Night Trotter
Prologue
Luna’s moon glimmered in the dark night above Equestria. Regal unicorns in masquerade masks reveled at the sight from a balcony in Canterlot castle. A group of pegasi in Cloudsdale spread their wings so that their feathers could glisten against the soft light. It was a sight many had come to appreciate in the years following the return of Nightmare Moon and her subsequent defeat. Now every night individuals all across Equestria and the surrounding states would pause to show a bit of reverence and utter a quiet thank you anytime they saw the waning glow in the sky.
Unfortunately, not all ponies had the chance to admire the princess’s work in full that night. A single Pegasus, with a pink mane and even pinker coat, slowly trotted through the crisp night air with an insulated cloak draped over her body, hood rasping against her fur with each passing step. Every quiet hoofbeat was further dampened by the moistened ground. The street was black since almost every store was closed, the only light coming from the lanterns hung on a rarely passing carriage and the full moon hovering at her zenith. As was her custom, she halted for just a moment to look at the moon's glow. It was a beautiful sight, especially tonight with the entire disc visible, she thought.
She remembered back to when she first heard Luna had been reset upon her throne. Stalliongrad hadn't received the news for many weeks after the event, as the media often downplayed anything that happened in neighboring Equestria. But no matter how hard the city's leadership tried, it was impossible to keep ponies from talking about something that big. When the mare heard about it, and saw the picture of the princess on the front page of a newspaper clipping, she immediately felt a sort of connection to the moon. Her job often caused her to leave for home when the stars were out, and so the pink pony had grown accustomed to stopping and thanking Luna for the light that guided her in the late hours.
Her thoughts were taken away from the moon by a hoofbeat from somewhere behind. She turned, unnerved, but didn't see anyone. So, without further ado, she made a quick bow and continued on her way. Not without keeping in mind the caution she had to take with being out even later than normal. She had witnessed secondhand just how dangerous it could be to let your guard down. Ever since she had the misfortune of witnessing a stallion pulled into a mugging, she instinctively strode a few inches away from the buildings every time she passed an alley.
Stalliongrad was never a particularly safe place when the sun went down, a statement this pink pony would certainly agree upon as she began to notice the hooded figure behind her. She couldn’t believe he just appeared without her noticing. Thinking back to the mugging she witnessed caused her heart to pick up in beat and her breathing quickened. She stepped up her trot a little to test her pursuer’s intentions. Her fears were confirmed when the other pony behind her sped up as well.
She cursed under her breath. She knew better than to be out at this time, but her boss ordered her to finish the big project tonight no matter what it took; still, the mare didn’t want it to cost her life. She promised that if she survived the night, this would be her last day working for such a demanding employer. But there was no time to think about that, first she had to slip away from whoever was behind her. Ahead, she saw the light poles of the main street coming into view. She would just step into the larger crowd and that would be it--the pony behind her would have no choice but to disperse and find some other target.
The mare snapped out of her thoughts when she heard her pursuer begin to gallop. She followed suit and headed straight for the main street. When she got there, however, she realized it was just as lonely as the road she had come from. Hearing her pursuer getting closer, she dashed to the right. Lights on store signs began stretching as her pace increased. She unfolded her wings from her side for the first time in ages. She gave them a test flap, feeling the wind rush under and over, vibrating her feathers. She had never actually flown before, so whatever technique pegasi used to keep themselves airborne was unknown to her. But she had to try.
She jumped on a vendor’s stand and leaped for the air. Her wings flapped furiously and her legs flailed for something to grab on to. She resembled a drowning foal more than anything that might actually fly. She managed to land on her hooves, her rainboots clapping against the concrete of the main street sidewalk. She staggered for a moment, then her pursuer stepped stepped so close she could feel it vibrate when it hit the ground. Her heart skipped a beat and her eyes shot open, she jumped forward with a yelp and continued running, doing all she could to lengthen her step.
Half a minute of running and failed flapping, she realized she could not shake the hooded figure. Ahead she saw wagon cart laying on the side of the road and slid under it, hoping the manuever would giver her a few extra steps. Dodging a carriage that was traveling through the street at a leisurely pace, she had made it to the other side of the street.
But the figure was ever persistent. The pegasus desperately looked for something that could help, but she was running out of ideas. Swallowing her fear, she nearly tripped when she jumped into an alley way. She and her pursuer dodged passed dumpsters and knocked over trashcans in a game of cat and mouse, prompting alley rats to scamper away. The mare was almost stopped by a ten foot gate in the path, but looking back to see her pursuer clambering over a trash can forced her forward. She managed to scramble over some stacked boxes leaning against the fence and found herself standing near the top, a sheer drop down to the wet dirt ten feet below.
Again, she swallowed her fear, spreading her wings for one last attempt. A cross breeze blew by, rustling her feathers and giving her hope that maybe she would at least land softly.
But the stationary, Earth-pony favoring lifestyle of Stalliongrad’s citizens left the pegasi ill-suited for flight, and she realized at that moment she was doomed the second she headed into the alley.
As her legs carried her body over the fencing, they failed to pull her cloak with her. The garment caught on the planks as she jumped. Her head and neck were jarred backward and her body fell against the fence, hanging a mere inches from the ground. Not only could her body not take air in, it couldn’t let it out, and her lungs began screaming in pain as she became aware of their constant pumping. She flailed for a moment before the last stitches finally ripped, dropping her to the ground in a puddle where she could finally exhale and cough. The breath came rushing back, and she realized how fuzzy her vision had become.
