mind things even when they were so blatant. I'd even felt it when I met stache, but now countless lives: eight Deer and many fish and small critters, were dead by my hands. I glanced briefly at them, streaked with dirt and mud, and shed a small tear. It was almost over, at least.
Like a soldier coming back from deployment, I sulked into camp in a chipper mood, the sulking mostly from extreme pain rather than any sort of issue. Scootaloo had tucked the laptop away and was seating herself carefully in my bag. It's the old adage about military duffle bags: all your gear and a small child, and in this case it wasn't far off the mark. I'd carry her and the broken leg all the way back to Ponyville, and screw the discomfort. I was finally freed of all the shamble living, and maybe I'd get to take a real bath with soap of all things. After all, the awkward conversations with Stache while nude got annoying real quick.
I smiled at her as I hefted the bag, quickly snapping the rarely-used chest strap in place to put most of Scootaloo's admittely minimal weight on my hips, rather than my shoulders. "Ready?" I asked. She nodded, and I took one last longing look at my campsite, the scattered leaves, ashes of the fire, stacked logs, and strewn vines all representing months of memories. And I smiled, for the first real time since I'd arrived.
It was time to leave this mess behind. My legs propelled me and my charge out of the clearing and into the brush. The cool winds of spring were upon us, and I'd rolled my jacket sleeves and unzipped it halfway to make things more comfortable. The orange pegasus started prattling after awhile, talking about the forest and its inhabitants. Something about "Cutie Mark Crusader Tour Guides" or something. I'd read and watched plenty of MLP, but never got enough of a sense of Scootaloo to really pin her down.
It's easy to say she's a younger Rainbow Dash, but she also seems to carry more depth and a bit less haughty of an attitude. More of a 'Haha, I beat you' rather than 'Haha, loser! I'm the best and you just lost as expected' type of person. Still a bother, but workable rather than inadmirable. And it didn't help that Dash piled on laziness. Scootaloo replaced that with excitability, seemingly endlessly interested in the world -- including its people, mostly Rainbow Dash. Although she did seem to admire my bear-fighting skills as well.
"I wish I got a bear-biting Cutie Mark..." She said, finally dragging me back into the conversation. I chuckled at that one as we hopped over a log.
"I don't know how practical being a bear-biter would be as a job, Scoots. You've gotta keep in mind that what you guys do has to be applicable all your life, not just as a one-off." Scootaloo looked at me funny.
"Well what kinds of jobs are those?" She asked me.
"I dunno. Stunt work on scooters, maybe? Or singing? Maybe building and fixing houses?" I asked her nonchalantly. If nothing else, pushing along the CMCs would probably be a boon to ponyville rather than a crazy bunch of property-destroyers. Or they'd muck it up with cartoon logic and sheer silliness.
"I always ride my scooter places, though!" She said. "I would've gotten my cutie mark forever ago!" I reached behind and ruffled her mane.
"You're not focusing on it, though! You do on all the other tasks, but sometimes fillies and colts forget that Cutie Marks come from something you already do day-to-day, just when you realize how important it is."
"How would you know? I mean, I know you've got some crazy good name-guessing skills, but that doesn't suddenly make you an expert on all things pony!" She yelled back, getting defensive.
"You're right. I don't, so why don't you tell me some things?" I asked as we kept moving across the forest floor. The river was only a short distance now, and they'd soon be meeting with another fellow. Until then...
"Well, uh, what do you want to know?"
"Family? Friends? Birthday? Favorite color or food?" I asked. She was silent for awhile, and I mentally facepalmed for bringing up the biggest and most controversial fan question.
"...Well. I mean, if we count my foster home..." She managed to mumble, and I froze. Of all the stupid, retarded, dumbfuck things you could ask? Really?
"I'm sorry, Scootaloo. I shouldn't have brought it up." I said. She patted my head with a hoof.
"It's not, uh, your fault. Kids at school like Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon are the ones that make it an issue, really." She said, her head lying on my shoulder as I resumed my path.
"How old are you, anyways?" I asked.
"Eleven, why?"
"Just wondering. Anyways, you didn't answer any of my other questions." And she quickly and quietly resumed her jovial attitude. How I loved those days when I could just forget off the cuff, not need to wallow when a sensitive subject came up. Like dying and coming back to life in a strange universe just like a - no. I'm not going to keep at that one.
It was a new day. Not the old ones that had been so somber before. The river's rushing bulk came into view, and the clearing I'd hidden in not so long ago was visible. We stepped into the grassy knoll, just as the sun crested enough to bathe the entire spot in light. A bit breathtaking, as the trees went from dark to brighter green, the sun's light bathing it in rays of brightness, like a singular path straight across the river and on to Ponyville: a yellowbrick road, one which we had to walk.
