Cleaning the Wound

Garble tore into the Timberwolf’s hide. Green syrupy blood splattered across his scales.

It roared as it lunged to bite into Garble’s neck. He grabbed it by its scruff and slammed it into the ground, burrowing his claws into the wood. It snapped at him as it struggled to get out, but Garble kept a firm grip on the monster.

He bit down on the obsidian he kept in the back of his mouth. Black flames gathered in his throat, spewing smog from the corners of his mouth. He breathed it on the beast, leaving behind nothing but ash.

The timberwolves that had gathered around to observe the fight whimpered and darted deeper into the woods. Wimps. This forest sucked. Everything was too weak to bother with or too strong to handle. He’d thought the Timberwolves might have been good, but they were brought down easily by obsidian charged flames that quickly burned out the magic that animated them, leaving them as just very flammable wood.

Taking a bite out of the cockatrice he’d hunted earlier (Even easier. Just don’t make eye contact like a moron), he’d reflected on the so-called “most dangerous forest in Equestria”.

He found a castle. Lame. Already been looted and any of the magical items were either useless to him or he already had. There was a zebra living there whom he hoped he never met face-to-face since Zebra potions were dragons’ bane. There were a few dragons that lived in the area, but… they’d left the dragonlands. There were only a few reasons why that happened and any one of them meant he should stay clear of them.

All of this was to say that he was bored. Nothing in this forest could get his blood pumping and help kick off the remnants of his nightmares. Worse, he was pretty sure that they had only become more prevalent in his thoughts, which meant he’d accomplished the exact opposite of what he’d wanted.

Disgruntled and frustrated, he started to head back to town.

Garble was confused.

The front yard of this one pony’s house was filled with strange metal equipment. Garble couldn’t figure out the purpose of any of it, but it looked cool, and that made Garble want to know more about it.

“You interested in lifting?!”

Though thrown off by the enthusiasm, Garble took in the brute of a pegasus that approached him. He was easily twice the size of any pony he’d met so far, but with the smallest wings he’d ever seen.

“No,” Garble said. “...What’s lifting?”

If he was put off by the immediate denial, the newcomer didn’t show it.

“You pick up and drop weights in different ways to get stronger and build muscle!” the pony excitedly explained.

“That’s it?”

“Yeah!”

“Sounds lame,” Garble retorted. “Fighting’s better.”

The pony circled around him, inspecting him with narrowed eyes. It made Garble uncomfortable.

“Back off, twerp.” Garble snarled.

“You could use some work on your deltoids,” the pony declared.

“My what?!”

“Come on! I can show you.”

The pony entered the front yard, opening the door invitingly for him. Whether it was from utter bewilderment or just exhaustion from that morning, Garble went into the yard.

Garble pushed. He had two iron rods with heavy balls on the ends (dumbbells, the pony called them) in his hands as he sat in a backless chair. He was desperately trying to get them above his head with his feet burrowing into the ground with how hard he was braced.

“YOU GOT THIS!” the pony shouted at him. “PUSH!”

With a roar, Garble exerted the last of his strength to push the dumbbells up before dropping them onto the ground to either side of himself. Even though he was exhausted, he still pumped up his arms in victory.

“WOO!” Garble shouted.

“YEAH!” the pony added.

A towel was offered. Garble waved it away. Dragons didn’t sweat.

“How do you feel?” the pony asked.

Tired. Content. Finally free of the funk he was in since that morning. Not that he was going to tell him that.

“Too easy,” Garble said. He crossed his arms over his chest. A difficult task with how worn out he was. “Was totally dumb.”

“You should do it more though! You got the perfect build for it!” The pony said, excitement in their voice. “Would be a waste not to!”

Perfect, huh? Him being the best at this lifting thing did have some appeal.

“...Maybe,” Garble relented. “Are you here most early mornings?”

“Yeah!”

“Then I might drop by sometimes… but fighting is still better!”

“Sure! But lifting will give you more strength for that.”

Garble grunted. “What’s your name?”

“Bulk Biceps.”

“Ugh, why do pony names sound so dumb? Whatever, I’ll see you around, dweeb.”

Garble stood up.

“What’s yours?” Bulk asked.

“Garble,” Garble replied. “Way cooler.”

Bulk tilted his head to one side. “Isn’t that word used to describe a message that’s total nonsense?”

“No!” He whirled on him, teeth clenched with a glare firmly on his face. “It's— Whatever! Pony names are dumber!”

He stomped off.

“See you again!” Bulk called after him.

Garble really didn’t like small doors. Ducking into them or worse crawling in on all fours like a pony just felt demeaning. Sure, the library was definitely bigger than most places, but all the doors were universally too short.

His two annoying housemates were seated at the big table in the main foyer of the library, having breakfast.

“Where were you this early in the morning?” Twilight asked as she sipped some beverage out of a mug.

“None of your business, nerd,” Garble retorted.

Twilight shrugged and took another sip.

“So, what great things are we learning about today?” Spike grumped as he munched on his gem toast. “Bullying for dummies?”

“You wish,” Garble said. “You couldn’t take on a hunk of pumice even if I softened it up for you.”

“...Pumice?” Spike scrunched up his face. “What’s that?”

“Seriously? You don’t even know what pumice is? You can’t be that much of a dunce.”

Spike crossed his arms and puffed out his cheeks. Like a toddler. The brat was such a pain.

“It’s not my fault ponies don’t know much about dragons,” Spike grumbled.

“I mean, duh. Ponies are dumb. They don’t even know the difference between a Wyrm and an Amphiptere. Though, you’re a hybrid I guess sooo…”

He noticed the blank looks he was getting.

“What’s with your faces?” Garble said.

“What’s a Wyrm and an Amphiptere?” Spike asked.

“...You?” Garble answered. More blank stares. “Wait, you seriously don’t even— No. Absolutely not. Get up, loser.”

Garble picked up Spike’s chair and dumped him out of it.

“Hey! What’s—” Spike protested.

“We’re going out,” Garble interrupted.

“Why?!”

“Because you’re an idiot, that's why. We’re learning basic biology.”