Apple Bloom groaned as she peeled her fuzzy little face off the dusty dirt road. The Earth's yellow sun shimmered in sweltering heat. No cloud could be seen in any direction. She felt far more twisted up inside than she ever had in her whole life. It was like a full-body swirly. Putting her filly hooves on the ground, she pushed herself up and gave herself a shake from her head to her tail. With four hooves solidly on the ground, she was far more unsteady than she had any right to be. Blinking slowly, she waited for the world to stop spinning before taking a good look at it.
Aside from the dusty, hard-packed dirt road, there was a sea of grass stretching out around her. It was all brown and dessicated, as if it hadn't been watered in weeks. There were still splotches of green, but the color was faded much like her enthusiasm for coming here. Where were the people? Where was the stuff? Why was she still a pony? Shouldn't she have transformed into a human?
The little filly groaned and rubbed her eyes. She really should have read the instructions. She'd probably messed up something important. How was she supposed to get home? If she wasn't already sick to her stomach, she would have felt sick to her stomach. Could she get a cutie mark for being a screw-up? It would probably serve her right to wind up with something dumb like a tangled slinky on her flank.
Heavy dust got into her nose; it smelled like mud. Her fuzzy muzzle scrunched up in teeny ridges as she prepared to sneeze. Thankfully, rubbing at her face stifled that reflex and she allowed herself to relax.
She wasn't really relaxed, though. With the sun trying to bore its way through her hide and oppressive heat squeezing sweat from her body, she started panting and looked around for shade. There was one tree far off in the distance, but it looked runty and didn't have much of a canopy. Apple Bloom frowned. Knowing her luck, it was probably full of ants or something.
The road she was on was lined with tall wooden poles that were strung with wires. She was uncertain of the purpose they served, but they didn't offer anything in the way of shade. Much further down the road, one building with faded and peeling blue siding stood alone in this emptiness. It didn't look like much, but it was better than standing out in the open.
With a sigh, Apple Bloom brushed the dust off her big, red bow. Since she was here, she might as well meet the natives, right?
As Apple Bloom walked down the brown, dusty road, she left the scene of her arrival behind her. Her actions had scuffed it up, but hidden in the agitated dirt was the faint outline of a human child.
“Good morning, my little students.” A large, brown-skinned heavy woman tapped on her chalkboard.
“Good morning, Miss Simangele,” her class replied. Rows of brown-eyed students with black, curly hair looked up at her. All of them wore shoes. None were barefoot.
“Now remember, while class is in session, we will only be speaking English.” She grabbed a piece of chalk and started writing out the day's lesson plan.
There was a knock on the door.
The interruption surprised her. She hadn't heard any vehicle drive up and a quick headcount assured her that all of her students were present. The knock itself had been weak. Hesitantly, she set down the chalk. “Come in.”
The knock repeated, weaker.
“Ngena,” she said in Zulu, breaking her own rule.
When the door failed to move, a boy got up and opened it. Sitting on the threshold was the strangest looking thing she'd ever seen. It was some kind of horse-like alien with bright red hair, a fuzzy, yellow coat, and huge, orange eyes. Child-like in appearance, the eyes faced forward and the muzzle was short and petite. It opened its mouth and started squealing, or was that a whinny? It's voice was high pitched, and it was articulate, but it only made horse noises. It was almost like it was trying to speak.
Simangele's blank look must have bothered it, because it hung its head and moaned. She debated shutting the door and just letting the thing go off on its own, but rabid curiosity gnawed at her. She clapped her hands to get its attention, made cooing noises and beckoned it inside. It jumped when she clapped, but after watching her, it perked up and walked in. She'd thought the creature might be scared off by the wide eyes of her curious students, but it simply returned a very wide-eyed gaze back at them. It nickered and hopped, clearly excited.
Simangele blinked. This behavior was human-like. Curiosity got the better of her and she glanced behind it. Though it held its fluffy red tail up high, its genitals were hidden. Based on the big, red bow it wore, it was probably female, though. “Um, excuse me miss...?” She felt kind of silly talking to something that looked like an animated giant plushie.
It, no she, heard Simangele talk and responded by sitting down on her yellow rump. She curled her tail around her legs and repeated the same general sounds she'd made earlier. Her whine was lower-pitched and more drawn out, though. Her pupils expanded into big voids, nearly swallowing her entire eyes, and her little horse lips curled down in a frown.
She was clearly pleading, but the large dark-skinned teacher had no idea what this pony thing wanted. Lacking anything better to do, she reached down and scratched the pony on her head. The red hair that made up its mane was thick and course. Beneath that was the distinctive feel of bone. The pony seemed to appreciate the gesture, closing her eyes and giving off a small sigh.
Her students couldn't resist joining in, grabbing at the pony's flank, and tail. Little fingers ran through the soft, yellow fur, rubbing and poking. The pony responded with a squeal and rolled over, exposing its soft underbelly for tummy-rubs. Her students obliged and soon the classroom devolved into a giggling ball of gleeful fondling.