"Hold on, Scoots" I said, bending down to nab a rock, and tossing it across the water. It skipped several times before hitting the other side, clattering down. Slowly, but surely, the water began to turn into a rush as something big sauntered down it. Scoot tapped my head.
"What's going on?" She asked. I pointed downstream as a blue serpent rounded the corner, spraying a load of water onto the trees on the opposite bank. The golden-hued trees sparkled now, the sun's light pattering off the droplets and further making the scene heavenly.
"Isn't today just GORGEOUS?" Asked a flamboyant voice. I could almost laugh, but I felt like a great weight came off my shoulders in the sunlight, my eyes slowly adjusting to brightness I hadn't seen in forever.
"You could say that." I managed to mutter, too much in awe of the sights. A hoof whacked my head twice more.
"Who is he!" Scoots asked again, and I finally noticed.
"Oh, this is Stache. He's my buddy thats been out in the Everfree for his whole life."
"And I daresay-" Said the Dragon, his head stretching down to be near us. "-Beardo has been the best of company, little pony."
I chuckled, and Scootaloo just rolled her eyes. "Whaaatever." She responded.
"Look, Stache, I need you to remember something for me." I said, and he looked at me puzzled.
"What makes you think I know anything important?" He asked. "I'm just a fellow in a river, after all."
"You could tell me where you got that purple half of your namesake, for starters?" I asked. He cocked his head, and suddenly his realization clicked when he looked at the pony in my bag.
"Ohh! Your little friend is one of the former owner's ilk! I understand. She was a little white and purple one, and gave me part of her tail to fix the dreadful damage a specter of the night did to my originally equal mou-stache! It was the most generous thing I'd ever had happen to me!" He said, and I looked at Scootaloo. Her eyes had the same realization I did on it.
"Rarity." We said in unison.
"Do you remember where she came from? Can you take us there?" I asked. and the beast's head rose, turning around to his tail.
"Why, I owe her a great debt! Getting one of her kind to where she belongs is the least I can do. Climb aboard, Beardo! We've no time to waste!" His scales were surprisingly easy to grip despite the water, and I took up a sitting position near the middle. A jolt and we were moving, the serpent recounting every excruciating detail of the story. Scootaloo already had my headphones in her ears, and I turned on my iTunes copy of Spectrum for her. Appropriate, I thought.
We sailed for a time on the river, before a pathway opened up before us on the riverside. Scootaloo's song had just ended, and she tossed my iPad back into the other bag pocket before squeezing me as we disembarked. "Thanks, Stache. I'll visit when I have time, 'kay?"
"But of course, Beardo! You still need it styled, though!" He said, and we shared some chuckles.
"Did you ever find the sea?" I asked.
"Oh, yes. I'm afraid I'll be spending much more time there. The water tastes more refreshing, you understand?"
"Of course." I allowed. That wasn't exactly how I defined salt water's feeling, but whatever floated his boat, not that he ever needed assistance in floating. We exchanged goodbyes and I and my charge trudged onwards down the pathway, the radiant trees not letting up, until we finally saw a light at the end of the tunnel: with several brown and white buildings, the maroon top of city hall visible on the horizon. A smile crested my face as we reached the forest's edge, and I stepped out into the light.
It bathed my jacket in color I hadn't seen before, and I glanced down on its many tears and scrapes and stains, some from me and others from the very earth itself. Scootaloo shifted on my back, and I heard a yelp as she hit the ground, her wings flapping like a hummingbird. Three of her four legs supported her, and I chuckled a bit as she moved around.
"You're like, one tough cookie, you know that?" She asked, as she saw all of my cuts and scraps and scars in better light. Blood and dirt caked everything, scars from bear claws adorned my face, and my beard was a huge furry mane collecting thickly around my chin, slowly resolving into longer hair rather than fuzz. If I had a mirror, I probably wouldn't know the seventeen year old staring back at it.
But that was okay, you know? "Thanks, Scoots." I zipped up my bag, which looked none worse from Scoot's ride. "You may be a penguin, but penguins can still scare off polar bears."
She turned her head quizically at me: "What's a penguin?"
I laughed, and she pestered me about that as several denziens of ponyville: none of the Mane Six, slowly clamored around us, a few expressing their happiness at Scootaloo's return, and others perplexed by this mammoth of a creature coming in with her, its strange and dangerous appearance otherwise marring their peaceful days.
I should've expected this, and Scootaloo shot me an apologetic glare. I waved her off. A pair of ponies in particular approached us: a rather appropriate tag team of big guy and important official. Big Macintosh and Mayor Mare.
She transfixed me with an analyzing glare, and Big Mac's eyes went nowhere except my appendages, expecting an attack at any moment. "Scootaloo, who's this?" She asked offhand, and Scootaloo quickly buzzed in front of me.
"You'll never believe this story!" She shouted. "Alright, so me and the girls..." I zoned out. I wargamed this one at the shelter already. "..and then a Bear attacked us and he was all like "I can handle this" and I was like "No way" and we both rushed out and battled the big bear and I bit it real hard and it went away crying..."
