//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 // Story: Sharpe's Equestria // by Teal //------------------------------// Sharpe’s Equestria By Teal Chapter 1 Captain Richard Sharpe groaned in pain as a massive headache hit him like the butt of a musket. He felt weak and tired, as the muscles of his body complained with every movement he made. The pain in his head was unbearable; making it feel like his skull was being crushed, while the rest of his body felt like it had a thousand needles trying to poke him with their pointed tips. Tired and in pain, he tried to bring himself upright, only to fail because of the dizziness that was upon him. He began to wonder why he felt so weak and horrible, but found it too hard because of the headache. His head hurt too much and made it almost impossible to think He must have been sick. No man could have a headache the hurt this much if he isn’t sick with something. Knowing the tragic situation he usually finds himself in, it was probably because of a wound infection. Well, Sgt. Harper’s maggots weren’t doing a good job if that was the case. Feeling the soft material of a mattress only confirmed his suspicions. At least he wasn’t in a crowded field hospital, where the wounded and dying were groaning and moaning in pain. But if he was sick because of a wound infection, wouldn’t that mean he could be considered in the list of dying? Many soldiers manage to survive deadly wounds, only to die weeks later because of a fatal infection. So if he was sick because of an infection, then only the worst could be expected of him. Well, so much for dying in battle. Sharpe would have preferred getting shot or stab, to dying slowly in a death bed. Slowly loosing life, as his loves ones watched him. Teresa, Harper, his company… Oh, heavens above, what would happen to his company? The company he risked his life to gain, the one he fought to keep, the light company of the Sought Essex Regiment. Composed of an assortment of green coasts and red coats, his company has been with him in almost every battle he fought in the Spanish Peninsula. With expert marksmen who carried precision rifles and brave soldiers who charged with bayonets, the light company that he commanded was one of the best fighting units in the South Essex. Under his leadership, they have won every battle they faced, time and time again. But if he was to leave permanently, then what would happen to his company? Would another commander take over it or would Lt. Price get the promotion he always wanted and gain command of Sharpe’s company? No, he wasn’t badly injured. He was just sick. He would soon be back on his feet, ready to fight the French. Swearing, he shook his head as he tried to shake the pain away. All this thinking was only worsening his headache. He would like a nice bottle of brandy right now, so that the awful headache would leave. Maybe Harper would have some in his canteen. The large Irishman usually replaced the contents of his water canteen with precious brandy, something which British soldiers shouldn’t do. But being an understanding commander and a personal friend of the Irishman, Sharpe allowed Harper to fill it with Brandy, as long as he doesn’t drink when he’s on duty. Besides, knowing how much the Irish love their Brandy, Sgt. Harper would have found one way or another to get his version of gold. He brought his hands up, trying to run his temples of his pain, when he noticed something odd. As he brought his hands towards his forehead, he felt them bump into something. Now this was odd. He wasn’t wearing his cap, so he doubted it if it was his cap’s visor. Even if it was his visor, why would it be directly on his forehead? So what was that thing bumping his hand? It was hard and smooth, probably made out of marble or any material similar to it. From what Sharpe felt, it was most likely protruding out of his forehead, which made his even more puzzled. Why was something sticking out of his forehead? Well, there was only one way to find out. Hopefully there is a mirror somewhere here Opening his eyes, he prepared to bring himself up and go look for a mirror when he saw something truly shocking. To say that Sharpe was shocked would be an understatement. But the word shocked was the closest thing that could be used to describe the feeling he experienced. With his hands still touching his forehead, he expected to be greeted by the sight of his arms, but instead, he saw something foreign and different. Right in front of him, where his hands were supposed to be, was a pair of, what seems to be, hooves. He stared at the pair of hooves in disbelief as he saw the green ragged fur that covered each hoof. This can’t be right, hooves are for horses. Surely he was imagining things? But whenever he tried to move his hands, the hooves followed. From what he could tell, the hooves in front of him were acting like his hands. No, they were his hands! For some reason, that neither he nor anyone in this good earth knew, his hands were now a pair of hooves. At first he thought his eyes were playing tricks with him. Maybe he already took some of Harper’s Brandy and he was beginning to imagine things. But after focusing on them for a few seconds, he was sure that the hooves in front of him were real. Quickly straightening up, he began to forget the pain he was in as he continued to examine the hooves in front of him. He heard a distinct clicking sound once he clapped them together and the image of a horse trotting through the streets entered his mind. The thought of a horse began to circulate his mind as he began to wonder about his current predicament. Where were his hands? Why did hooves replace them? These questions stayed in his head till another thought hit him. “Wait a minute…” He muttered to himself. “…if I have bloody hooves, then those that mean…” Dread began to fill inside him as he felt his heart rate increase. There only a few situations that could claim the title of making Captain Richard Sharpe shake in fear and this was one of them. Looking down at the rest of his body, he felt his heart sink when he saw green fur where his chest was supposed to be. Eyes wide open; he couldn’t help but stare at the sight in front of him. It was unbelievable, impossible! But as he looked all over himself, bringing his hands…no…hooves upon his body, touching it to make sure it’s real, there was no denying the facts in front of him. He swore once more, both in fear and annoyance. How was this even possible? Was this a dream, a really bad dream? No, it felt too real, it couldn’t be a dream. But the pain his body was enduring truly hurt. So this was real, but how? Did someone curse him? Sharpe didn’t believe in curses, thinking that they were nothing but rubbish and something used to scare children from doing foolish things. But as he looked at his body, he was starting to change his mind. It looked like someone managed to cast a curse on him and turn him into a bloody horse. Did someone hate him so much as to curse him to become a horse? Well, there were definitely a lot of people who would probably do that, but out of all the possible curses, did it really have to be this? This didn’t even make sense? Why a horse? Were they planning on ridding him once the curse was complete? Were they going to make him their trusty steed, riding him off to battle like a prize? His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the sound of a door opening. Turning his head towards the door on the far of wall, he could see it swing open to reveal a lavender colored horse. The strange color of the horse and the floating tray in front of it was enough to attract Sharpe’s attention, but what really shocked him was the physical features of the horse. On its forehead was a glowing horn while a pair of wings was attached to its back. Sharpe has heard of stories about unicrons and pegasi when he was younger, but never a creature that exhibited the physical structures of both. This was impossible! Then again, he was a horse… Moving inside the room, the creature’ face turned towards him, as it noticed him staring. “Oh, hello there.” It said with a smile. “I’m glad to see that your finally awake, my friends and I were really worried about you.” Whether from the exhaustion he felt or the shock of the moment, Sharpe didn’t know. All he knew was that he blacked out and fell back on the bed, wishing that all of this was a bad dream and that he would be waking up to see Harper looking down at him and grinning, while he held a cup of Brandy. Because he knew that knew would need one after what he has seen.