Iron, Wine, and American Mouths

The first sign that the fæ had enough of my shit was when my sight started warpin'.

You know how in some movies, the camera man will zoom in and pull the dolly back to create that change in the field of vision?
It was like that, but with my eyes.

Yup.. I reckoned this was how I was gonna die.

They figured out what I done did, The Contract was over, and the Fair Folk don't do severance pay and a two week's notice to traitors.

You'd be lucky if you got a head start. Guess I was lucky. My sight went horizontal on me, I was suddenly way more able to see off to the sides, which, ain't a good thing when you're driving a truck. I could still see forward, but I saw a lot more than just that.

I saw my fingers fuse up together, my nails - or nail, now - getting all thick and heavy on me, and my bones shiftin underneath my body. My clothes shredded apart as I suddenly felt my shoulders deepen and my legs notch back and up. My boots got awful tight before just straight up busting into leather confetti, some of it getting underneath the pedals below me. Fur suddenly poofed up all around my skin, and I swear I felt my hair grow a few inches.

My neck elongated and smashed my face against the windshield, and I could tell my nose had gotten away from me - and was a hell of a lot more sensitive.

Sniff, sniff.
Did I leave some old food in here or something? The cab really stank to high heaven all of a sudden-

In that momentary lapse of judgement and concentration, I lost control of the truck.

You ever try to drive a stick shift with hooves? It's not easy. Your feet can't work the clutch as easily, to say nothing of actually shifting gears. Or moving the steering wheel.

Bastards waited until I was on a mountain pass, too. In the rain, no less. The wheels skidded and screeched on the slick asphalt, which played hell and high water on my newly sensitive ears.
They wanted me dead, but I'd done enough for them that they'd make this a fun chase. So if I survived this crash --

The truck flew through the railing and fell, and I screamed. I ain't so proud that I won't admit to screaming in fear. You try suddenly turning into a horse in your truck cuz your capos decided that it's time for you to push up daisies. It ain't fun.

I felt the impact of the airbag against my chest, pushing my face back from the shattering glass, and I reckon I broke a few bones at the end of it.

There was silence for a little bit. I know I didn't have much time, but I was still dazed out. The glass all around me was pretty much donezo, and I could tell some of it had gotten under my coat.
Ow, ow, ow, ow.

An ancient horn sounded off in the distance, and that meant only one thing.
The Hunt had begun.

I had to squeeze around in the cabin just to get my bearings. Horse bodies ain't exactly built for the inside of pickup trucks, even if them trucks have the extra cabin space. I pushed my front half into the passenger seat, my rear hooves still stuck under the steering wheel.

There was a tree, straight through the engine. A few more meters and that tree woulda turned me into glue.

A little more squeezin, and my rear hooves broke free. I pressed em against the door. Without fingers, this was my best bet. Took a few tries, but I kicked my way out of the truck, and gingerly backed out from it.

Dammn. My baby. My truck. Look how they massacred my girl. I touched a hoof to the crushed chasis, and mourned.
Rest in peace, Drum Thunder.. You were the best damn truck this country ever saw, best there ever was. You survived every road in this country, and some roads outside it, and all the off-roading I could ever offer. This wasn't your first crash, but it sure was your last. Hell, probably kept my new horse body safe from that there tree by eating it on my behalf.

I looked into the busted up mirror and saw a rusty orange horse with a mildly brown mane. My eyes looked like the gentle glow of embers cooling off.
I sighed, and looked back at the truck.

God dammit. I loved that damn thing.

The howls snapped me outta my mourning. Right. Them fae folk was after me now. I heard the telltale barking of the Hounds, their masters not far behind. The Wild Hunt had gotten close.

Time to run.