The two adults looked at me a moment. My head shook. They absentmindedly returned to Scootaloo's story, where we crossed the 'ocean' and conquered the great sea dragon and made it take us all the way back to Ponyville. Obviously a little embellishment on her part. Mayor Mare harumphed and looked at me. "Well, you seem to be more than meets the eye."
"I'll say, seeing as that's about waist level." Badum-tsh. She frowned at me. "I've been in that forest awhile. Excuse me if my appearance is less than stellar and more than a bit scary. Bear fighting, while not nearly as...fantastical as Scootaloo puts it, is a very dangerous business, as you can see." I pointed to the tears and bloodstains.
"Well, so long as that bear fighting doesn't turn into pony hurting, I'm not in any position to deny you access to Ponyville. Celestia is rather adamant on making Equestria an all-encompassing nation for the compassionate and the friendly. Behave, and we'll have no troubles." She said, pointing a hoof at Big Mac. "If not, he'll have words with you."
"Eeeyup."
"That's fantastic!" I said, snickering a little inside. "Now, I suppose we'll probably be taking our first trip to the hospital..." Scootaloo looked up at me and frowned.
"But you've treated me so good! I can still move around!"
"I'm no pony doctor, Scoots, and these cuts need a doctor's TLC rather than an EMT's."
"Oh, fine!" She said, buzzing off. I smiled, as Ponyville sluggishly got back to work. I turned back to the Mayor, Big Mac have disappeared after his 'intimidation' routine.
"How long have you been in Equestria, Mr...."
"Boyle. Alex Boyle." I responded. "About four months. Humans aren't exactly from this planet, so I'll preface by saying I'll probably be the only you'll be seeing around for a long time."
"Really? How'd you get here then?"
"I died." I said nonchalantly. Her eyes went wide under those glasses, peeking around the edges, practically. "Electrical shock. Fell over then woke up here. Not sure if this is purgatory or if I'm just skipping universes now."
"Well, that's..." She seemed to be grasping for the diplomatic word for something.
"Absurd? I know." I responded. She nodded. "Believe me, I wish I was just the guy to invent teleportation." We stood there for a minute, awkward amongst the small crowd of ponies at the market. The sun was bright, brighter than I'd ever seen, and the pastel colors of Ponyville kind of filled me with that feeling of happiness and radiance. Like a massive weight had been blown completely away.
And so I slowly turned away from the mayor, giving her a farewell as myself and Scootaloo entered Ponyville General. After some short conversation, I found myself and my companion on beds, my clothes stacked in a corner and a doctor slowly removing each of my bandages, a most excruciating process. Scootaloo was in the midst of some intense bone restructuring, and the Mane Six were still yet to be seen. I absently wondered where they were, before realizing they probably went in search of us this morning, the CMCs having probably spilled about what happened.
As I finally had my wounds tended and drifted a bit to sleep, I pulled back my curtain to see Scootaloo sleeping there. She'd probably get visitors first, so I was lucky as I put the curtain back in place and slept a dreamless sleep.
Anything was better than nightmares, I guess.
Sunlight bathed me as I awoke on a fine day in Ponyville. My allergies were barely acting at all, and I took a deep breath through my nose: something that on Earth I'd never really been able to do. Ever since Equestria became my home, that had changed. Everything felt less painful, more energized, and just a bit easier. Like gravity was just a bit lighter, and that it changed so much.
I'd say I had a spring in my step, but the fact I was still sitting in a hospital bed wasn't conducive to testing that one. My eyes instead focused on the drawn curtains around me, fencing off two of the three corners of this small space I'd been occupying for most of the night, only occasionally waking to fill my bedpan or at the thought of Pinkie Pie surprising me in my sleep. No such occurances, though, so I was safe for at least the moment. Likely the Mane Six had spent their night searching when I'd gotten their objective back to Ponyville already. But I wasn't really in any condition to go searching for them.
Months of malnutrition, bear-wrestling, and living alone in the wilderness did that to you. Had I not escaped now, survival was probably in question. Hell, had Scootaloo not intervened we'd both be corpses by now, and I'd died once already. That was bad enough, and dying in a painful manner was no way to die in comparison to the last. So I kept my feet planet, and stared out the window, at the ponies and pegasi and unicorns and all the other inhabitants that only appear when story-appropriate, as with Cranky Doodle and his beloved.
The town was even more idyllic than I'd seen yesterday, and the show never did it justice: it was brighter than a magic kingdom, more tranquil than the quietest Zen garden, and filled with good people. Friendly people. Although some like Mayor Mare sometimes took a hard line when they had to. In fact, as far as greetings go I probably got Ponyville's sternest (We're watching you, outlander) of stern welcomes. I chuckled at that, seeing as that was practically the type of human greeting expected by a stranger.