The chaos grated at her teacher's instincts, but she couldn't help but smile. So what if they couldn't understand each other? This colorful little pony was a kid at heart, just like the rest of her class. Walking over to the blackboard, she erased what she'd written. Instead, she drew a sketch of the pony. Satisfied, she grabbed her metal triangle and rapped on its edge.
The distinctive metallic ring pierced through the cacophony and turned heads. Simangele stood tall and pointed at the empty seats. Her students were hesitant to give up their new play toy, but she had them well trained. With only a minimum of fuss, they got up and filtered into their assigned seats. To her surprise, the pony took a seat as well.
She was momentarily at a loss for words, but when her students started fidgeting she cleared her throat. “Well class, it looks like we have a guest today. Since she can't tell us her name, we're going to call her Iponi. In English, that means 'pony.' Can you say the word 'pony?' ”
“Pony,” her students repeated.
“Good, now—”
“P-P-P—” Iponi puckered up her lips and blew, making her fuzzy yellow cheeks puff out “—neigh?” she finished. Simangele's class snickered, but that was about as close to the word 'pony' as one could get by making horse noises.
“Uh, very good, Iponi.” Simangele stared. Her mouth hung open. This tiny horse wearing her big, red bow was every bit as eager to learn as she appeared to be. With her straight posture and a smile on her face, Iponi may have even been her best student at that moment.
Simangele cleared her throat and adjusted the collar of her deep blue blouse. “Right, then. Students, the word 'pony' is spelled like this.” Picking up a piece of chalk, she wrote the word 'pony' under the figure she'd drawn. Iponi's hoof went up. Simangele blinked. She raised her arm and pointed, making sure to use body language to convey her meaning. “Yes, Iponi?”
The filly hopped out of her seat and walked up to the blackboard. Standing up on her hind legs, she grabbed a piece of chalk in her mouth and made a series of deliberately placed tick marks on the board just under the word 'pony.' The writing was unlike anything Simangele had ever seen, but it was very clearly writing. It had the crude appearance of a child's handwriting, but the symbols were distinctive. Once the Iponi had finished, she spat out the chalk and sneezed. After a short sniffle, she rubbed her muzzle and said, “P-p-p-neigh.”
The class giggled again at the silly sounding word, but their teacher stood there gawking. She patted her fuzzy student on the head and pointed back at the empty seat. “Thank you, Iponi, that was... educational.” Simangele changed her mind about the weird, yellow, fuzzy horse. She wasn't a human in an animal skin; she was an alien with her own culture. She had her own language, writing, and presumably other things too. Whatever reason she had for coming here was unclear, but in this house of learning, she was welcome.
Iponi never made it back to her seat.
While she was walking, she doubled over in pain. A faint yellow glow briefly appeared for the sole sake of evaporating, leaving behind a paler pony, whose teeth started chattering and goosebumps appeared visibly through her fur.
Alarmed, Simangele ran over to help, but Iponi frantically shook her head and waved a hoof as a warning to keep away. She sneezed once, then again multiple times. Her subsequent sneezes were muffled, though, because she covered her face and blew them into the fuzz on her foreleg. The other students looked on with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. Simangele felt apprehensive. The sudden onset of that illness had her worried.
“Class, that's all for today. The lesson's over. You're free to go.”
A student in a green shirt moaned, “But I don't want to—”
“Shiya. Hamba ekhaya!” She clapped her hands and pointed at the door. While disappointed, the children obeyed and walked out. A few of them touched Iponi again before leaving despite the feeble efforts on her part to ward them off. Simangele sighed. Most of her students had bicycles, but a few of them were in for a long walk home. She wasn't certain how she was going to explain this to everyone's parents, but that was something to worry about later.
Iponi had shuffled herself into a corner in an effort to keep her distance from the little rugrats, but now that the others had left she flopped herself onto the floor and moaned. It looked as if the yellow filly was trying to melt through the concrete floor. Sneezing spasms sent ripples down her flesh, and after each one, she recovered more slowly and lethargically. The only part of her that didn't look like a huge pile of misery was her big, red bow.
Simangele wasn't about to stand by and let this cute little visitor suffer through her misery on her own. Walking over, she put the palm of her hand on the pony's forehead. It was damp with sweat and burning with intense fever. Iponi moaned and squirmed.
“Easy, child. Just relax and let momma take care of you.” She knew her words would be lost, but hoped the soothing tone in her voice would have an impact. First things first, though, she left to get a glass of water. The school building had running water thanks to an electric pump. The ground water was tinny, but otherwise pure. While filling a cup, she noticed a scratchiness at the back of her throat. It was probably just stress.