For a moment she had completely forgotten about her pursuer. Looking around, she could see nothing resembling the hooded pony, and skyward there was nothing but the moon disappearing behind the alley top. For a second, she thought that whoever it was had given up, but a metallic clanking from the other side proved otherwise. A loud huff rang from behind her, and she looked up, bewildered, to see a trashcan tipping from the top of the fence. The blurry sight grew astonishingly quickly once it finally surrendered to gravity. The can knocked the air out of her when it landed, pinning her down with a splash into the puddle beneath. She tried to stand, but a sharp pain in her back forced her back down. The weight of the can was too much. Her wing repeatedly slapped at it to no avail. And then she saw a hoof step in front of her.
The mare looked up to see as the figure pulled back his hood, revealing the dirty face of a dark blue stallion with an evil look in his eyes. Her ears laid back and her head lowered. The stallion gave a sinister grin, revealing two rows of disfigured, brown teeth. She began screaming for help, but the bystanders at the end of the alley simply walked by. The figure chuckled, enjoying the futile efforts the mare had been making the whole time he’d been chasing her. And now she was here, stuck like a rodent in a trap. He somewhat enjoyed her screaming, but he knew that eventually someone may come to help, so he decided to keep her quiet.
Stepping forward, he knew just the way to hush the little mare. He kicked the trash can to the side and, shifting his weight forward, stomped with his full force on her snout. “Look at the mouth on you,” he teased, not releasing his hoof for a second. “Normally I would just let ya' keep going, it makes the game a little more fun.” Her eyes widened in fear as the stallion pulled a blade from his saddle bag and held it in her line of sight. “But if you feel the urge to scream again," he brandished the knife so that its sharp edge shone against the moonlight, “then I’ll have to deal with that pretty little tongue of yours.” The mare’s vision was blurring from the tears she had only just noticed, but she could still see the glint of the stainless steel and make out the blade's serrated bits covered with dirt and mud.
For further emphasis, the stallion lowered his head and tapped the tip of the blade against her lip. Although unaware of it, the pink pegasus was shaking, almost to the point of a seizure. It didn’t help that her now ragged clothes and feathers were soaking in a muddy puddle, but the air had become very cold as she lay there with her assaulter’s hoof on her snout. The night was not going to be pleasant, she could see, and was unsure whether she really wanted to survive it. That unrestrained thought made her choke, and she began gasping for breath, prompting the stallion to remove his hoof. The mare coughed and spat, trying to cry as silently as she could so not to make her situation any worse.
The mare nearly shouted again as yet another example of societies upstanding citizens passed the end of the alley without pause, but she thought better of it. The stallion noticed his victims' correction and snickered.
"Good. I think we understand each other."
Elated, the stallion dragged her a few feet from the fence to give himself room. He slipped his saddle bag off and tossed the knife absentmindedly to the side. “Now stay still and quiet. Let me do as I please and you’ll wake up tomorrow relatively alive." His mouth salivated in anticipation as he mentally went through his list of favourite actions.
The skin on the pegasus’ back tightened. She felt the stallion rest his weight on top of her, his breath creeping on her neck. Her folded wings were lowered even farther onto the dirty ground. He sniffed her mane deeply and shivered with excitement, letting out an audible, chill breath. A tongue slithered around the rim of her ear, and a low, saliva filled voiced whispered something that made her pupil’s dilate.
Whatever he said, it was the final blow. It was all the incentive the mare needed to stay quiet and still. She even held her breath, careful not to make any noise. This is the night, she thought, this is how I die. The practical side of her mind told her that she would be okay, she was just going through a traumatic situation. Then again, a larger part of her mind hoped that she would go into shock where she lay, or that her attacker would have the decency to incapacitate her.
And if death or unconsciousness did not visit her, she firmly believed that this would a be a night that she would remember for years.
There's no way I can go back from this.
There's no way out.
I'll never escape what happens tonight.
She had no idea how right she was...
Just when she had sucked her breath in, just as the disgusting creature on top of her was about to begin his games, a sound, similar to when a limb quickly and break the air, interrupted her fear. It was such a small disturbance that had she not been so determined to not make a single unnecessary motion, she swore she wouldn't have heard it. Pink eyelids blinked, she tried to clear her eyes as best she could, and noticed something spinning low to the ground. It was quick in its movement, but seemed to stay perfectly level on its journey. Momentarily hypnotized by the motion, she silently uttered, “What’s that?”
Her assaulter’s pre-game excitement was obstructed when he looked up to see the object arriving from where the alley met the street. He stared inquisitively for a few seconds, almost entranced, then ducked to avoid when he realized it was getting bigger. It whizzed passed, clipping a few hairs off the top of his mane which fell sporadically through the air. Then the object disappeared through the slits of the fence.
The stallion’s mouth dropped at the site of the splintering left behind on the wooden boards, so he didn't expect it when he turned back to see a dark figure on the other end of the alley. From the street lights, a shadow darker than the alley itself reached forward, it's terminal point resting in front of the mare's nose. It could be seen from the little part of light that always manages to creep around contours that the figure was wearing something that was pale green and yellow; however, the center of the shape remained black and ominous.
"What the..." The stallion was dumbfounded, unsure of what to make of what he was seeing, more than partially because his mind was still raging with hormones. After a moment, the attacker did a double take. He looked at the phantom at the end of the alley, then at the disparaged mare underneath him and immediately resolved to defend the night's take. He stood, annoyed at being interrupted, and took on a more threatening stance.