Luckily, prey species tend to be good at that. Unluckily, I was a prey species, and I could feel my humanity sap away with each firing of the ol' neurons. I was losing myself, it was getting harder to think right. I was already injured to hell and back, making my prey brain get ready to cash in the chips.
That's what they wanted, of course. The panic, the fear, I knew all their Wily Little Tricks, I done worked with them for years. They chose thick woods, hard to run in without getting scraped up. They made sure the ground was slick and muddy, and they made sure it was night time. Perfect fear material, and I couldn't afford to succumb to it.

So I held on to what I still had, and kept running. The Hounds were on my tail right quick, making to surround me in their pack tactics, but I just ran the dog in front of me right the fuck over. Beep beep, jackass, I got a me to be!

Snorting with determination, I kept on pushing myself, feeling my lungs heave and bleed with every few hundred meters.
I was a prey animal. Not a human. I sweat, but not as much as my old body did, and that would mean I'd give out sooner rather than later.

Visions of them feasting on my remains at a banquet table flooded my mind.

"Jesus, I know we ain't on speaking terms, but if you want me back, now would be a damn good time for some divine intervention!" I prayed in my head as I kept on pounding the ground below me. One of them dogs got a chunk out of my hock, and that shit stung real bad. Then another bite, and another. I whinnied in pain, trying to cuss out my anger and fear, and found I couldn't speak aloud. Course I couldn't. Isolation from humanity is what the fae do best.

Then, I felt the Hunt gaining on me - the hounds had done their job of slowing me down some, and arrows began to whiz by me - bob and weave, boy, bob and weave!
I felt one land smack dab in the side of my back. Then another in my leg. Pain, like no other, made me scream like the feral beast I was.
"Satan? Nusku! Surtr? Prometheus?? Q?! ?? Xiuhtēcuhtli?! JXNE?! Hell, I'll take the first deity to answer my call, I ain't picky!!" I kept on praying, "Anyone!! AnyTHING! For the love of all that is good, HELP ME!"

My prayers were answered with a shimmerin cascade of rainbows overtakin' me. I found myself in the woods still, but the Hunt was gone - and they was different woods. I burst out, and found myself on the edge of a farm, late at night. The air tasted. different, cleaner, and somehow more magical.

I stopped to catch my breath, which took a fair amount of wheezing.
The hell just happened?
I felt something catch in my throat, and I hacked up some.. red looking stuff, my whole esophagus hurting like hell.
"Son of a bitch.." I groaned, before realizing something. "I can talk? How the hell can I talk, I'm a horse!"

I looked at the red mess and realized they was probably my old vocal chords - they'd been replaced.
I hissed a whisper into the night all around me.
"Hey! Whoever helped me out back there, thank ya kindly! Could ya reveal yourself so I can, y'know, pledge my undyin' loyalty, fealty, n' all that jazz?"

Nothing.
Gonna be one of those gods, huh? See, this was exactly why I wasn't on speaking terms with Ol' Oily Josh, his shitty dad, and his holy ghost.
Least the fae actually answered my calls.
A chilly bitter wind blew in from the woods behind me, almost feeling like a hearty smack on the bum, and I started to stumble my way into the fields before me.

I reckoned I could risk one night of trespassing. Worse comes to worse, a human finds me and, what, calls a vet? Then puts a saddle on me and locks me in a stall? Hell, that's free room and board, I wouldn't complain.
Hopefully they wouldn't put me out to stud, I ain't no good with the ladies.

Actually, no, worst case they'd just put me outta my misery, but I guess I'd be bankin' on running into one of them ranchers that make money filming viral videos of recovering horses. Boomers couldn't get enough of the stuff.

I mean, same, horses are damn beautiful creatures.

I saw a farmhouse near the entrance and decided to give it a wide berth, moving deep into the apple orchard. Even so, I heard a dog spook and start barkin', and for a second I thought the Hunt had found me, but naw, this was a normal dog, not the hellish beasts the fae used to track down even the most elusive prey.

