Chaotic Emergence

by Gambit Prawn

2: Isolation

“That was absolutely exhausting,” said Amanda, stretching. The dark-skinned Brit gave a yawn and held the door open for her friends to join her in the lobby of the discount hotel. “I get that you don’t like the showiness of the private jet, but couldn’t you have at least brought your chauffeur along to spare us the cross-country drive?”

“Oh yes, that would have been lovely: three beautiful, intelligent Oxford girls on vacation with that vulture-faced curmudgeon following us everywhere we go. It’s not like that would kill the mood at all, ” the tallest of the group, Becky, quipped. “Although if he were around at Disneyland, he might have made Lynne’s expressions in those on-ride photos look tame. Seriously, what was up with that?” she asked, turning to the third girl. “You practically looked like you were in pain half the time. It really narrowed down my choices for a good souvenir picture.”

“It was my first time on some of the rougher rides. And the seats were… uncomfortable,” Lynne lied. As she nervously recited her prepared excuse, she unconsciously reconfirmed the unnatural bulge at the back of the jeans as well as the sensitivity of the bluish horse ears on her head. Catching herself, she changed the subject back, “I’m terribly sorry that I had to burden the two of you with the driving. If I could have helped, I would have gladly done so.”

“No worries,” Becky assured her. “At first I really thought you were kidding when you told us your parents don’t trust you to drive on your own—that's ridiculous of them. But we managed, right, Amanda?”

“Barely," she grumbled. "Between the full-day of theme-parking and driving hundreds of miles to cross the border, I’m ready to fall asleep where I stand. Let’s just check-in and hit the sack already. Perhaps the princess here can order us some room service as well. I’m famished.”

“Please don’t call me that,” Lynne said resignedly. “I asked Arthur to book us under his name; I don’t want any special treatment.”

“What’s wrong with a little luxury?” Amanda started to ask, but she stopped upon noticing Becky’s frantic nonverbal pleading. After checking in, The three barely spoke as they shuffled up the stairs and found their second story room. Amanda swiped the card and the trio entered a modestly furnished suite with two queen beds.

Becky wasted no time in plopping down on the bed and basking in the freshness of the sheets. “As eager as I am to drive several more hours to the interesting parts of Spain, I’d like to call a vote for sleeping in tomorrow,” she said. “All in favor?” The three women all raised their hands. “The ayes have it. The motion carries. Goodnight.” She was almost out before finishing the word.

“I just remembered: Lynne, do you have those hair clips I lent you?” Amanda asked. “I never saw you using them.”

“I’m sorry. I… lost them.”

“That’s too bad. I rather liked those. Oh well, I suppose I owe you for footing the bill for room and board. Would you like the first shower?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Lynne gathered her toiletries and locked the door behind her. She nervously checked for any observers, however unlikely, before loosening her jeans to reveal a deep-blue tail secured around her waist with Amanda’s faux-glitter hairclips. She could practically feel its jubilation as it was finally unbound and allowed to drop down to its full length. Staring into the mirror, she saw the same fair-skinned blonde she expected. She then watched herself remove the black plastic headband that apparently secured the horse ears on her head. However, the colorful additions remained even as the headband was pulled free.

I can’t believe that worked. I somehow tricked them into thinking this was merchandise. But I really don’t think I can hide this any longer.

What am I doing? This is serious. People don’t just start growing tails out of nowhere.

But my parents….

Lynne could picture it all too readily: She would be quarantined in her room. The best doctors would be flown in from around the world to give her twenty-four four care, scrutinizing her every sneeze. And if she did recover, she probably would never be allowed outside again without Arthur or one of the other butlers dogging her footsteps.

Today was a great day. I cannot ruin it now. I just have to hope this will clear up tonight. If not, I just hope my parents won’t blame my friends for this.

After showering, she put on some loose pajamas that her tail hopefully wouldn’t mind much and let Amanda have her turn.

"You're still wearing those?" Amanda asked with a skeptical look, pointing to the ears.

"I... I guess I don't want the magic to end quite yet. This was a wonderful day."

"A bit strange, but all right. They really are well-made though. It feels like I'm petting my dog," Amanda said while scratching Lynne behind her new ears. Lynne closed her eyes contentedly and was disappointed when Amanda stopped to take her turn in the shower.

