I don’t know how long I remain asleep. Every so often, I’ll partially emerge into a conscious state, but trying to open my eyes seems to require a colossal effort, so I can never maintain it for long. My mind and thoughts are unclear and in disarray; my body is awash in pain, suffused with heat, and covered in sweat. It’s impossible for me to glean anything about my current situation.
Someone is tending to me. Sometimes, when I’m hovering in and out of consciousness, I feel gentle, yet firm touches on my upper body, accompanied by a soft, feminine humming. This time, I can tell she’s here again. I feel her peel something away from my body. Moments later, I hear the trickling of liquid, and then a cool and damp sensation pressing against my skin. The pain is dulled somewhat by that, providing me with a brief moment of sweet relief. I hear her humming again, lulling me back into blissful unconsciousness.
A bright light bleeds through my eyelids. I grunt softly and open my eyes, finding it much easier to do so now. The first thing I become aware of is the sunlight shining in through the window just above where I’m lying. The reality of my situation doesn’t hit me until I try to get a closer look, noticing the leafy boughs of the forest trees swaying outside.
I wake with a start, remembering where I am as well as the events in the school. My first reaction is to lurch up into a sitting position, but I don’t get that far. An intense wave of agony courses through my body at the sudden motion, causing my eyes to water. I can’t keep it up, so I fall backwards… onto a comfortable mattress.
Confusion shoots through my mind. Why would there be a mattress here? There’s also a window beside me, which shouldn’t be possible. Am I still in the forest? What about the wolves? Once again, the urge to rise strikes me, but any attempt I make results in unending pain.
My breathing quickens, my eyes darting around the area in an attempt to make sense of my surroundings. The more I see, the calmer I become, as I seem to be lying in a bed, with a fluffed pillow tucked beneath my head and a yellow wool blanket pulled up to my waist, leaving my upper body open to the air.
I notice first that I’ve been cleaned thoroughly of all the dirt, sweat, and blood that once coated my body. Additionally, all of the injuries I’d accumulated in that hellish school have been tightly bound by white bandages that wrap around my body, complete with linen gauze that looks as though it’s been soaked with something medicinal. Judging from the pungent smell oozing up from my body, I’d guess the ointment was herbal. Judging from the tight feeling around my head, there’s another bandage wrapped around it.
The bed that I’m lying in is situated in a wooden alcove in a back corner. There’s a wall directly to my right, upon which a series of shelves containing multicolored bottles have been installed. I can’t read the labels on them, as they appear to be written in a language that I don’t understand. The wall cuts off my view of the rest of the dwelling, so I can’t tell what sort of place I’ve stumbled into. I remember being chased by a whole pack of wolves made from wood. I cringe, recalling the feeling of its wooden claws slicing into my skin.
Looking out the window reveals nothing other than an expanse of thick green forest. There seems to be a path consisting of beaten leaves and dried mud stretching out into the distance. I wrinkle my brow, confused at that observation. A beaten path implies civilization, and according to what I’ve learned, such a thing doesn’t exist anymore. Come to think of it, this house that I’m in doesn’t make sense either.
Once again, my understanding of the situation I’m in is upturned. I was certain from Maka’s last message as well as her… her body… that there were no other living humans in existence. Yet this dwelling is unmistakably human, despite the fact that it’s been built into a tree. Does… does this mean I’m not alone after all?
If that’s true, then it’s no coincidence that I’ve been patched up like this. What I can’t understand, however, is why this mystery benefactor would help me at all. Is it because I’m one of the few surviving humans? Or is there another more nefarious reason for this? To be honest with myself, there’s no guarantee that whoever it is has good intentions. Nobody helps a random stranger out of the goodness of their own heart.
My mind races. What could they possibly want from me? Money? I have some in my wallet, but would my money even work so far in the future? Come to think of it, where are my clothes?
My shirt was torn to shreds, but my pants were still in one piece, more or less. Additionally, my phone and wallet should have been in them. Whoever patched me up also stripped me down, and my clothes are nowhere to be seen.
A sense of panic falls over me. I don’t like this. I don’t know where I am, who saved me, and what this person even wants with me. There’s too many unknowns. I hate unknowns. For all I know, the school could have been safer than where I am right now.
I have to get out of here. With a grunt, I attempt to force myself to rise. Pain surges through my chest with such intensity that my vision flashes red. My side feels like it’s going to split apart, and my head pounds with an acute headache, causing me to see stars. It would be so easy to lay back down, but I won’t.