Damn, these apples smelled real good. As I wandered, I gathered some twigs in my mouth, found a spot bereft of any particularly dry looking trees, and built myself a campfire.
It took a bit of doin, but if there's one thing I can do well, it's fires. After a few hours of scratching wood against wood between my clumsy hooves, the fire got burning, and I curled up beside it to rest.

The fire was a welcome respite - for the first time in what felt like years, warmth. I relaxed on the grass and watched the stars.

Fire was always my friend. It's what I used to fight, always. Molotovs, burns, flash fires, fireworks.. burning things down was how I rolled. Fire was a Statement. It was around before humanity, and it'll be here afterwards.
And dammit if it wasn't the one thing I loved most.

Felt something flash against my body. A gentle cold heat, like someone giving you a hug and you're both at different temperatures, so you equal out.
I looked at my flank.

There was a goddamn butt tattoo on it now. Swear on my ma, it looked like a real simple image of a bonfire with a big apple in the center of the flame, ashen logs beneath the fire burning bright.

Huh. Okay.

I looked back up.
Wherever I was didn't have much in the way of light pollution - I could see every piece of nebula and galaxy in front of me, the moon shining bright against it all. It was almost comforting, as if the cosmos themselves was saying, "there ya go, son, you're safe now. Take it easy."

My body ached something fierce. Had to lay still, careful not to aggravate the wounds. Couldn't rip the arrows out, that's no good. Without proper surgical removal, why, that'd be the death of me. No, best to wait this night out, then come morning I'd go looking for help-

"Alright, stranger, you best explain to me what y'all're doin on my farm." Said a feminine voice with a southern drawl that, admittedly, was a lot like mine. I didn't turn my head to the voice, I didn't want some lady seein' a horse talk.

"I ain't here to cause no trouble ma'am, I'm just a drifter passin' through."
"Drifter but nothin, you tell me the truth right now, y'hear?"
"Just cold and needed a bit o' hearth. I promise you'll not see hair nor hide of me after tonight, miss."
"Turn your head, I see you stayin still like that. Pony up and face me like a mare!"

What? Outta confusion I did turn, and found myself pretty damn shocked.
It was another goddamn pony. My ears perked up in surprise.
Whoever done pulled me out plopped me into a world of talking horses. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride, and I sure was about to ride this blessin as far as it'd take me.

That sounded better in my head. The mare looked at me real confused at my surprise.

She was a golden-orange-brown type of color, like real good solid wood, her mane the color of a hay bale. She had a stetson with enough wear and tear on it to prove it weren't for show, it belonged to a real farmhand - farmhoof? Whatever. She looked like the real McCoy if I ever seen one. She had a lantern in her mouth, and a stern look on her face that declared she was about ready to kick my shit in.

Gingerly, I stood up, and winced. Forgot about the wounds in my body. I saw the mare's shock on her face as I turned my body, arrows still stuck in my side, bites all over my leg, cuts, bruises, and what have you.
"Land's sakes alive!!" She gasped. "What in tarnation happened to you, ma'am?"
"MA'AM?!" I shrieked, in what was what I hoped a manly way, then impulsively checked myself, not caring for politeness.

Yup. It was gone.
"Them bastards took that from me, too.." I whimpered, and the mare looked right confused.

That right there was the tipping point, my brain couldn't take the horrors no more. I felt something in my spine flip a breaker switch, and I was out like a light.

Eventually I woke up in some hospital. Which at least confirmed I wasn't dead.
I sat up a bit and inspected my body. Bandages. Bandages. Butt Tattoo. Bandages.

A nurse walked in, carrying a clipboard in her hoof, and if I weren't versed in magic, I woulda been stumped as to how. But my years of practice let me see a sorta undercurrent of magic, like a secondary blood system, rushing to the hoof.
Noticably, she hadn't seen me yet.
"Uh, scuze me-"
She gave the slightest of flinches, before looking up at me, and givin' me a professional smile. "Ah. You're awake. That's wonderful, for a while there, we were worried you weren't gonna make it."
"...Yyyeaah. How bad was it, if I could ask?"
"Multiple broken ribs and leg bones, a punctured lung, concussion, two arrows stuck in you with a minor poison on the tip, multiple bite wounds from a wild animal that developed infections, contusions, lacerations, and internal bleeding." She read from the chart, then looked up at me with a pang of sympathy. "You were out for a week."