With a sigh, she slipped into the bed unoccupied by Becky. She had protested the point at first, but she was secretly grateful that they allowed her her own bed. Unlike her friends, she lacked the experience gained from sleepovers and always feared stepping over some unseen line when bunking with others. What if I snore and nobody’s telling me. What if I talk in my sleep? were typical thoughts. Tonight, however, Lynne could only repeat a silent prayer that everything would be righted in the morning.

---

Lynne groggily shook herself awake while squinting at the late-morning light pouring in through the curtains. She attempted to get up but found that her feet were asleep. Instead, she tried to push up with her arms, but they too refused to comply as if handcuffed together. Perplexed, she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes with a hard fist and looked for the problem. Lynne was by no means petite, but the outline of her body under the covers now failed to fill out even half the length of the bed. Suspending her concerns temporarily, she struggled to get out of the covers with her legs seemingly locked as well.

Oddly enough, she was looking out of the neck hole of her pajama top despite her arms properly filling out the sleeves. As a prelude to panic, she flailed about with increased desperation to get free. She soon succeeded and poked her head out from under the covers. She started to take a deep breath, but the sight of her reflection transformed it into a muffled yelp. In the metal base of the bedside lamp, a warped cyan muzzle stared back at her with engorged baby blue eyes.

The last of her drowsiness faded as she tried and failed to fool the unicorn that insisted on imitating her movements. The game of denial lasted until it too stuck its tongue. Lynne couldn’t help but give a high-pitched gasp as the heavy implications entered along with the blood rushing to her head. In the span of a second, she saw herself trapped for the rest of the days in a gold-plated stable, spending her time munching on the finest grade hay with only a stud of perfect pedigree for company.

“Lynne, keep it down,” Becky moaned. “It’s not even noon yet.” The panicking mare quietly stumbled out of bed and crawled over to the mirror while tripping over her clothes. The same blue-maned cyan unicorn stared back at her with only the distortion from before missing.

I have to get out of here. She thought. I can't be seen like this.

Forgetting that she didn’t even know how to walk on hooves, she tried to stand only to fall from half of her new standing height. With hesitation, she realized her clothes had to go and spent several minutes tossing, turning and even tearing them to get free. Once on her feet, she tried to remember how her racehorse, Auburn, used to move, and her imitation was good enough to get her to the door. She took the doorknob in her teeth and opened it while thanking the heavens that none of them had thought to put the chain lock in place.

She hobbled into the hallway and found that the elevator was fortunately only a few meters away. Forgetting the horn, she needed a few attempts to push the down button with the edge of a forehoof. She gave a short hop of fright as approaching voices alerted her that she was in full-view of the stairs. This gave her enough warning to crouch behind a potted plant that was just a bit too small to conceal her completely. A handsome man passed her while conversing with his wife in rapid Spanish. She struggled to get a word in as she followed, leading a girl of about three by hand. The child passed right by Lynne, stared her directly in the eye and took on an expression of sheer wonder.

“Mira! Mira!” The child exclaimed to Lynne’s horror. Unsure if she should run, she just froze and watched them. Each tug on the mother’s arm was like a gong strike that sent fear reverberating through the pony. The mother continued to force her daughter along, but she, for her part, was insistent, “Unha poldra! Unha poldra!”

This was it. Any second the mother would turn, and she would be exposed. She would end up as an international headline just as her parents had always feared. The girl jabbed a finger at her over and over again, and the gait of the trio seemed to slow as if the white tile floor had suddenly turned to snow. Was she imagining it, or were they about to acknowledge their daughter?

The mother stopped and crooked her head inattentively to the side, glancing at a watercolor painting of a large horse grazing. “Si, nena, é fermosa,” she remarked before moving to rejoin her husband. Annoyed, the girl kept pointing and shouting, but her parents soon dragged her around the corner.

She blinked and relief rushed through her, her hooves thawing out as the heart-stopping chill passed. Double-checking her surroundings, Lynne noticed the elevator doors behind her starting to close. She had not even heard it arrive. She clumsily threw a hoof in between the doors, which pinched her foreleg before reluctantly reopening for her. Only when she was inside with the doors closed did she have second thoughts.

This is crazy. I don't have anywhere to run. I’d rather not my friends see me like this, but I suppose they can help me better than someone I don’t know.

The doors opened on the lobby. Either the man that entered was the largest Lynne had ever seen or she had shrunk much more than previously thought. He stood next to her, talking on the phone in American English without once glancing down at the unicorn alongside him. There was a chance he would not spot her, and she considered going back to the room to face the music. However, standing next to a creature twice her size while already rattled from a moment ago triggered something in Lynne. She scurried out of the elevator despite her internal debate leaning towards staying. Her course fueled by her building panic, she bolted through the deserted lobby and out the front door.