“What the buck are you?” he barked.
The figure stepped forward a few feet, completely silent against the moist dirt, and the mare could begin to make out some of the detail on it. The head had a black mask with dark green lenses where the eyes should be, and the body had a green uniform with yellow streaks running from head to tail. The stallion became a little unnerved, not having been interrupted like this before.
“Can’t you see I’m busy here?!”
The figure began walking forward again, taking one step every few seconds. As it approached its appearance became clearer, but the demeanor remained as dark as the alley. The mare swore closing her eyes tightly escape the situation. A moment ago she had seen the darkest life could be; somehow, this figure made everything seem even worse.
“Let the lady go.” Now she definitely didn't expect it to talk. The voice was low and a bit airy, having had barely an echo. The sentence seemed to cause the air to come to a standstill. No breathing could be heard, no white noise came from random places, even the wind seemed to have surrendered in either anticipation or fear.
Out of fear, the stallion jerked his head round, searching for his dirty knife, which he found directly to his right. He wrapped his foreleg around the mare's neck and heaved her upward from her stationary position, painfully holding most of her weight by her neck. Unfortunately, the direction which he pulled her forced her legs to be in front of her. She had no effective way to hold herself up and take the weight off her neck. Her wings splashed on the puddles, at least trying to hold her up.
Holding his blade sideways in his mouth, the stallion angled the sharp edge to be at his victim's throat and began backing away just as fast as the masked figure was still approaching. The mare, seeing that her wing flaps were futile, held on to her attacker's hoof for dear life, pulling herself up to catch an infrequent breath. Tears began to flood the pink pony’s eyes. She couldn't tell which was more painful--his leg dragging her weight by her neck, or the knife with the serrated edge, filled with mud and dirt, beginning to dig into her fur. She could feel the blade already making and indent in her skin.
In an attempt to understand his situation, the stallion continued to shout. “Stop moving! What’s your name?!” Fear was evident in his voice by now. And admittedly, he didn't care about the mare anymore; he just wanted out. This caused him to begin shaking, and consequently his blade made it's first obstruction into the mare’s skin. She yelped loudly, breaking the relative silence, firmly believing her throat had been slit. When she realized she was still breathing, more tears escaped from her. It seemed whatever force had caused this fateful night was not willing to give her a way out.
The figure halted its advance, maintaining an unnaturally eerie demeanor. It looked a bit to the left, then to the right, then tilted its head ever so slightly, as if waiting for a signal. The sound of wings beat through the air a moment and disappeared. The figure straightened itself and looked back at the stallion who was now shaking in fear, causing the knife to shave a few furs off the mare’s neck. “Duck,” the figure stated, his voice barely carrying.
The stallion’s face was rolling with sweat, “What?! I swear, you don’t answer me, I’ll cut. I’ll cut real deep!” He took a deep breath, “Now stop moving!”
The mare was pawing at the stallion’s leg around her neck. “Please,” she pleaded to the dark figure, “stop. Do what he says,” she squeezed her eyes shut as her assaulter tightened his grip, “It hurts.”
“Answer me,” he repeated himself, “ What’s your name?!”
“Duck!”
The stallion pulled the knife closer to the pink pony, beginning a cutting motion. He had it planned out now; he would kill the mare, kick the fence in, and make a run for it while whatever it was that was talking to him raced to save her. His motion caused a few furs to fly into the air, and the mare felt the inevitably fate finally claiming her. But at the last possible moment, the spinning object came back through the slit in the fence. It bounced upward, ricocheting off the back of the stallion’s head. Somewhere in his body a bone could be heard snapping and he toppled forward through the air, dropping his blade and leaving the mare crawling to the wall, wings spread, gasping for air yet again.
When he was reunited with the ground, he felt pain throughout his body. He had what felt like a concussion from the object, bruises on his chest from impacting the ground, and blurry eyes caused by a debilitating headache. He opened his eyes as much as he could, just making out the figure catching the object in its teeth. The figure bent downward to clean its weapon in the puddle the stallions face was laying in. He could see splinters from the fence and hairs from his own mane wash off from the edge of the object. It was a wide, green v-shape with a circular design at the base of the V and yellow lines curving away from this to the tips. The figure then sheathed his weapon into a pocket on the right side of his suit.
The stallion tried to lift himself up, but was stopped when a mighty hoof stomped on his snout. He winced in pain, but managed to move his eyes upward. The figure glared down at him and in an airy voice said “Fair warning. I told you to duck.” The figure pressed down harder on his snout. “Doesn’t feel good. Does it?” He tried to let out a yelp, but choked from the attempt. The pressure from the hoof was making it impossible to breath, and he could feel himself sinking away.
The figure waited a few moments before lifting his hoof finally, prompting the stallion to gasp and cough just as his victim had earlier. This was not what he bargained for. All he could think of was how he could get out now, but all hope seemed lost for any escape.
Just like his victim.
After a moment, he heard the voice call at him, “Hey! Look at me.” He wiped his eyes and obeyed, lifting himself to a sitting position. When he finally dared to listen to the order, he saw the figure was with its back to him. It reared onto its front legs and pulled in its back hooves to get ready for a kick.
It turned its head to the stallion to look him in the eyes. The stallion couldn’t see the figures face, but the goggles did the job of striking the fear they seemed to intend. The figure inhaled sharply and uttered the last words the blue stallion would ever hear. “Buck you.” With that, back hooves went loose, kicking the stallion in the chest. The mare watched in amazement as her assaulter tumbled through the air and crashed through the fence. What was even more amazing was the fact that he did not get back up. Still weary, she turned toward the figure, which was now walking threateningly towards her.