"..I reckon I shouldn't be alive."
"No, ma'am," she said, I flinched, "By all rights you shouldn't be, but here you are, awake and alert. Nothing short of a miracle, but I think that if Applejack hadn't brought you here when she found you, that might've sealed the deal."
"Applejack."
"Yes, Applejack. Her family owns the farm you were found in?"
"Right! Okay, yeah, I remember now."
"You family with her?"
"Huh? What, no."

The mare looked genuinely surprised, and had the dignity to blush and look ashamed. "Oh, my apologies, I had just.. assumed that with the apple on your cutie mark, you were part of the Apple family - you have the Southern Equestrian accent and they typically are of a sturdier build, what with their majority being earth ponies like you. They're kinda notorious for being all over Equestria."

I took a few mental notes in my head.
I sounded like a member of the Apple family. I had a.. 'cutie mark', hell of a name, that. And I was, to these folk at least, an earth pony.

"Supposin's since I took a few bumps to the head, would you mind giving me the lowdown on what other kinda ponies there is?"
The mare tilted her head patiently. "Well, there's pegasi, unicorns, and earth ponies. The town you're in, Ponyville, is also home to a zebra resident, a few cows, and it gets a few griffon travellers."

Ponyville? Heh! That'd be like if there was a human town called "Mansfield"- Oh wait, no, nevermind, I been there.

"And, speaking of bumps to the head, now that you're awake and conscious, I'd like to ask you a few questions, to see where you're standing mentally." She said as she produced a pencil from her mane, and held it in her mouth.
"Ask away ma'am."
"Do you remember your name?"
"..Can we roll back around to that one? I needa jog my memory."
She looked at me, wrote something down, and continued. "What happened during the night that you were injured?"

I coulda said wild animal attack if it weren't for the arrows.

"Well ma'am, I don't rightly know. Everything from before today's sort of a blur. I remember running for my life, I remember.. the sound of animals chasing me, and.."

I swear I heard the Hunt's horn and looked out the window.
She didn't hear it none, and she looked to me, then followed my gaze, and we both saw nothing.
"Patient presented auditory hallucinations and paranoia.." she quietly said to herself, writing it down. "Possible signs of PTSD."
Oops.

After that, she gave me the typical barrage of questions, and when I "found" I couldn't answer most of them, she came back around to the first question.
"Now, since you've given your memory a jog, can you remember your name at all?"

Now, this was important. Names had power. Hell, I gave mine to the Fae when i signed up to work with them, so as of right now, I didn't have a name. But whatever god done pulled me outta that mess gave me a second chance, and that there meant a new name.
I had to be smart about this. I couldn't just look around the room and say somethin like I.V. Drip or Defenestration, but look around the room I did, and my eyes landed on that there cutie mark.

Huh. Now that I gave it some thought, it was fire. Precious, warm, burning, dangerous, volatile, something you had to respect, and it would respect you back. The great equalizer. The all consuming, the hearthwarmer, the thing that kept us alive in all our hearts.
The apple inside it, I didn't get. Good food, don't get me wrong, fruit of all time, but I wasn't sure about the symbology of an apple on fire on my butt. Maybe it was assigned by whatever god ran this place. Would make sense, wouldn't it? Maybe they already had some plans in store for my gormless ass.

That, and it also looked like I was bakin' the apple, and baked apples? That shit is real tasty. Specially with butter.

"Bonfire... Apple..bake." I nodded. "Bonfire Applebake."

The nurse looked up at me with a quizzical deadpan that slowly turned into a smile. "Are you sure you're not part of the Apple family?"