As instinct threw her into a full gallop, she perseverated on all the bad things that could come with being discovered. She darted between cover and out of sight of any passing cars or pedestrians. Every noise was after her and would cause her to change direction. In no time at all, she found herself far away from the small patch of civilization the hotel occupied and completely lost. She fell to the ground, panting. Her endurance had improved in this form, but it was much less than she would have expected.

What do I do now? Do I wait for help? That’s no good; nobody knows what I look like now. Can I try to get back? She looked around, but every direction now looked the same. There wasn't even a road to be seen. Well, is there not a way to navigate with the sun? She thought hard on it. She was convinced she had heard it at some point, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember. This is exactly what Becky would make fun of me for. I can’t say she’s wrong. I… I guess I really am helpless on my own.

Should I just pick a direction? Maybe I can find someone who can give me directions back. It will be embarrassing, but I don’t know what else to do. After some deliberation, the last option proved to be best, and she began walking north. Hours passed, and the temptation to switch direction was strong. She was thirsty and really needed to find something soon.

She spotted a small hare running along the open plain. He was surprisingly unbothered by Lynne's presence, and hopped right next to her in its relentless search of food. “Hello, little bunny. I'm a little lost. I don’t suppose you can point me to the nearest settlement, could you? It would really help me out.” It blinked at her and nibbled at the seed it had just found. So much for that. I guess there really isn’t a secret language all animals share. It suddenly perked up, and Lynne watched it scurry away. "Please come back," she pleaded, missing its company already. Following a quick decision to change course, she dashed after it and managed to close in on it.

With zero warning whatsoever, a small hawk swooped down, dug its talons into the hare, finished it off and began to devour its meal. Raising its bloody beak, the sparrow hawk stared straight at Lynne, pushing the unicorn's panic button once more and sending her galloping away. Emboldened by the reminder that she was now a colorful prey animal in the wilderness, she pushed her new body to its. It still felt unreal moving on four legs, but she settled into a steady rhythm by imitating Auburn. To Lynne, a wolf or bear was now behind every bush. She lost track of all time and just kept running.

After making it through a thin forest, her endurance once more faltered, and she paused to catch her breath beside a stalk of corn. Realization dawned on her, and she slowly raised her head. It was an entire corn field, stretching on as far as she could see. The ripening crop was a gorgeous hue of green that filled Lynne with awe. She trotted across the enormous expanse, feeling constrained as she squeezed in between the rows. The towering plants served even more to emphasize how tiny she now was. It was now early afternoon, and the shade they provided was much appreciated. As she traveled, her pony nose granted her all sorts of new sensation: she could make out the distinct scent of ripe corn juxtaposed with the noxious odor of pesticide. She was starting to get hungry before, but the sting of chemicals in the back of her throat killed the temptation to steal a snack. Wading through, she eventually came out on the other side and could now see a dirt road. This alone was a major victory, but then she spotted the pickup truck slowly moving towards her. Her eyes lit up as she realized what this meant, and she sped towards the road to get the driver’s attention.

The truck was a light blue, in serious need of a new coat of paint and hitched to a livestock trailer. This fact was even better news for Lynne. Farmers love animals. I’m sure they’ll understand. She was saved the need to figure out how to wave with hooves as the truck slowed of its own accord and two raggedly dressed, well-built men exited. Their practical clothes gave the impression of ranch-hands, and their callused hands reinforced this. One had a face that suggested he was even younger than Lynne, and the other was easily fifteen years older—although Lynne wondered if it was his chewing tobacco that prematurely aged him. They eyed her curiously until Lynne made the first move.

“Hello. Please don’t panic. I know I’m a rather strange sight right now, but I can explain.” The two simply glanced each other, exchanging a silent agreement. “I..I really can talk, but I can explain... I can explain everything.” The men slowly spread out from one another, but Lynne continued her plea, “Can you understand me? If so, can you take me to the nearest town?” The older of the two men crouched and approached her. Lynne’s ears drooped, and she started to pull away, but her need for aid overrode her unease. “Can you help me? Please?” The man said nothing but instead gently stroked Lynne’s mane. At first, she felt violated by the unfamiliar touch, but a relaxing calm soon took over and edged out that misgiving. The massage felt like a gentle waterfall against the back of her neck, washing Lynne’s concerns away. She briefly closed her eyes and almost forgot why she had hailed the truck in the first place.

