The Life And Times of a Terrible Pony

Velour stands stock still in the doorway, legs spread and trembling. His breath comes heavy even as he tries his best to be silent.

Why am I so scared? he thinks. Pull yourself together, Velour! He stomps his hoof on the floor, standing up straight. The hoofsteps in the hallway quiet, then stop completely.

Velour steps out into the hallway, and stomps his front hooves. “Who’s there? Who comes into the home of Velour?” He shouts, his voice echoing down the hall. A moment of silence falls, and then the sudden sound of hooves running on hard wood. Velour stands his ground, watching the darkness intently but refusing to move. A small, pink shapes come flying down the hall, legs moving fast in a blur.

Velour has barely a moment to recognize it before it crashes into him, knocking him to the floor. “R-Ruby??” He half-states, half-asks, pulling the shaking pink shape off of himself and holding it up in his forelegs.

Sure enough, it’s a medium sized filly, with pink fur and a soft, curled maroon mane. The fur on her legs and underbelly is splattered with red. “D-d-daddy!” She squeals, breaking down into sobs and burying her face in his neck.

Velour holds her there, unsure of what to do. His eyes flicker around the hallway, then he looks down at her. He can smell that she seems to have finally started her first estrus - but it hardly seems the time to comment on that.

“What happened, Ruby? Who screamed?”