She was still unsure of what was going on or what to do and her heart began racing again. She scrambled away as best she could, only to find that her back legs weren't working. The figure’s face turned from a dark demeanor to one of worry, and it rushed up to her. “Wait! Please, don’t move too much, you might hurt yourself.” The voice had suddenly changed to a slightly higher pitched, raspy voice. Although the change did little to help.
The mare leaned herself up against a trashcan as the suited figure approached. Tears were flooding her eyes again and she spoke between sobs, “Please, don’t hurt me! I’m not worth your time, just go!” She flailed her hooves in front of her to keep it away, knocking the figure in the face and forelegs, but it was no use. It moved its hoof upward and she flinched, expecting to be struck, but instead felt a hoof stroking her mane and come to rest on her shoulder.
“Shhh,” The voice took on one more change, one the mare could decided was probably her favorite of the night. The voice was soft, and came from a stallion, “Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you.” He moved his hoof to raise her head
She looked up, meeting the strangers gaze. His mask no longer seemed threatening, and his smile calmed her heartbeat some. Blinking, she asked “What are you doing?”
“Helping you. We should really get you to the hospital.” Now that she was calm, he moved his hoof from her mane, “Can you walk?”
The pink pony thought before she replied. Was it really a good idea to interact with this thing? What if he's just another rapist? She weighted her options carefully, but realized there was no way out of this by herself. Gathering up her courage and hoping she was making the right choice, she answered. “I don’t think so.”
“Just a moment.” The figure said before he walked behind a trashcan for a moment. The mare was in too much pain to inquire as to what the figure was doing, but she wasn’t interested anyway. She could tell that more than just her legs were hurt. She could have sworn her nose was broken from how hard the attacker stomped on it, her neck was cut, her wings were a mess, and her chest was burning. It didn’t help that her clothing and fur were still soaked with muddy water.
She was pulled out of her thoughts when she heard the figure come back from behind the trashcan. But this time the figure didn’t have a green-lensed mask and a green and yellow suit. This time it was a yellow earth pony with a dark brown mane and a gray, freckled snout. His hooves were large and colored like his snout with long furs hanging over them. He had a strap on his back holding the sheathed V-shaped object the figure used earlier, this time on the left, and a cutie mark that matched the object.
“Here,” He said as he bent down in front of her, motioning the mare to get on his back. Without question, she lifted herself up enough to get her front legs over his neck, and he grabbed on to them to help pull her up. After a moment of fidgeting, her weak wings doing little to help stabilize, she lay on top of his back with her forelegs holding onto his neck. After checking once more to see if see was able to hold on, he carried her out of the alley and onto the sidewalk, back into the population and store signs.
“Where are we heading?” the mare inquired.
He stopped at the end of the block to let some carriages pass, “Hospital. We need to get you fixed up.”
“But I don’t have any money.”
He sighed as he crossed the street. Thinking for a moment, he responded, “Don’t worry about that, I’ll be paying.”
She held on tighter while he trotted to make it to the other sidewalk, “Why?”
“Because you’re seriously injured. You might have something worse than you know.”
“Not that. I mean, why did you help me? Earlier I yelled out, but nopony helped.”
He smiled as they passed a few carolers on a corner. They were entering a nicer part of Stalliongrad at this point, and closing in on the hospital. “It’s what I do. Those ponies should have helped. They would want someone to in the same situation.” The answer didn’t explain much to the mare, nor did it make her feel better.
They traveled silently for a few minutes. She didn’t understand how this night went from walking home by herself to a hospital visit ordered by a random helpful stranger.
When she thought about her attacker, she felt she had to ask, “Is he going to be okay?”
“Huh, you mean that guy who attacked you?” He could feel the mare nod to confirm it. “No. That thing I hit him with was tipped with some chemicals. He’s going to fall asleep if I didn’t knock him out, but he’s not going to wake up. It’s not exactly the best way to deal with his kind, but it’s not like the city guards will do anything about it.”
The mare tightened her grip on her rescuers neck as they approached the hospital, considering what he just said. “Do you do this often? How does it benefit you?”
He pushed open the doors to the medical facility and helper her into a waiting room seat, “It doesn’t really. What’s your name? I need it to register you.”
She paused. This part was never easy. “Cotton…Sprinkles.”
“Hfff-okay, I’ll be right back.” The stallion held in some laughter as he galloped up to the front desk and began talking with the receptionist. The pegasus saw him say something that enticed laughter from the pony across the counter. She took a look over at the pink mare, a worried expression growing on her face, then floated a quill toward the stallion. After signing a few papers, he walked back to the mare. “Come on, there’s not many ponies here right now so they can get you in immediately.”
She nodded, and they went through the steps of getting her into a carrying position. She noticed many nurses and doctors wave at the stallion as they followed the receptionist through the hallway. His friendliness prompted her to believe that he’d been at this facility before. They eventually came across a room labeled MRI, where the receptionist handed a unicorn in a lab coat a clip board with the pink mare’s information on it. He nodded and ushered the earth pony into the room.
The unicorn instructed the stallion to lay Cotton down on cold metal plate that rested on a rail. The rail led into a large circular hole in a large machine. She gulped at the site, “Am I going in there?”