Without making a sound, the strong teen snuck up behind her and heaved her up with little effort. Lynne gave a gasp as she snapped out of her petting-induced trance. Her eyes sprung open, and the first man was now tying a bandana tightly around her muzzle. She squirmed, kicking out in a bid for freedom. She then remembered her horn and tried to poke the tobacco-chewing man in front of her, however, he had foreseen this and kept his shoulder pressed firmly against the cyan horn, denying her any distance for building momentum. With the gag secured, the pair carried her to the trailer and tossed her in beside a common cow before locking them in.

Her first thought was that of indignity. Unbelievable! Did they not care that I could speak? It’s one thing if they don’t speak English, but I was still speaking to them. But… is that what they heard? I hear myself speaking, but could they just be hearing neighing? Do they just think I’m just an odd, friendly little horse? But then why did they gag me? Her eyes welled up with tears. That means they just don’t care. They don't care that I can talk and think.

I’m suddenly less of a person just because I look like this?

Her damp eyes fell on the brand of the docile cow mooing dumbly next to her. Am I just exotic livestock now? Will I get one of those too? She cringed at the imagined branding sensation and looked at her own flank. To her horror, there seemed to be an oddly textured patch of fur reserved just for that. Lynne sunk to the floor at this revelation and started sobbing as the trailer rattled along.

She didn’t even register it when the shaking soon came to a stop. The door flung open suddenly, and startled, Lynne gave only token resistance as they fixed her with a makeshift chain collar. She seethed internally at being collared and led around like a dog and dragged her feet all the way to the stable. The party paused for the kidnappers to converse with an unseen third man inside. They chattered in incomprehensible Spanish; Lynne couldn’t even catch the simplest of words. She felt a tug and was forced into the stable, a dilapidated structure that wouldn't be passing any sort of inspection

While they finished talking, she planted her feet, stubbornly refusing to move. Her handler gave a few suffocating tugs before he gave up and just wrapped his arms around her barrel to carry her in front of him with her back to his chest. Once again, Lynne’s horn was regretfully out of poking range. He’s cradling me like a baby. Am I really that light, or is he that strong? The new man took a step closer and looked her over thoroughly, mentally appraising her worth. Wait... I lost my clothes in the hotel room. That means… he can see… She was dizzy from embarrassment. Her train of thought had crashed completely, and she let herself be carried in a daze. When she had recovered, her handler was saying something snide, and the man that was apparently the leader started to open the door.

Abruptly, the man with the chewing tobacco shouted something from across the stable, and all three of them turned their heads. He gestured to his forehead and moved curled fingers around an invisible horn before pointing towards his eye. They exchanged a few more words before the man at the stable’s entrance tossed the other two a roll of duct tape from a tool rack. The one with hands to spare took it and wrapped Lynne’s horn in a cocoon of tape. It was a strange sensation—restricting but somewhat snug at the same time. The youth holding her then flipped her right-side up, allowing her a first glimpse of the stall’s lone inhabitant.

A maroon unicorn with a slim build nearly identical to Lynne’s own was sprawled out the back of the stall. Her mane and tail consisted of stripes of bright, primary shades of red and yellow, but any beauty to be had was marred by thick clumps of dirt. Lynne was happy to see another like her, and seeing the state she was in tore her up.

The ringleader shouted at her and urged the mare forward. Her ears twitched, but she just rolled onto her side in reply. The rancher repeated his request at double volume and punctuated it by bouncing an empty can of beer off of her head. At first, she gave no response, but the mare’s eyes then shot wide open and bulged into a death glare. Accentuated by her firmly clenched jaw, it was as if she were trying to will the man’s head to explode. A single orange spark dropped from the tip of her horn but fizzled out long before it hit the ground. So she settled for spitting out profanities with such venom that her intent broke through both the language barrier and the sweet quality of her voice. A firm tug on a rope cut off her swearing. Pulling her over, the leader of the trio taped her horn as well in order to bury the point beneath several layers of adhesive. He then gagged the second mare as they had done to Lynne. The transformed young woman was ushered inside and the door was shut on them both.

Upon entering, Lynne’s nostrils were bombarded by an overpowering odor that she couldn't quite place. Why do I feel like I know this scent? I vaguely associate it with horse breeding, but it was never so strong. Perhaps they just haven’t bathed her? My nose is stronger now after all.