A brown creature with a thick mane entered, a white coat on identifying him as a doctor as much as his red cross cutie mark. I gave him a smile, which seemed to calm him, the tension a bit visible as he first saw me. "Hi there!" I said, and he seemed to lose more of his tension as he approached.
"Hello, I'm Red Cross, and I'm your doctor for as long as you'll be staying in the hospital." He said, extending a hoof. I reached across and shook. He briefly glanced at the chart on my bed. "Doesn't look like that'll be long. You could probably discharge now, but we'd like to keep you to ensure there aren't any major complications, you'll understand?"
"Of course-" I said, nodding, "-I'm Alex."
"Right. It says that right here. You're a "Hu-mahn?", is that right?"
"More or less. Just another species for you guys." I said. The doctor shook his head.
"Hardly. I've never seen one quite as big as you are as a biped. Why, I'm surprised that bear you fought managed to survive the onslaught your friend there described." He said, nodding his head at Scootaloo behind the curtain.
"She does tend to exaggerate. I was never much of a fighter back home, either."
"Yes, well-" He chuckled, "-that's children for you, yes?" He retorted. I nodded back.
"Same for us as you, I suppose."
"Same for all species, it seems." He said. "Now, I'm not really sure on what's a base for you in terms of medical condition, but I assume your cuts will heal rather quickly?"
"Provided nothing major like an artery or big blood vessel was nicked badly, I should be fine. Not much blunt force trauma from a bear fight. He might be worse than me, ultimately." I told him, checking my arm bandages. I was shirtless, so the full extent of my injuries was visibly quite awful. Noticing my upper nudity, I checked under the bed. Huh. "I don't suppose you have my old clothes?"
"They're being washed, at the moment. I noticed your species doesn't have a... ah... carrying place, as it were?" He asked, and I coughed awkwardly.
"Well, ah. Not really." I responded, and he just nodded with an apologetic smile, writing it on a notepad. "We're a clothes-required society, for the most part."
"Understandable. Our local tailor will be your biggest fan, then." He said. "Rarity's her name. Rather generous, she'll probably fix your things up for you when she gets back from looking for Miss Scootaloo over there."
"They're still on the search?" I asked. "I'd figured you guys would have recalled them by now."
"Well-" He began, "We sent somepony to find the searchers and bring them back, but Ditzy Doo isn't exactly known for her haste nor accuracy. It might be a few more hours, or they may be on the way as we speak. It all depends."
"Well, that's nice to know. Who's out searching, exactly?" I asked.
"Well, nobody calls them this in person, you understand, but the Elements of Harmony."
"The who-wha-now?" I asked. Gullible fellow, or perhaps I'd just gotten good at feigning lack of knowledge.
"Well, the Elements of Harmony are six ponies that represent certain traits of harmony. Sort of exemplars if you will. They're average ponies, but can use special gems to defeat great dangers."
"So, like super heroes with less of the paparazzi and serious day jobs?" I asked.
"More or less. We treat them like anybody else, although the people in Canterlot talk about them like mythical heroes. But since we don't really get worked up over the Princess, the elements aren't really anything but a head turner in some areas."
"Alrighty then, thanks for the info. What are their names?"
"Twilight Sparkle, the local librarian, Applejack, a worker at the local family apple farm, Rainbow Dash, one of the weatherponies, Pinkie Pie, a baker at Sugarcube Corner, Fluttershy, an animal caretaker, and Rarity, the tailor I mentioned earlier. They're a colorful bunch, and I recommend hiding from Pinkie Pie." He said, as he checked one of my bandages.
My hand reached out and opened the screen to Scootaloo's half of the room, as Red Cross departed to acquire my clothing. An orange head was turned sideways, a small conversation brewing with some barely visible white and yellow ones on the other side of the bed. I smiled as the Cutie Mark Crusaders kept to their antics, arguing about what happened. Her fault, no her fault! No, HER fault! and all that other childish nonsense.
I just rolled back to face the ceiling and closed my eyes for a bit. It's not like I had bears to fight or anything: damn bears. I drifted a bit, before something pressing on my bed, then another something, and then another, snapped my eyes back open. I slowly craned my head, and six huge beady eyes stared back down at me. I would have freaked out, if it wasn't for the fact that they belonged to three fillies, all observing me expectantly.
"Uh, hi?" I said, and at once a shout made my ears ring.
"THANK YOUUU!" They shouted, and Scootaloo hopped onto the bed.
"This is him, girls! The 'Big Scary Monster' you said took me! He isn't a monster at all!" She said.
"Still scary, tho-mphghhm!" Said Sweetie Belle. Applebloom's hoof stuffed in her mouth before she went any further.
"Don't mind her, mister!" The Apple shouted apologetically. I just laughed.
"I guess I'm quite the sight with all these bear scars, aren't I?"