“Yes,” the doctor unicorn stated, “this is going analyze your brain for us so we can check you for a concussion. Your papers are very indicative of what happened to you, so this is just going to be the first of many tests we’ll have to run. Is that alright?”
The mare looked at the earth pony for approval, and he nodded. “Yes, I’m okay with it.”
“Good. We’ll get you bandaged up after this, but your head is priority. Now just lay on your stomach with legs and wings spread out and we’ll get this started.” The unicorn walked to a control panel on the other side of the room. He pressed a few buttons then turned a key and the machine began vibrating with action.
“This looks awfully expensive,” the mare said worriedly.
The stallion smiled, “Let me worry about that. You just worry about staying still, Cotton.”
The smile calmed the mare a bit, making her realize how tense she still was from the night’s events. Her muscles relaxed, letting her lay a bit closer to the cold surface she was on. “What’s your name? If you don’t mind me asking.”
The yellow earth pony thought for a moment, then responded, “That suited guy is called Night Trotter. But you can call me Wild Charger.”
Cotton smiled softly. For some reason, the name fit him. He was fairly tall, and obviously stronger, thinking back to when he kicked her attacker. And maybe it was just her head hurting, or just that he did it for her, but he seemed the type of pony to go and help people. He was definitely bigger than most people he’d have to go against, anyway.
She stirred when the rail started moving her and the tray. The doctor peered over from across the room, “Don’t move too much while you’re in there. The MRI can’t scan you if you’re not still, and we’ll just have to redo it.”
Cotton gave a worried look towards Wild Charger. “Don’t worry,” he said, “just try going to sleep, it’s what I always do. By the time I wake up, it’s already done.”
The mare took a deep breath. Sleeping would be welcome after such an eventful night. Remembering exactly what happened, however, gave her a sting of fear. “So, Wild…are you still going to be here when I wake up?”
He gave a reassuring nod, “Don’t worry. I won’t leave your side until you’re home safe.”
By now, her body was disappearing into the machine for scanning. “Thank you.” The last thing she saw before she closed her eyes was the worry-relieving gaze of her hero, the same thing she’d hope would be in her sight when she awoke.
Night Trotter
Chapter One: House Warming
Celestia’s sun was just beginning to paint the sky a deep morning red when Wild Charger stepped out the hospital doors. He had been in the medical facilityl for six hours carrying Cotton between rooms, and now she was on his back again so he could take her home to rest. Cotton pointed him in the right direction of her apartment complex, and he began a steady trot.
At a glance, it was easy to see that Cotton was in bad shape. Scrapes and bruises dotted her underside, easily visible through the fur, even after the wounds had been clean. Her jaw was sprained and wrapped in gauze to keep her from moving it more than she needed to. She even had a cast keeping both her back legs and flank in a stationary position.
Cotton had no problem dealing with her bound snout, she could speak through it well enough, and she could even get through the pain on her underside; but the cast was torture. It was itchy, it was uncomfortable, and worst of all impeded her movement to slow shuffles. The doctor had been kind enough to make the area that covered her thighs out of a more flexible material, so she could at least move her back legs enough to avoid having to drag her rear behind her, but it was barely enough to ease the burden.
Pausing her thoughts for a moment, Cotton tapped on Wild’s shoulder. “Takth the netht rith.” She heard the stallion laugh through his snout over her attempt to speak through the novacaine, then he cheerfully obeyed orders and turned at the end of the block.
Other than the belly injuries, the cast, and the sprained jaw, she did not know if there was anything else wrong. The doctor had used his magic to hover a clipboard in front of Wild’s head and asked him to read it. He looked over it for a few moments, longer than would have been comfortable, and Cotton could see his smile fade ever so slightly. He had given her a thoughtful look for a moment before turning, murmuring “I’ll handle it” to the doctor, then continuing his conversation with her while they waited for more medical results.
Cotton couldn’t help but wonder what was written on that clipboard, and why this stallion wanted to wait to tell her. Could she have some internal bleeding? No, they would have kept her at the hospital if it were that serious. Or maybe it was just so bad they figured nothing could be done, so they sent her home to die in her own bed. There was a ping of worry in the pit of her stomach, making her more nauseous than she already was. On the verge of panicking, she brushed a few stray hairs behind her ear, as she always did when she became stressed, and pushed the thought to the back of her mind. She was just being over-dramatic. Wild probably just didn’t want her to worry anymore than she had to given she was assaulted only several hours earlier. She’d just ask him about it later. For now she turned her attention to the city around her.
A few ponies were already walking along the limestone streets beginning their daily routines. The sun was just high enough to peek over the buildings at the far end of the street, casting long shadows behind the city’s inhabitants. The buildings were getting older the closer they got to her apartment. This section of the city was nearly fifty years old, meaning the buildings were made of wood rather than stone. The architecture was different as well; each building was about six or seven stories tall, shorter than the stone ones in the newer section of the city but taller than the older ones. The triangular struts that allowed the ones around her to be so tall extended out the walls of the buildings, creating right triangle patterns across the fronts.
As they neared the end of the street, Cotton spied the building she had come to call home sitting on the street corner. It was the oldest building in the area, so it was only three stories tall, but nonetheless looked nice. It was built before triangular patterns became common in the architecture, allowing it to have more windows on the front. The wooden walls were polished to a glistening light brown texture and the supports at the sides and corners were a bit darker. The two top floors had five shuttered windows each, spaced evenly across each side with frame colors that matched the supports and white curtains hanging inside. The bottom floor was different from the others, having long windows across that stretched the length of the building, only pausing to make room for the support beams. Directly inside were red booths and cream tables, some occupied by ponies here and there but mostly empty. The entrance to the eatery was at the corner of the building, indented into the wall a few feet. To top it all off, a sign reading “Beef Stew’s” hung above the door and over the sidewalk, casting a swinging shadow onto the ground farther away.