Lynne's kidnappers re-entered, leading the cow that had ridden with Lynne to the stall directly across from them. The common cow gets her own space while we are squeezed in here together? Unbelievable. Once they had left, she took a long drink of water from a dish and began planning. She first needed to get the gag off. If she could at least try to communicate with the unicorn, perhaps they could work out a plan together. Undoing the knot would be difficult without fingers, but Lynne craned her head down to try to get at the it. Unfortunately, her forelimbs no longer had the dexterity to even access the knot. Wait. There are two of us. Lynne realized. We can undo each other's gag. She immediately closed the single-stride distance to the other mare and attempted to find a place on her knot to wedge a hoof. Her cellmate lazily looked up at her and just shook her head. What do you mean? We have to escape. We can remove each other’s gags and we work out a plan. Lynne tried her best to project her thoughts onto the maroon unicorn, but hooves were extremely limited in their ability to gesture. Her counterpart showed no interest and walked a few paces away before slumping onto the dirt once more.

Should I try undoing it anyway? I don't want her angry at me, but what else can I do. Lynne sat in indecision for a short while before deciding to respect the other mare’s wishes. With her idea frustrated, she had nothing to do but ruminate on what a miserable situation she was in—lost, captive and in a body not her own. If she was going to be treated like a pet, she’d have been better off as a pampered pet. Maybe I should have just let my parents protect me. They give me one chance to be on my own, and I land myself in the worst possible situation.

She heard something drop.

Turning around to look for the source, she was flabbergasted to see a mail slot in the stable wall. Was that there before? And what do horses need with the postal service? she asked herself. However, the thick but colorful magazine before her was even more puzzling.

Unicorn Magic for Artisans and Craftsponies Volume 1

Enchantments

Arrays

Practical Technique

The cover featured all sorts of glowing jewelry, but the sidebar refused to be ignored.

With a special guest article by Rarity, the Element of Generosity.

How excellent must your P.R. be to be known as the Element of Generosity? I don’t think Mother Teresa herself could get such a flattering epithet these days.

Lynne attempted to flick it open with her hooves but only succeeded in flipping the magazine over on its back, where there was a seductively winking pink-maned unicorn presenting a bottle of perfume.

Recapture the spark of discovering the ponies dearest to you.

After a few more attempts succeeding only in flipping it back and forth, Lynne finally succeeded in flicking the mysterious magazine open with an awkwardly taped corner of her horn.

Practical Needlework with Fine Thread Part 1:

A lot of my apprentices are appalled when I want to cover levitation first. “We’re not foals!” they would say, and I’m sure you didn’t seek the instruction of one of Equestria’s greatest embroiderers only for him to treat you like you don’t know anything, but hear me out: You're probably among the majority of unicorns that never even need instruction in levitation; most can figure it out with a few tips from their parents or relatives. With this framework, most gain an intuition for control over time, and that serves them well for the rest of their lives. However, manipulating a thin needle with precision on the order of one and nine-tenths of a millimeter is outside the demands everyday life places on a unicorn's magic. So, young journeymare, you must be willing to unlearn what you have learned.

As such, I will teach levitation from the top, with an emphasis on fine magic control. It may seem tedious at first, but many of my students have remarked that they feel much less tired after a day of heavy magic use after applying these lessons. Everypony has heard the “30% of all mana is wasted” statistic a million times, but I’ll show you how you can cut that in half while increasing your control.

Equestria? Magic? Everypony? There’s an entire land full of unicorns somewhere? Will I be able to do magic too? It sounds like something that is learned from early childhood. Not to mention, I'm not actually a unicorn.

However, her reading was interrupted by the stable door swinging open. Lynne hurriedly kicked the book under a pile of straw as the man with the chewing tobacco approached them and removed the gag of the Maroon mare. He gestured to Lynne to approach for hers to be taken off, and she complied. She gave a sigh of relief before speaking, “Why are you doing to us!? We’re not animals! We’re human beings and we have rights. My father knows I'm missing, and when he…” Lynne’s jaw was forced shut by the man’s tight grip. He shushed her and waved the gag in front of her face.

“Callaos,” he barked at the ponies before walking off. To be safe, Lynne waited several minutes before seizing her chance to finally communicate with the maroon pony.

“Hello. Um… Miss Unicorn?”

No response.