"I'll say!" Said Sweetie, her hooves holding Applebloom's back. "You look like somebody tried slicing you up with some kitchen knife!"
"You shoulda been there, Sweetie! It was just like that, except the Bear had like five claws! So it was like five kitchen knives, and.." Scootaloo just kept going. I facepalmed and laid back as she sat on my leg, explaining her story as best she could while sitting using the cast. It was... less than comfortable. For the both of us, really.
"Gee, tell them the whole story why don't you?" I asked. Scootaloo looked at me questioningly.
"Didn't you hear me earlier? I already did!"
"Did you? I was too busy zoning out after hearing it the third time." I said, and she turned her head at me.
"But I only told it twice!" She said.
"I'm counting the real story, which I physically experienced." I responded. She was silent, then. "What, no introductions? Just going to sit here and watch me?" I asked the three assembled ponies, which all were rather unenthralled after my little argument.
"Oh... ahhh.... Well this one's Sweetie Belle-" Scootaloo pointed a hoof. Her green eyes perked up and met mine. "-and that one's Applebloom-" Her hoof moved to the bow-haired one, and her eyes snapped to me as well. Scootaloo hopped of my leg - a welcome respite - and squeezed together. "-and we're THE CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS!"
I let out a harumph. And their eyes and ears were downcast. "You're not impressed?" Sweetie Belle asked.
"I think you're not really doing the whole Cutie Mark thing correctly, and I think you've learned that from making half the town scared to death for Scootaloo!" I said, lecturing them.
"We told 'er not to do it!" Retorted Apple Bloom. I nodded.
"Sure, but it still happened. You three can't bank on someone being there to bail you out everytime something bad goes down, and I've learned that pretty hard these past few months." I said. "I got lucky with Scoots and the bear. I would be dead today otherwise."
"Awwhhhh" they all said in unison. I just folded my arms.
"Now it's nice to meet you all, but you should really focus at doing what you're already good at." I said. They all nodded.
"Now, with that lecture done..." I said. "I suppose you'll want to know all about humans?" I asked, and the three shook their heads up and down with vigor. I smiled.
"Well, we come from a land far, far away, beyond even this planet..." And so I told them, embellishing the tale like a true con artist, until they were satisfied by the explanations I gave to the myriad questions they had for me afterwards. Liberal copyright infringement upon the Star Trek, Star Wars, and Stargate fandom abound, mostly to mess with them rather than to deliberately misinform. Red Cross, on delivering my clothes, caught on quickly that the story I was telling was hardly the truth.
By the end, they were practically exhausted just from the thousands of questions they asked, and Scootaloo climbed back into bed. I sighed, and stretched once more, digging into the strange flower-and-hay sandwich before me. Seeing as physics and even feeling was different here, I figured why not?
Didn't taste too bad, overall. Not my best food, but good enough grub to be eaten. Maybe Pony food was heavily reinforced or just naturally more nutritious than their earthen counterparts, but whatever. Sweetie Belle couldn't seem to get over my scary scars and such, and I had to explain to her how every cut came to be. Probably just some attention to detail rubbing off from Rarity's constant moaning and judging. She warmed up to me, though, by the time she headed back to Carousel Botique.
Apple Bloom had an inkling of falsehood in my tale, and spent most of her questions trying to poke holes in my tales. But I'd been trained by the best of the best, my dad the salesman, to avoid that kind of questioning. I left her frustrated and annoyed, but to each her own. Scootaloo just accepted my tale, with occasional cries of "Awesome!" and "Cool!" like I'd suddenly become Rainbow Dash. But, then again, Rainbow Dash didn't beat the snot out of bears every day.
And I was taller, but y'know.
As visiting hours closed, I frankly wondered how exactly the Mane Six hadn't been contacted yet. But if this 'Ditzy Doo' was as - Wait, DUH. Ditzy = Derpy. No WONDER they hadn't gotten back yet, with her on the recall notice. They'd probably get it sometime at midnight and have to walk all the way back in the darkness, getting lost half a hundred times.
Scootaloo turned to me: "Hey. Uh, Alex?" She asked me. I turned and nodded. "When my friends come tomorrow, try and be less dad and more cool, 'kay?"
"Sure, Scoots. Just keep in mind what I've been saying. I know you three's type, and all it does is make what you're trying to cause take even longer. You could be so blind to your real talent that you never find it."
"Oh, fine. Whatever, DAD." She said, tossing a pillow on her head. "It was cooler when you were fighting bears."
"You got to skip the wounds and pain. Of course you'd think that." I said, as she slowly drifted off. Another day in Ponyville, and another day without the Mane Six. A little crazy, that I'd been teleported here and STILL not seen them yet.
No matter, though. Hopefully they'd be back soon. And, with another day thoroughly wasted doing nothing, I slowly drifted to bed in my comfortable - but far too short - hospital bed, I remembered an old song I'd heard a long time ago. It seemed oddly fitting in this technology free world.