Pushing aside the pain, I move the blankets aside, wincing as the cool air assaulted my bare injured body. I lower my feet to the smooth wooden floor, the material feeling cool against my toes. I grit my teeth and stand, gingerly placing weight on my feet. My legs wobble dangerously, the limbs feeling weak and rubbery.
Trying to take a step causes my knee to give out, sending me careening forward. I let out a helpless cry and slam into the wall across from me. My first reflex is the grab the shelves and hang onto them to keep from falling. The bottles shook and fell from the sudden vibration, battering my shoulders and shattering on the ground below, their contents spilling over the once pristine floor.
Breath leaves me in short and ragged bursts. My head throbs mercilessly, my eyes water, and my chest burns like fire. It’s only by sheer force of will that I haven’t collapsed. The door… I need to find the door. I turn my eyes down the small hallway and started to walk, my whole body screaming with protest. The bandages around my injuries slowly start to stain red as my wounds reopen.
The hall opens out into a sizeable circular chamber, in the center of which is a rotund black cauldron. There’s a fire lit beneath it, and I can hear the sound of bubbling liquid inside. There are more shelves containing vases and jars set into the wall on my left, with a archaic mask the size of my torso pinned to the wall just above it. Bottles hang from the ceiling as well, containing strange substances of an unknown nature.
Everything about this place screams danger to me. I need to get out. It’s so hard to move my legs. Yet, one step at a time, I steadily move forward, grasping the knots in the uneven wooden wall to keep myself upright. I keep my eyes trained on the door leading outside. So intent am I on my goal that I don’t register the sound of hooves clopping against the wood just behind me.
“What are you doing, creature I’ve only just met?! You are much too hurt to be leaving just yet!” an accented voice filled with alarm addresses me from behind. I immediately turn in place, stifling a groan at the bolt of agony that passes through me at such a sudden motion.
Where I expected to see a human is standing a strange quadrupedal creature, resembling a zebra. Come to think of it, I vaguely remember seeing this thing when I escaped the wolves. Before I can process the meaning of this, the voice speaks again, and this time, the zebra’s mouth moves in time with the words.
“Come away from that door and rest; until you have healed, a lack of motion would be best,” the zebra says. My eyes blink as I try to process what I’m seeing. There’s no other explanation. That zebra is talking to me with its strangely expressive face set into a worried frown.
I give a weary chuckle. It’s obvious to me what’s happening here. “I must be hallucinating,” I mutter to myself, ignoring the zebra entirely. I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised. Wolves made from wood and a zebra that can talk? I’m beginning to think that my mind was so scrambled by that hit to my head that I’m starting to see nonsense.
I turn back around and fumble with the door. The handle at first doesn’t turn, leading me to realize that it’s still locked. Just as I start trying to unlatch it, I hear the voice again. “Why do you continue to persist? I urge you to immediately desist!” it insisted.
“Shut up!” I snap. Whether I’m actually hearing that voice or not, it isn’t going away and it’s starting to get on my nerves. “Just stop talking. I don’t need this right now. I just need to get outside and… and…” and what? What exactly am I going to do once I leave this place?
“My treatment you disregard and you begin to bleed! Do not endanger your life merely because of your own greed!”
“Why do you care!?” I turn my head and glare at the offending zebra. Part of me is ridiculing myself for talking to a hallucination, but judging from the way it’s talking, it acting like it’s the one who has been treating me. The zebra looks genuinely taken aback by my question, her mouth opening slightly. “I don’t ever remember asking for your help. I don’t know what you want from me, but I’ll have no part of it! I won’t owe you anything!”
The zebra appears to be speechless, so I grunt and turn back to the door. This time, I manage to undo the lock and push the door open, revealing the open expanse of forest stretching out before me.
Without a clear destination in mind, I take the first step out the door, finding that it’s getting harder and harder to move. With a pained groan of exertion, I shift my leg over the threshold. My foot catches on something and I lose my balance, careening forward. Unable to grab onto anything except empty air, I fall flat on my stomach.
“Gah!” The air leaves my lungs and the pain strikes me like a hammer blow. My vision dulls and narrows as I can feel myself slipping into unconsciousness. I hold on and attempt to rise, but I can’t withstand the sheer agony that such an action causes. I flop helplessly back to the ground. As I allow myself to slip back into unconsciousness, my last thought is that I forgot to look for my clothes.
I wake up to the feeling of a cool damp cloth pressed against my forehead. Additionally, I feel a deep chill on the side of my head, where the swelling from that earlier knock should be. An ice pack?