Once more, Cotton tapped on Wild’s shoulder with her hoof. “Thee bar ofer there ath the corner?”
Wild looked down the street and studied the building she had indicated for a moment, noticing how different it was from the others. “The short building?” he asked, motioning in the direction.
“Yeth. Go up the stairs ath the back of ith.” Cotton chewed on her tongue a bit. The novacaine was finally beginning to wear off, but not enough to stop the stallion carrying her from laughing.
Wild nodded and trotted toward the building. When he entered, a bell above the door rang and a few ponies looked up for a moment, quickly returning to what they were doing, then looking again to reanalyze what they saw.. A gray stallion behind the bar looked up and his face filled with surprise. Cotton suddenly realized how strange it must look for a random pony to walk into the bar with a bandaged mare slung over his back. She gathered enough courage to put on an awkward smile and whispered into Wild’s ear, “Get up the stairs before ponies start asking questions.”
Wild had no problem complying and trotted to and up the stairs at a brisk pace. He and Cotton disappeared behind the walls and arrived in a long hallway on the second floor of the building. Hung around the walls were a few old looking black and white pictures over a flowery wallpaper. The only two doors were situated at the end of the hallway, flanking a plant and the center window on the end wall. Figuring her apartment must be one of the two, he proceeded forward.
“It’s the one on the right,” Cotton told Wild. “Spare key is in the flower pot.”
Wild grabbed the key from plant on the windowsill and carefully undid the latch on the door. He pushed the door open and headed into the room. The first thing he noticed was a mixture of pleasant aromas that filled the room, cinnamon and something that smelled sweet being the most dominant. The next thing was just how large the apartment was. He had walked in to a room that had to take up at least a quarter of the floor. Directly in front of him was the living area with a bookshelf against the wall to his right, a short couch a bit in front of that, and a table in front of it. Across the table was a longer couch that sat under one of the two windows along the wall to Wild’s left. Beyond the living area was a small but well-used kitchen with metal ware, dishes, and ingrediants scattered around the counters. A bar with two stools separated the kitchen from the living area. To the right of the kitchen was a relatively small, circular dining table with a few cushions for seats. It was plainly obvious to Wild that this mare did very good with the space she had available, and he couldn’t even imagine what the rooms down the hall between the dining table and bookshelves looked like.
Cotton quickly became aware of Wild staring at her living quarters, “I’ve rearranged a few times, but I think I found a setup that works,” she mentioned sheepishly.
“I’ll say.” Wild said, pushing the door closed with his back leg after tossing the key back in the pot, “This place looks like something you’d see in a furniture advertisement.”
“That sounds like something my neighbor would say. Could you set me down on the couch?” Wild moved forward and carefully helped Cotton down. After a moment of struggling and a few breaths of pain from the mare, Cotton lay on her belly with her legs stretched out across the cushions. “Ah, it feels good to be home.”
Wild took the liberty of letting his saddlebag slide off his back and lay near the door. Opening one of the pockets, he pulled out a clipboard and a few small jars, placing them on the table one by one.
“Don’t get too comfortable yet,” Wild said as he began reading the paper, “You’ve still got to take the medicine the doctor prescribed. I recognize some of these herbs and they’re pretty bitter. You got a measuring cup anywhere?”
Cotton gestured toward her kitchen, “Check the drawer beside the hearth. If you don’t see it, just look around a bit.”
Wild nodded and walked around the bar into the kitchen, the state of which immediately shocked him. There were pots and pans filling up the sink and pouring onto the counter, the hooks that lined the walls almost completely void of the objects they were intended to hold. More utensils were scattered around the counter in pseudo-random places. Wild proceeded to open the drawer next to the brick cooking area, seeing nothing but a few spoons and forks. Figuring the rest of the compartments were just as empty, he scanned the counter.
Right in front of him on the hearth he found what was giving off the pleasant aroma he detected when he first entered the apartment. A small mixing bowl sat on the grill with a spoon hanging off its edge. Wild took a moment to waft the smell into his nostrils and let out a contented sigh.
“Is this cinnamon?” he asked out loud.
Cotton was staring out the window behind her when the question came, pulling her from her thoughts. “The stuff in the bowl? I didn’t know I left that out.” She rubbed the back of her head with a hoof, feeling silly that a stranger was going through her mess.
Wild took another sniff, “It smells wonderful. Were you about to bake?”
“Thanks, and yeah. You can just ignore all that, I’ll clean it up later.” Cotton hurried her response, not wanting to talk about her disorganization anymore.
Wild sensed the mare’s slight change and could tell she was embarrassed by his responses, but he didn’t see how she could clean the kitchen herself in her current state. He decided to ask her about it later and continued his search.
Meanwhile, Cotton simply gazed out her window, watching the sun get higher and the shadows get shorter. Wild finally emerged from the kitchen a few moments later, measuring cup in mouth, and sat his rump on the floor in between the table and Cotton.
“Where’d you find it?”
“Fridge. Behind your carving knife.”
Cotton’s face turned red, but Wild quickly got her attention by tapping the clipboard on the table. “Pay attention, you’re going to need to know when to take this medicine.”