“I… I uh… really like your mane. The colors are really pretty.”

She seemed to give a slight wince in response but otherwise ignored Lynne's weak icebreaker.

I suppose I shouldn’t expect her to speak English. Maybe I should try Spanish. “Hola, Señorita Unicorna. Me llamo es Lynne y no sé dondé soy. ¿Tú sabes?

The other mare jolted awake and visibly cringed. “What the hell was that?” she growled in a tone completely unbecoming her cute, little voice.

Lynne flinched back at the rebuke. “I’m sorry. I thought you didn’t speak English. I learned some Spanish words from a friend back at university, so I just thought I’d try to speak to you in your own language.”

The unicorn glared at her, pressing her muzzle against Lynne's in a sudden flash of rage. “Castilian is not my language,” she roared.

Lynne’s ears drooped, and she instinctively lowered her head in submission. Did I say something wrong? Is she actually from this ‘Equestria’, and I just assumed she was like me?

“I’m sorry, miss, I had just thought you were like me. This may be hard to believe, but I used to be a normal human girl like them—well, not like them. I wasn’t mean like them. I get it if you don’t trust me for that reason, but if we work together, I can help you get home to Equestria."

“You think I used to be like this? You think you turn into a unicorn and get captured and end up next to a different unicorn from another world and they speak Castilian and English by chance? That’s just stupid.”

Lynne wilted even more from her criticism. She's really rude, but we need to work together to get out. Let’s see if I can change the subject.

“Well, you can understand their… Castilian? Right? You know what they’ve been saying? What they’re planning?”

“You confuse Basque for Castilian? They are nothing alike. Do you know nothing of nothing?”

“But do you understand it?”

She scoffed at the question. “The devil himself can’t learn it. What makes you think that I can? You think that I can understand it with this magic horn? If this damned thing worked, do you think I'd still be here?”

Lynne had had enough of her attitude. “Look: we’re in a similar position, and I thought we could work together to escape. I tried to be patient, but then you had to be a complete bitch about everything.” Lynne nearly stuttered over the derogatory term, but the other mare’s ears drooped all the same. "Let me know when you've adjusted your attitude." With that, Lynne huffed and turned away to retrieve her hidden magazine. It took more than twenty minutes to navigate to the page she was reading before, but she was determined. I don’t need her. I’ll learn magic and get out of here on my own.

Several hours slowly passed as Lynne read and reread the guide for fine-control in levitation. If I really can do magic, I only need to learn enough to undo the latch. The lesson says I can practice on any everyday object, so undoing the latch shouldn't be hard. It says I need to calmly look inward and visualize my mana, but what does that even mean? I’m calm like it says. She took a couple of deep breaths and did her best to clear her mind, yet she couldn’t help but replay her clash with the other unicorn. It’s her fault I can’t concentrate on this. Why was she so nasty?

After one last fruitless attempt, she decided to skip visualizing the mana and any remaining steps involving it and went straight to attempting to grip a tiny pebble in her telekinetic grip. However, without understanding the first critical step, her efforts amounted to nothing more than tensing her facial muscles in an attempt to imitate the psychics she had seen on TV.

She only gave up when it became too dark to read. To her surprise, her cellmate had a book too, which she closed with her horn and set to the side. Lynne considered asking about it, but she didn’t want to get snapped at again. An hour later, their captors showed up briefly to fill the trough with oats and refill their water—which Lynne had significantly depleted on arrival—without a word exchanged from either party. Lynne refused the offering of oats on principle, while the other pony ate only a couple mouthfuls before starting to mope again. She really did look pathetic with her limbs sprawled out and her tangled, dirty mane draped over her eyes. In spite of herself, sympathy stirred within Lynne. She hadn’t even been a unicorn for half a day, but she nonetheless she still felt some attachment to the other mare. Weren’t we supposed to be angry at one another?

Despite her late-rising, Lynne felt incredibly tired. She searched the ground for a comfy spot to lie down before settling on the straw pile where she had hidden the trade magazine. She had managed to fall asleep for a brief time before the cow across from them decided to give a loud moo. Rudely awakened, Lynne tried to doze off again, but her short nap had revealed her makeshift pillow to be much less comfortable than she had first found it. She saw the maroon unicorn was already sound asleep. The moonlight coming through the ceiling made her coat shine as if calling out to Lynne.