Awareness returns to me in full when I remember my previous thoughts. I’m lying back in the bed, once more tucked in with the blankets up to my waist. I turn my head to get a look around, and the first thing I see is that zebra from before, resting on its haunches directly beside the bed.
Seeing it this close up makes it difficult to believe that this is a hallucination. Hallucinations are generally indistinct, unclear. Yet, how can this be real? Its eyes are too large to be those of a typical zebra, no matter how I look at it. Its face seems to be making expressions that a real zebra can’t make, simply because they don’t have the muscle structure. The kicker is that it’s wearing jewelry.
Golden earrings dangle from each of its striped ears, indicating that they’ve been pierced. Similarly colored rings encircle her neck and one of her forelegs. It seems to me like it has personalized its appearance.
This is way too detailed to be a hallucination. I attempt to rise once more, the all too familiar pain shooting back through my body. This time, the zebra doesn’t let me. Its hoof reaches forward and presses down gently on one of the uninjured areas on my chest. I don’t have the strength to resist, so I have no choice except to lie there.
“I suggest you stay down, lest you once more hit the ground,” the zebra once again talks to me. This time, I can’t deny that it’s happening. It’s too close, so I can tell that the feminine voice is coming from it
“Why are you still talking? What the hell are you?” That is the only question I can think to ask. If this talking zebra is real, then I have a plethora of questions that need answers.
“My name is Zecora, if that is what you seek. Why does it surprise you that I am able to speak?” the zebra replies, understanding me clearly. I give a sigh, at a loss to explain what exactly I’m looking at. King Sombra, the future, and magic existing was hard enough to swallow, but the threads eventually tied together in the end. Where does this creature fit into the mix?
“Because you look like a zebra, and zebras don’t talk,” I tell her flatly. I should probably call the zebra by its name now. It’s strange to accept that an animal is capable of intelligent speech, but to be honest with myself, it’s hardly the weirdest thing I’ve come across recently.
Zecora, who I believe I can classify as female by her voice, blinks at my explanation, looking nonplussed. “A zebra I am, you are right. It is you that I find a most curious sight,” she points out. “Of your kind, I’ve never seen the like. I doubt that you were simply out for a hike.”
“That’s for certain,” I mutter. It sounds like this encounter is as strange to her as it is to me. The difference is that I physically can’t comprehend how she exists. Zebras physically don’t have the vocal chord structure necessary to form a human language. However, that’s not what’s most important. My eyes narrow. “Why are you helping me?”
“You were gravely hurt,” Zecora reminds me, raising a brow. It’s very strange to see that sort of expression on a zebra of all creatures. “Why do you sound so curt?”
“Don’t insult me; I’m not some naive kid. You clearly want something, otherwise you wouldn’t have bothered saving me, a random stranger of a species you’ve never met,” I accuse her. It probably isn’t too smart to question her when I’m at such a disadvantage, but I don’t care what she does to me. “So what is it? Money? Something else? Don’t try to tell me it’s out of kindness.”
Zecora looks offended at first, but her expression softens. She nods, as if understanding something. A smile plays about her lips. “You needn’t worry about compensation,” she begins. I try to interrupt with a protest, but then she continues. “All I’ll ask for is some simple information.”
“Information?” That I wasn’t expecting. Out of everything she could have asked for, that seems the most reasonable; it’s understandable to think she’d save me if she thought she could learn something… provided she’s telling the truth. “What sort of information? Is it really worth risking your life for? I’m assuming those wolves didn’t go away because they got bored.”
The zebra ponders for several seconds. “I am very curious about your desperate flight, and your unique form is quite the intriguing sight,” she reveals. I give a nod. She wants to know what I am and why I barged into her house. Just as I’m about to answer, she forestalls my words by raising a hoof. “Hold, don’t let that thought fade. First, I will have us partake of this soup I have made.”
“Hold on, what? You made me a meal?” I question her alertly. As if on cue, my stomach rumbles unpleasantly, reminding me of just how long it has been since the last time I’ve eaten. Any food at all would be nice, but I don’t trust her. “Why?”
Zecora pauses as she’s on her way to the cauldron. She looks back, giving me a smile. “You are quite the suspicious one. Asking questions of the hungry would not be any fun,” she attempts to assure me, and then she disappears around the corner.
I stare after her momentarily. Information for medical attention and food. Depending on how valuable this information is to her, that could be considered an even trade. I can accept that. Though I do have one question: why on earth does each of her sentences rhyme? At first I thought it was coincidence, but she’s done it every time.