He set the clipboard on the table and lifted the top paper, reading the instructions underneath. Cotton waited for him to begin speaking, but after a moment of silence she shifted herself over in an attempt to look at his face. She caught a glimpse of his eyes struggling on the paper before he heard her movement and turned around quickly, his face showing a bit of uneasiness. “Need something? Heh.” he laughed uncomfortably.
“No,” she said, trying to read his expression, “I’m just waiting for you to read it to me.”
“Oh! Yeah. Um...,” he grabbed the top page off the board, seemingly doing his best to keep her from seeing it, and handed the rest to Cotton, “Maybe it’d be better if you read them yourself, so you could remember. Just…just read them out loud and I’ll get out what you need for today.”
Cotton grabbed the board and parchment and set it in front of her, beginning to read aloud. “Two Welder’s plant petals every morning. Next one says an inch of nurnroot once a day for a week. Bisogli? Erm, no. Bisoglyp?”
“Bisoglyphus,” Wild corrected, “The buffalo used to make parchment out of it. Now it’s mainly used to prevent cramping. It’s also called the Ferrier’s flower.”
Cotton noted the horseshoe shape of the flower bulb as Wild pulled one out of a jar. “That’s actually pretty interesting. One petal from that before every meal.”
Wild picked the petal off and set it in a pile he was making for the medications. “Thanks. I like to learn about things like this when I get the chance.”
“Do you know what that is?” Cotton asked, pointing to the last jar full of small black seeds.
“That’s an easy one, it’s Wolf’s bane.” Wild said a bit proudly, tipping his snout in the air.
“Says I need to chew on it frequently. Got any useful knowledge on what it’s supposed to do?”
“It’s slightly poisonous, but for Earth ponies it’s used as a pain reliever.” Wild took a couple out and handed them to Cotton, who rolled them a bit in her hoof.
“Poisonous?” she asked, her face showing a little disgust.
Wild waved his hoof dismissively, “Oh not that bad! It’ll most likely make you a little groggy every now and then. Worst case scenario you throw up. It’s like food poisoning!”
His wide grin didn’t match his description of the plant at all. Cotton handed the seeds back and stuck her tongue out in disgust, “You’re not making me feel better about it.”
Wild scooped up the petals and root into the cup of water and helped the mare place it in her mouth. “Here, these are pretty bitter, but I’ll tell you a secret. Swallow it in one gulp, and it’ll go a lot easier.”
The scent from the petals wafted into her nostrils as she held the cup in her mouth. The distinct stench made her eyes water, it was like somepony was holding hot sauce under her nose. She looked at Wild one last time with a pleading look, hoping to get out of it. But what she saw was the same smile he gave her when she disappeared into the MRI machine at the hospital. Her worries were quelled,at least enough to go for it, and she tipped her head back to gulp down the medicine. She coughed for a moment as it all went down, but quickly regained her composure and handed the cup back to Wild.
“See, goes a lot quicker than just sitting there all miserable thinking about how bad it tastes, huh?” Wild grinned and pulled some more equipment out of the bag.
“Yeah,” Cotton wiped her eyes that had grown watery from the stench, “it helped a little. What’s next?”
Wild placed a few rolls of gauze, a bottle, and some patches on the table. He took a step back so that Cotton could see them. “Doc said you’ll have to replace your bandages every day. They’ll get infected otherwise.”
Cotton sat up a bit, but grabbed her chest when pain shot through her. After is subsided, she responded, “How am I supposed to do that by myself?”
Wild gripped a Wolf’s bane seed and handed it to Cotton for her pain. She looked up at him with a thankful expression and dropped it in her mouth, noting the strange taste. “In your condition, I don’t think you can. It would probably be a good idea if somepony could come and stay with you for the next few weeks while you heal. Do you have anyone in mind?”
“No, not that I can remember. My parents are…passed. No siblings. Oh, but I’ve got a cousin in Canterlot! He sends letters every few months to see how I’m doing!”
Wild went ahead and began putting the medications back into their respective jars, “If he can take the time off, then go ahead and send him a letter. But Canterlot is days away even for a pegasi. Can anyone take care of you until he gets here?”
“There’s Stew. He owns the place downstairs. But I don’t think he’d be able to come away from his business every time I need something. Then across the hall is my neighbor Midnight, but his job keeps him away for weeks.”
“What about the third floor?”
“Just a bunch of storage rooms. Stew lives up there.”
“Any other relatives?” Cotton shook her head. “Coworkers?” Same response. “Anyone owe you a favor?” Again, she shook her head.
Wild sighed, feeling a bit defeated. He waved a hoof, “Do you have any friends?” He immediately realized his mistake when the pink pony’s head moved back and her face took on a shocked expression. Wild’s hoof shot up to his mouth. “No, wait! I didn’t mean it like that!”
Cotton laughed, muffled by the bandages around her jaw, and gave Wild a joking nudge, “You are too easy! It just took me by surprise, that’s all.”
The stallion rubbed the hairs on the back of his head, letting out a nervous chuckle. “Heh, yeah, sorry about that. I kind of stop thinking if the conversation gets too long.”
“Don’t worry about it. Now back to your question: I’ve got a couple friends that might be willing to help out, there’s…” her voice trailed off as she prolonged the last word and brought a hoof to her chin. Her facial expression turned slowly between thoughtful and confused for the next few moments as she tried to complete her sentence. After a moment she lifted her hoof in an ‘ah-hah!’ moment and Wild looked at her expectantly. When seconds passed and she didn’t say anything, she lowered her head in defeat. She lifted her bangs and rubbed her forhead as if to check for a fever then shook her head, “That’s funny. I can’t seem to remember.”