Juuuust sit right back and you'll hear a tale...
Of Clothes and Coincidences
"Omigosh I've never seen someone like you before, your huge like the princesses but not really discord sized and I don't think you can make chocolate rain but I bet you could give awesome piggyback rides and there's no real place to pin a tail on you so I guess that game won't be part of the repetoire but what can you do? I'm Pinkie Pie by the way and I looooove to party and we're going to throw you a big old hero party because people like you totally deserve hero parties for fighting bears and wrestling sea dragons and saving Scootaloo from being alone with a broken leg in the wilderness! It'll be the best bear-serpent-rescuer hero party in Equestrian history! Now I'll ne-" My white pillow, which was too small for me, anyways, whailed her in the face to give me a brief respite.
Even still, her mouth still created a horrifically bothersome series of muffled noises behind said pillow, which was still stuck to her face. I sort of expected something like that, and turned to the rest of the people that didn't nearly as badly disturb my sleep. All four of them, rather than the usual six. The absence of the rainbow maned and stetson-ensembled duo was noted, but noise from Scootaloo's section told me the former was present. "Uh, hi?" I said.
"Hello, stranger!" Started the magician of the group: "I'm Twilight Sparkle, and these are my friends, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, and myself. Two of my fellow compatriots are missing, unfortunately, but Rainbow Dash is over speaking with Scootaloo right now. Applejack has lots of work to catch up on from being out searching for the little pegasus, after all."
"Understandable, I guess." I said. It was a bit awkward suddenly being awoken. The morning was as stellar as before, although Pinkie's pink mass was obscuring it and bathing the room in a pinkish hue. I'd initially thought somebody had spiked my IV with acid or something, and the initial conversation hadn't helped matters much. "So, uh, did you need something from me?"
"Well..."
"Uh..."
"Mphmhhm..."
"It's just a normal thing for us to do, I guess?" Asked Twilight Sparkle. "I mean, it seems like every time some new creature shows up in Ponyville it's our job to introduce them to everypony and solve all their issues at once."
Did she literally just spell out the trope? Wow. "Well, I'm pretty sure the crazy party Pinkie Pie should be off planning and setting up for will handle all of that, right?" I asked. The Party Pony wiped the pillow off her face and shot into the air, suddenly flying out of the room in a pink flash. I wiped my brow in relief. "Thank god that's over."
"That's an awful thing to say, darling!" Said Rarity. "She may be a bit...overzealous. But she means well, at the least."
"What, no commentary on my clothes? I'm surprised you're not gagging at them yet." I asked, and she looked shocked.
"That wasn't a tarp? My goodness!" She suddenly exclaimed, picking up the multicam jacket. "This... ugh! Too utilitarian. Who would ever want something so droll and dark in their inventory. So many pockets... and these pants! Awful!"
"Glad you think so." I said sarcastically. Twilight looked at me knowingly. I turned over to Fluttershy, who was just sitting in the corner with her mane covering her face. "Looks like your number three isn't too happy to be dragged into this."
"Oh, that's just Fluttershy. She's just extremely shy." She said, and I laughed. At the mention of her in the conversation, the Pegasus further retreated into the corner, shrinking to almost microscopic levels.
"Hi there, Fluttershy." I said, and a tiny whimper met my ears. I looked over at Twilight, and shrugged. "I guess today isn't my day."
"She'll come around. Anyways, welcome to Ponyville! Sorry if Mayor Mare gave you a scare when you arrived, she's not normally the one that handles that sort of situation as I've stated before. Performance anxiety and all that probably made it more fearful and confusing than necessary."
"Hey, I've had worse." I said. "They could have shut themselves indoors and made up scary tales, or something."
"Eh...hehe..." Said Twilight, her eyes darting. It was cheating to use all my knowledge against them, but hilarious at the same time. Trollestia doesn't have shit on me, suckers. The curtain pulled back a bit, and Red Cross entered, showing his dismay at the pair fussing all over my hospital bed, and the other hiding in the corner.
"Ladies! This gentlecolt is expected to have time to HIMSELF. That is not an exception for even Princess Celestia's best student, not to mention her friends." Twilight hung her head at the good doctor's rescue attempt, and I just beamed at him. "However-" he paused, focusing on me, "-this fellow is also formally discharged. Your clothes are there, and Mayor Mare expects you at her office sometime in the next few hours. I suggest you move along quickly: and evade any flying pink objects while en-route. Try not to scare anypony, as well."
"I'll try, doc." I said, tossing off the covers and crawling out of bed in nothing but my shirt and boxers. Rarity cringed at my rather soiled attire.