The trickling of liquid into bowls is audible from the other room. As I rest my head back against the pillow, I let out an incredulous exhale. It’s getting harder to believe that what I’m experiencing is real with every passing moment. From meeting that superhuman king in the stairwell, to finding myself in the future, and now having soup with a talking zebra, I’m beginning to wonder if all of this isn’t in fact one incredibly vivid acid trip.
When Zecora returns, there are two bowls of steaming soup resting on her back. It’s somewhat impressive that she’s managing to balance them like that without any of it spilling. That aside, I’m rather anxious about what’s in this soup. Would a zebra’s diet even be digestible for me? Would I find blades of grass in the broth?
Zecora cranes her head back and gently bites down on the rim of one of the bowls. Her mouth seems to have a powerful grip, as the bowl doesn’t even wobble as she brings it over to rest on the chair she’d previously been sitting on. She does the same with the other bowl. From here, I notice an amber liquid in them, in which brown mushrooms are floating around.
She notices the state I’m in and clicks her tongue. “Now, this will not do. Please, allow me to help you,” Zecora requests, moving closer to me. Before I can question her intent, she places one hoof on my chest and worms the other beneath my back. She keeps eye contact with me and applies upwards pressure on my back.
I see what she’s trying to do. Wincing, I start to rise, supported by her hooves. With her help, I assume a position where I’m sitting mostly upright, with pillows propped beneath my back to provide support. The pain isn’t as intense as it was the first time I tried to move; I guess I have these herbal mixtures to thank for that. I don’t know what’s in them, but they’re doing a good job dulling the pain.
Zecora nods with satisfaction, and then she moves one of the bowls to my lap with her mouth. Thankfully, her lips don’t touch the soup at all. That would have been disgusting. I glance down at the soup and then look around for a spoon. A second later, I realize I’m not going to get one. Zecora has no reason to use utensils, as she only has hooves.
“What’s in this?” I ask, angling my head down towards the broth.
“This meal consists of mostly honey as its primary ingredient,” Zecora explains. I raise an eyebrow. I’m not confused about the fact that there’s honey in it; I’m more curious as to how she’s going to make a rhyme with that. “It’s also quite hot; your consumption need not be expedient.”
I exhale quietly with disbelief as she pulled it off despite my skepticism. I can’t hold it back any longer. “I have to ask; why do you rhyme every couple of sentences you say?” I inquire bluntly.
Zecora doesn’t seem irritated in the slightest at the question. Instead, she chuckled, as if she had been expecting it. “I’m not surprised you felt compelled to pose that question to me,” she responded with a wry shake of her head. She then puts on a rather mysterious smile. “That story, however, I would rather keep to myself, you see.”
So, she’s not going to tell me. This could get annoying real fast...but I guess I’m not in a position to be worrying about that. “Right…” I reply awkwardly. I lift the bowl of soup with my hands, finding that while my shoulders sting from the exterior, I can manage well enough to bring it to my mouth for a sip.
It’s surprisingly good. The taste of honey is the most prevalent, but the added mushroom enhances the flavor well enough. Additionally, I think I can detect a hint of basil. It’s an interesting mix, but not a distasteful one. The consistency seems to have been thinned by simple water, so this meal not only fills my stomach, but helps to quench my thirst. I wonder if she cooked this in that large cauldron out there?
As for Zecora, she brings over a small table and places the bowl on top of it. She then climbs up onto the chair and lowers her head to drink directly from the soup. Seeing her like this, she reminds me a lot of a typical animal. Honestly, the only difference is that she talks and acts like one of us.
“That I have not asked this before now fills me with shame. Would you first grace me with your species and your name?” Zecora begins, looking up from her meal. Oh, I suppose I haven’t introduced myself yet.
“My name is Seth Rogers, and I’m human,” I answer simply. To my surprise, Zecora’s eyes widen in awe, as if she’s heard of my kind before. I crank an eyebrow. “You know about us?”
Zecora nods, appraising me in a whole new light. “In ancient legends and ruins, all of ponykind has heard of your name. Among historians, your species has garnered much fame. From a long time before us, you originate. Mystery and misinformation have yet to dissipate,” she reveals to me.
I nearly drop the bowl. I question my own hearing, wondering if I heard all of that right. She knows about us through ancient ruins and legends? I thought I was only out of the picture for eighty years. Humanity has built a great deal of infrastructure and wonders that have lasted for centuries. If it’s been long enough for all of that disappear, how long has it really been? My hands tremble as I lift the bowl back to my mouth for another sip.