Wild coughed uneasily, “Uh, yeah, there’s some things I need to tell you about your condition. You’ve got a slight concussion. Before you worry, there’s no permanent damage, but the doctor said you’re going to have a little trouble until you recover.” He paused a moment to let the information sink in, “That’s another reason you need someone here with you; you may not be up to anything too mentally-stressing for a few weeks.”
Cotton sulked into her couch, “That’s...that’s not really an option for me. My boss has me working on something really important to the company right now.”
“Whatever it is, I’m sure somepony else can handle it for you.”
The pink mare attempted to lift herself. “No, this is my last shot! If I don’t show up I’ll be fired!” She blocked all pain from her mind and moved to get off the couch to prove she could. She managed to stand up straight with a slight wince. Jumping off the couch, her cast fell inbetween the cushions and she fell forward. Wild, watching the Cotton intently to make sure she didn’t strain herself, moved his head down and caught her above his neck, but gravity still managed to bring her muzzle to the floor with an audible bump.
Cotton held her hooves to her face as Wild shimmied the mare onto his back. “Ow, ow, ow, oooowwww!” He took the bag of medications in his teeth and began heading down the hall at the other end of the room.
“That settles that,” he said, taking a guess at which door was Cotton’s bedroom and heading inside.
The bedroom was set up similarly to the den, with all the furniture well organized for how small the area was. In the middle of the room was a dominating queen sized bed with a short dresser on one side. On top of the dresser had a candle, reading lamp, and alarm clock, and at the front on the floor was a stack of novels, all well-worn form repeated usage. A window looked out over the street to the left, letting much less light in than the others in the apartment as it wasn’t facing the still-rising sun,but the alleyway between buildings.The light fell on the bottom half of a light blue blanket that covered the bed.
Wild noted the changed in scent as he helped Cotton onto her bed, this time it being vanilla. He made a spot on the dresser for the bag as Cotton clumsily dug herself under her covers with her front hooves.
“I really do need to go to work.” Wild turned to Cotton, her eyes were pleading and she was still holding onto her snout. Again, he could see the severity of her condition in cut on her neck and bandage on her snout. He was surprised at her will to return to work given the circumstances, but the lines under her eyes and how far she was under the blanket indicated she also had some desire to just rest. He stared at her for a moment, then turned back to pull something out of the bag.
“Did you hear me? I can’t lose my job.” Wild paused for a moment, acknowledging that he had heard, but then continued what he was doing, seemingly ignoring what the mare was saying.
Cotton was starting to become angry. Yes, this stallion had helped her so far, but she had been experiencing incredibly bad luck when it came to her job in recent months. Her current project was her last chance, and if she didn’t deliver like she promised, she would definitely get the hoof. Without an income to hold her over, healing didn’t matter to her one bit.
Tensing up, she lifted herself again just as Wild pulled out a small baggy. She looked him in his face and pulled the gauze off of her wrapped muzzle, ignoring the pain that shot through her head. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but you don’t understand. My livelihood depends on tomorrow, and if I don’t deliver, I will not get a second chance. I’ve got everything handled from here, and I won’t do anything excessive or unnecessary. Thank you for your help, but-” She was cut off by a hoof pushing her shoulder back down to the bed.
She looked up quizzically at Wild. “Just lay still for a moment.” He bit down on the gauze and used a hoof to begin re-wrapping Cotton’s snout. The pain she felt was counteracted by how embarrassingly close the stallion’s mouth was getting to her own, yet he seemed to not mind at all.
Wild tucked the end of the gauze under the midsection and moved away. Cotton held her muzzle for the third time, gritting her teeth at the pain. “I understand, you’re job is important,” he began. He handed another her seed to chew on, which she eagerly obliged to. “But you’re condition is much worse than you think. I haven’t told you everything yet.”
Wild grabbed the baggy and rubbed it between his hooves, looking for something hard inside. A click could be heard, then the bag swelled, turning from clear brown to white. He handed it to Cotton, who immediately noted how cold as ice the hard substance inside it was. She looked up and the stallion directed her to put it on her snout. She did so, assuming it to be some kind of ice pack, and immediately felt relief.
She stared at him unbelievingly. He was being so helpful, even despite her yelling a moment ago and stupidly ripping off her gauze, he put it back on and eased the pain like it was nothing.
The yellow stallion noticed her thoughtful expression and returned it with his trademark warm smile, “Since you can’t remember everything right now, I’ll come back by later today. We still have more to talk about, but you need rest. We’ll figure out everything later. Okay?”
Cotton reluctantly agreed. Although she was still worried, this stallion seemed to know what he was doing. She rested her head back on her pillows. “Okay. I’ll rest, but you have to promise me you’ll be back later. Deal?”
Wild blew out the candle lamp on the dresser and walked out the door frame. He turned and nodded, “Deal,” before closing the door behind him.
Cotton heard a few more hoof steps traveling down the hallway, and then her front door close and lock. Laying her head back, she adjusted the ice pack so that it would lean against her muzzle without her intervention, but the weight still would not hurt her. Now that everything was quiet, she was beginning to feel all the different areas of her body that were in pain.
Still, the fact that the strange stallion, Wild Charger, would be back later to help out eased her mind enough that she was able to fall asleep without anymore thought.