Her fur really does look comfortable. Shame I can't take advantage of my own. Lynne thought. I don't know. She’ll probably be furious when she wakes up. The cow mooed again. Though it really does seem soft. After a rough day Lynne couldn't the resist temptation. She probably took the best spot anyway. This is the least she can do for me. And with that, Lynne curled up against her irritable fellow pony and fell soundly asleep.

---

What the hell am I doing? Taylor thought as it occurred to him that he was voluntarily following an extremely shady-looking man through an obviously bad part of town. The Euros in his pocket represented his entire savings, and he was basically begging to be mugged. €1,826 from $2,600. They charged me quite a bit for exchanging, or did they? When Larry went to Acapulco it hardly cost him anything. He went waterskiing. I wonder who came up with that? Planks on the water. What if no one ever came up with it and it was just planted in our minds—like that Asimov story where jokes are all planted by aliens. What was that one character’s name? Samantha? Susan something? Suzanne? Sue’s Anne? How would that work?

Taylor then realized what he was doing and shook himself awake. It was a pattern that he had been fighting for the past couple of hours: his thoughts would slowly transition to work on dream logic, with a fixation on nonsensical things, and he would doze off for a short while. I can’t believe tt can happen while I’m walking even. If it weren’t for this damned thing growing out of my rear, or if Nursezilla had given me a fucking break, I could be peacefully sleeping instead of potentially walking to my death. It’s weird. I fully recognize the danger, but my need for sleep overpowers it? This is practically suicide—or at least a nice payday for the local mafia. They have a hand in everything around here. And like the genius I am, I thought it'd be fun to see Sicily—their frickin' homeland.

However, Taylor could only trust his judgment from several hours ago, when he could hold a thought for more than three seconds. If he were to finish transforming, his life would be essentially over anyway. This was his best chance. If he removed the root of the changes, maybe he would go back to normal. A strange feeling started near his stomach and reaffirmed this questionable decision. I have to hurry. If the changes stop but don’t reverse, I’ll be in a really bad spot if I end up with the wrong digestive system.

“We’re here,” his guide said with a thick Sicilian accent. Surprisingly, their destination actually was an actual clinic as opposed to a cliché crime outlet, such as an abandoned warehouse. It seemed like a bold move to perform unlicensed medical procedures in such an obvious location. I suppose to hide a forest…

He was led to a back-room where the surgeon was already waiting for him. Surprisingly, both the surgeon and the operating table were much like their lawful counterparts—if a little low-budget. It wouldn't have surprised Taylor if this doctor had a legal job as well and was here to pay off the third Ferrari or something. “So, you have an interesting problem for us?” the scrubs-dressed surgeon asked.

“Yes, a wealthy friend of mine offered me a million dollars to undergo an interesting bit of cosmetic surgery on a dare,” Taylor said, following his mental script. Afraid to even look at the offending appendage for fear of validating its existence, he turned his back on the man and reached into his jeans to pull out a full-length horse’s tail. He presented it to the doctor, who easily saw how functional it was in both articulation and reflex. Taylor’s cover story was immediately sunk, but it was none of his business. “It was really stupid, but I can’t let my parents find out. Please, can you remove it? I don’t care how you do it. I just want it gone,” Taylor said, somewhat calmed by the end of the tail's constriction. He had not let it free once since discovering its existence the day before.

“You brought the cash?”

“Yes,” said Taylor, forking it over. The surgeon quickly flipped through the stack.

“This isn’t nearly enough.”

That’s absurd! Taylor thought, and he moved to object.

“Now, now, it’s okay if you don’t have it all now", Taylor's contact said, smirking. "We have a variety of payment plans available.” Taylor didn’t like the sound of that at all, but inertia overrode his fear.

“Lie face-down on the operating table,” the black market surgeon instructed. Taylor complied.

“So when are you going to put me under?”

“What do you mean?” asked the man in scrubs.

“You know? Painkillers? Anesthesia?”

“Good one.”

Taylor’s guide strapped him firmly to the table, and the doctor wielded what looked like hedge clippers.

“Now this might hurt a bit.”

Author's Note:

If it even needs to be said, I welcome any and all feedback. I only recently stopped lurking on this site, so I'm eager to learn from my mistakes.

Comments

[Seeking Dusk]

Hedge clippers?

[ferret]

Well, the female P.O.V. was okay, but I think Taylor might just be clinically insane. It's just this constant psychotic fugue.

How the heck does Lynne evade dozens of people in the hotel, then accidentally run into the one organized group of pony breeders?