"This will simply not do! Once you've seen the mayor, I must simply DEMAND you visit my botique. Never have I had a clothes-wearing species before... ohhh, all the business!" She gushed. I facepalmed as my muddied and dirtied pants went on, along with my boots and socks. I'd thankfully avoided trenchfoot: god knows how, probably thanks to the low bacteria on this planet. Not like anything was tailored towards humans, after all, so it had a tough time against the hardy human immune system.
Oh well. The trio departed with a farewell, a demand to arrive at the botique, and a squeak. My sleeves rolled once more, my backpack back in place, and my iPhone out, I ventured out the doors and into Ponyville proper, the brightness as I entered the main square quite refreshing. A far cry from the always droll and dark earth, or even the Everfree, now that I thought about it.
Ponies gawked at me - that was expected. A few even came up to chat, mainly thanks for helping Scootaloo return. She'd be staying in the hospital awhile longer, but until I was set up I didn't really have time to visit. For the most part, the issues seen in Bridle Gossip were gone, although Xenophobia was still rather obvious as I made my way down the street. I felt like I was a tank of a man walking through a rich people's neighborhood, with my every friendly gesture looking more like a threat.
I sighed and made my way into the town hall, its large size separating it from the remainder of the buildings in the area. Its large foyer was interesting, but empty, and the light shone in rather interesting ways as I made my way into the clearly-marked office. Of course the language is English, why wouldn't it be?
Mayor Mare was hard at work, with Doctor Who- Time Turner, my apologies, working on a large clock mechanism in the office. He looked at me with much trepidation as I entered, although the Mayor kept her face rather calm. "Good morning, Alex." She said.
"Hi." I responded. "What's this about?"
The Mayor's head went below her desk for a minute, the rattle of drawers telling me this wasn't going to be pretty. A stack of papers found their way onto the desk. "I've had a chat with Miss Scootaloo while you've been lolling in the hospital. Combine that with reports from your Sea Serpent that Twilight Sparkle grilled for information, tells me that you're probably going to want to stay in Ponyville, rather than travel back into the wilderness. Am I correct?" She asked.
"Uh. I guess?" I said. "I haven't really thought about it."
"Well," she said, patting the stack. "This is what's required for Equestrian citizenship, healthcare, and legal residency in the Royal District of Equestria and the town of Ponyville." She said, separating the stacks. "There's a desk over there."
Damn.
It took a few hours. Having to BS roughly fifty percent of it and get a crash course in Equestrian time and calendars took roughly FOREVER, and then translating that into standard dating was insane. But, by the end, I had free healthcare and a bunch of official looking documents, which I promptly tossed into my backpack. I gave the Mayor my farewell, which she scoffed off, and I made my way back into the streets, the high sun telling me it was noon. Or was that my infini-charge iPhone? Hm.
Travelling down the roads and byways, I was astounded at just how damned perfect every single inch of this town was. I was sure it wasn't great by Equestrian standards, but this was just magnificent. Even the prettiest of places on Earth just didn't do it justice, the buildings arranged just so to make shadows of interesting shapes and sizes, the sun itself not even painful to view but just as radiant, and the ground so clean it's almost as if ponies didn't have waste at all. It merely poofed out of existence, it seemed.
Again, the looks and fearful movements, the huge eyes staring up, and on occasion the fearless one that said hello. A few children even followed me closely, one even taking some pictures. Hopefully I wouldn't end up in some gossip column or another: that was the last thing I needed. It occurred to me as I passed through the market, making a huge hole just by approaching a direction, that I was broke.
That's always fun. Maybe making tools and doing things ponies couldn't dream of might work? Fine manipulation, massages of stellar quality. Hmm... The form of Carousel Boutique appeared on the horizon as I turned a corner, somehow finding my way around town despite having never seen it in the third dimension. I guess, like the show, the route to your destination just seems to happen rather than make sense.
Or I had just seen it earlier. Whatever. I briefly considered escaping from the pending insanity to come, but I decided it was better to face her ladyship now rather than risk her ire later. Besides, free clothes! And these old ones have one too many slashes in them. I mean, it may have been in style to have torn up pants back home, but still: grungy and messy is hardly something appreciated in ponyville, and probably a large part of why I'm so looked upon with strangeness.
I opened the door onto the extravagant botique and entered, to find it relatively empty. Puzzled, I stepped deeper within, only to hear a loud clopping from the stairwell: a purple and pink, curly-maned filly slowly descending, her eyes downcast. As she slowly descended and crossed the threshold, I remained silent. Whatever Sweetie Belle's issue was, I wasn't about to make it any of my business. Little girl troubles were hardly my pervue, even on the best of days.
As I shifted a bit, her ears perked and eyes opened, turning to face me. I moved to wave and smiled, and her eyes grew wider with horror. "MONSTERR!" She screamed in terror, and rushed into the kitchen, shutting herself inside one of the cabinets and making the entire counter shake. I looked down at the ground and sighed, shaking my head.