Water in hand, she sat down next to the pony and placed it in front of her. At first, the little filly just stared at it, but after Simangele nudged it closer, she leaned her head over to sniff at it. Unfortunately, if the amount of mucus dripping out of her nose was any indication, that didn't work very well. Iponi sneezed and rubbed at her face to wipe the snot away. She tried again, this time dipping her tongue into the liquid and tasting it directly. She smacked her little lips, then turned her head to look directly at Simangele with wide eyes and a bleary expression.
The scoolteacher blinked back before it dawned on her what she'd done. She giggled at her error. “Oh, right. I guess you want a bowl instead.” Before she could get up, though, Iponi bit the rim of the glass and tilted it up to drink from it. “...or not.” Once again, this warm little visitor had surprised her. It was such a shame that she was in such misery.
“Come here, you.” Simangele reached over and picked the little pony up, who squirmed and squeaked. “Oh relax. If you caught something from one of us, than chances are pretty good that I've already had it. If there's one thing that school children are good at sharing, it's diseases.” Iponi was heavier than she looked, weighing about the same as a large dog like a dalmatian. Simangele grunted and hefted the filly onto her lap. Well, she had more bosom than lap, but the soft folds of her flesh had to be more comfortable than the cold floor.
Iponi stopped struggling and let the woman hold her. Aside from the weight, the other thing Simangele noticed was the heat. This pony was burning up. She wished there was more she could do, but it was never a good idea to give people medicine to animals.
She wrapped her arms around the filly and held her close. With one hand, she held Iponi's head and lightly scratched behind her ears. The short, yellow fur was quite soft and silky. She felt nothing like a real horse, whose skin is mostly bare and leathery. Iponi moaned and groaned, but she closed her eyes and let the woman gently rock her.
Simangele's other arm gently stroked Iponi's body. The soft and slightly sweaty fur was a marvel to feel. Her ribs expanded and fell with each breath. So closely were they pressed together that she could feel each and every one of the pony's heartbeats. It was faster than a human's would have been, and not all breaths were regular, either. She frequently sniffled and occasionally broke out in a fit of wheezing. Thin snot oozed from her muzzle and caked itself in her fur.
The woman longed to sit there and hold this child forever. “You know, Iponi, many people believe that illness is a curse. It's divine wrath, delivered unto them as a form of retribution for their wrongdoings. Westerners would have you believe otherwise, but there is some truth to those beliefs. Oftentimes, people could have avoided exposure entirely if only they'd behaved more wisely.”
Iponi opened her eyes and looked at the woman. She opened her mouth and tried talking again. Her whinnies and squeals had changed pitch, altered by her blocked nasal passages. She even sounded sick.
Simangele shrugged and patted the filly on her head. “You're right, Iponi, I wish we could understand each other too.” Holding Iponi tight, she rocked gently and hummed out a lullaby until the filly settled down and closed her eyes.
Whispering, she said, “It's clear that you don't belong here. You're unlike anything else on Earth.” The scratchiness in her throat had been getting worse. Simangele resisted the urge to sneeze. “Now the real question is, were you cursed for coming here, or did you come here to curse us?” Looking down upon this half-dozing filly, with her drooping ears, sniffling, running muzzle, and her wheezing, labored breaths, it was hard to believe that such a small child was not as innocent as she looked.
Iponi's eyes popped open and she squirmed out of Simangele's grip. The firm muscles in her body weren't just for show; despite her illness, she was still strong. Hopping on her hind legs, she crossed her forelegs in front of her groin and bared her teeth in a huge grimace while her pupils constricted to beads.
Simangele laughed at the filly's antics. She pointed at door across the room. “The bathroom's over there.”
Iponi got the gist of her message and trotted through the rows of empty desks. She reached a hoof up and pushed at the door, but it failed to move. Frowning, she fiddled at the doorknob with her hoof.
“Hold on, let me get that for you.” Simangele was slow to get up, though, because her legs tingled with the sensation of pins and needles. They must have fallen asleep.
Iponi didn't wait for the human. She grabbed the doorknob in her teeth and twisted it that way, yanking the door open and running in. She slammed it behind her.
Simangele moaned. She was going to put the empty glass away, but found herself leaning against the wall for support. A strange urge to walk on all fours and a weird queasiness washed over her. She felt as if her skin was either too tight, or about to fall off.
A sharp squeal and a flash of light from the cracks in the bathroom's door frame caught her attention. “Iponi!? What's wrong? What happened?” There was no answer; steady gurgling of water was the only noise. Fearing the worst, Simangele ran over. In her clumsiness, she knocked over one of the student's desks. Yanking open the bathroom door, only emptiness greeted her. All that was left of Iponi was her big, red bow.
“No.” She reached down to pick it up, but her arm suddenly felt stiff. She watched in horror as a peach colored fuzz spread along its length. Her queasiness suddenly ramped up. She doubled over in pain. It felt as if all of her internal organs were fighting with each other as they shifted around and changed shape, because, well, that's what was actually happening. Right before she blacked out from the pain, an image came to mind from earlier in the day where all of her students had piled around the pony to fondle her.
All that was left of Iponi was her big, red bow...
...and her curse.