From the top of the stairs, a faster and heavier set of clops came, Rarity's purple mane a bit ruffled from running down the stairs. "Sweetie Belle! Don't insult our guests, dear!" She shouted out into the kitchen, barely acknowledging me in the process. Sweetie Belle cracked the cupboard a bit, and inched her head out. "This is the fine gentlecolt that saved one of your best friends, and I expect you to treat him like the gracious and fantastical hero she holds him to be. Appearance is hardly everything, as you know."
Sweetie Belle laughed. "My sister, saying appearance isn't everything?" The laughter redoubled, and I let out a single chuckle. "Sorry, mister. Didn't recognize you with the tallness and all." Rarity's eyes narrowed as she turned to face me.
"What, you think I'm shallow?" She asked me. "You hardly even know me, dear!"
"Well, I mean, Scootaloo said he had these weird knowledge powers that lets him know some people really well." Responded Sweetie Belle, returning to the room but keeping her eyes locked on me. "Sorry I didn't recognize you before, by the way. The hospital's a bit different than suddenly appearing in the foyer."
"Whatever does she mean?" Asked Rarity.
"Er... Long story? We can finish it some other time. I just stopped by because you wanted me to." I said, brushing off Sweetie Belle.
"But what if you know what my Cutie Mark is supposed to be? Can't you at least tell me that?" She asked, with pleading eyes.
"Singing." I responded in an even tone. Her eyes widened and she disappeared up the stairs in a flurry of movement, momentarily upsetting Rarity's mane. The tailor quickly opened a door with her magic and levitated a brush to it, fixing the offending damage. "Now, what did you want from me, exactly?"
"Oh, your measurements, of course! I'll need to see your range of motion to make clothes accordingly, as well, seeing as you obviously have totally different requirements from quadrupeds like ponies." She said, approaching me as she put the brush away. A hoof pushed my arm up, and she viewed it with a critical eye. "Hmm..."
As she used her hooves and magic to manipulate all of my appendages (which got awkward fast in certain areas), we talked about a lot of boring subjects, mostly related to her love of courtly love and all things fashion. I wasn't a fashion person, but I did know my camouflage and concealment, so she learned a bit about the "uses" of clothing besides looking good. Dress uniforms, especially, were of interest to her.
"Now, then." She said, tossing away the last of some dozens of tapes she'd used on me. "This will be a most excellent challenge."
"Well I'm happy to help." I said, rubbing the afflicted area. She was too used to Pony sized creatures to find a proper human-rated measuring tape. It was... less than pleasant. "Know anywhere I would be able to stay, at least until I got on my own two feet?" I asked. She looked perplexed at the last part, and I chalked that to the disconnect.
"Well, Fluttershy has lots of room at her cottage... Applejack has some room on the farm, but that's really for helpers on the farm... Twilight probably has room in her library. I've got a spare bedroom here, of course, and those hands would probably be marvelous help... Hm. I doubt you'd want to stay with Pinkie Pie? She can be quite rambunctious. Can humans float on clouds?"
"Uh, no,"
"That crosses of Rainbow Dash. But really, any of us will probably do. What're your skills? Besides convincing young fillies that you know their cutie marks, of course." She said, giving me a hard look. I smirked at her.
"Whatever makes them stay safe, I guess." I lied. "Uh, beating up bears? Living in the wilderness? Lots of basic stuff, really."
"Ah. Well, I'm sure Fluttershy could always use assistance at her cottage? We really have been pushing her to be a bit more conversational. Less assertiveness, since that last time went badly, but just some ability to hold a conversation, you understand?" She said.
"Well, I'd feel awful untoward if I just barged-"
"Oh, heavens no! I'll just introduce you all formally and come in for tea. She'll warm right up, I assure you."
"Alright..." I said, extremely certain that that was a load of crap.
Rarity and I made our way over to Fluttershy's cottage, the half-hour walk slowly draining my patience as she prattled from inane subject to inane subject. At least I didn't have to do much talking: no wonder she and Fluttershy got along so well. It wasn't even like she was my least favorite pony, just that it kind of wore on you after so long, y'know?
We approached the front door, the local animals half-wary and half-hiding, Rarity extended a hoof to knock on the door. "I'm sure Fluttershy will love to have you over. She always needs help with the animals, especially the bigger ones. Once she gets to kno-"
The door opened, and a little yellow Pegasus was shadowed by a big shape behind her. "Ah, Fluttershy. I had just brought over this fine gentlecolt..." I gulped and sweat ran down my brow. Flight or fight kicked in, with the former circled for once.
"Uh, Rarity, that's not the be-" A roar deafened my ears, and a paw flung in my direction. I fell to the ground with my chest stinging, and the shape of my arch-nemesis, hereby named 'George' collapsed onto all fours as a pair of ponies gasped in horror, the bear's teeth gnashing and another bloodcurdling roar met my ears...
DUN DUN DUNNNNN