I don’t know why I let myself believe that there might be more humans out there. Once again, I succumbed to foolish hope. It’s just me now. I close my eyes. After venting my emotions out in the school, all I feel now is a dull emptiness. Then it struck me. Did she just say “ponykind?”
“Common knowledge has it that your kind is naught but dust. I imagine the tale of your arrival must be quite robust. So that the facts may be laid bare, your tale, would you kindly share?” Zecora presses before I can finish processing that thought. She looks over me with a whole new interest. I shove my questions into the back of my mind and take a moment to determine how best to answer her. In the end, I decide to be as honest as I can with her.
“To be honest, I couldn’t tell you. First of all, I don’t even know where ‘here’ is. Secondly, I know next to nothing about magic. There was a spell involved with my arrival, but that’s all I know,” I answer her. It’s a half truth at best. Her explanation about how my race is viewed has caused my distrust of her to grow. Therefore, I’m not going to tell her everything; just enough to absolve myself of any debt to her.
“To not know one’s origins is an unfortunate woe,” Zecora acknowledges solemnly. A few moments later, her lips curve into a wry smile. “I recall a particular unicorn who would have very much liked to know.”
“Okay, stop,” I interrupt, unable to take it any longer. That’s twice now that she’s said something that doesn’t make any sense. “Ponykind? Unicorn? What on earth are you talking about? Are you being serious!?”
Zecora blinks, surprised by my sudden outburst. After a moment, understanding dawns on her face. “It seems that of ponies you are quite unaware. I suppose to expect otherwise is quite unfair,” she observes.
“Don’t be stupid; of course I know what a pony is. But you keep talking about them like they’re some kind of civilization,” I correct her.
“You will be quite surprised, I expect. Listen close, so your ignorance I may correct. However, my explanation may not cause a dent, as my knowledge is but a small fragment,” Zecora begins. She takes a brief moment to gulp down some more of her soup before continuing. "Equestria is the name of our fair nation. Of peacetime, there is no cessation. Ponies of three kinds primarily live here. To the princesses, they are subjects most dear. Unfortunately, all else that I can say would seem trite. You would be better off speaking with Twilight."
I look at Zecora incredulously, wondering if she could actually hear what she’s saying. Everything that comes out of her mouth sounds like pure nonsense, but any counter argument I can come up with is negated by the fact that I’m holding a conversation with a talking zebra. Am I supposed to believe that humans died off, only to be replaced by… ponies? I can’t help it. I burst out into incredulous laughter. This can’t be real. This has to be one hell of a bad joke.
Zecora watches me as I keep laughing, until I finally have to stop due to the pain. I take several deep breaths, calming myself down. “That’s utterly ridiculous,” I admit. “You honestly expect me to believe humans have been replaced by talking ponies?”
“To you, their existence may seem like bad humor at its peak, yet I assure you that your presence to them is just as unique,” Zecora admonishes me. “Of my appearance, you seem to grasp the concept. Is the existence of ponies really so hard to accept?”
“I’m not even over the fact that you can talk!” I snap back at her. Despite the painkillers, my headache returns, causing me to rub my forehead in irritation. I heave a heavy sigh. “What the hell has happened to my world?”
In the end, as crazy as it sounds, none of this matters. I know one thing that’s a fact; Sombra is somewhere in this world. I don’t know where or what he’s doing, but finding him is my top priority. I can’t stay shut in here with this zebra forever. I want to ask her about this ‘Twilight’ she mentioned. I’m assuming she’s not referring to the time of day by the same name. However, she’s supposed to be asking me questions, not the other way around. I’ve already pushed it more than I’d like.
Zecora remains silent, waiting for me to recollect myself. Eventually, I gaze back at her, feeling resigned. “Whatever, I don’t care anymore. Just, ask me another question,” I tell her. I go back to drinking my soup sullenly.
“Your flight through the forest sounded quite frantic; tell me, does your kind not possess any magic?” Zecora obliges after a moment’s awkwardness. I give her a blank stare.
“What? No, we didn’t have any magic. We advanced our civilization through advanced technology, rather than relying on something that at the time didn’t exist,” I retort. I wish I did have some magic, through. Maybe then, I wouldn’t have been taken by surprise. Maybe then, I wouldn’t have had to lose everything I cared about.
“Hmmm, your statement proves many a scientist wrong. The belief in that theory was quite strong,” Zecora states with a mixture of surprise and interest. I can’t help but raise an eyebrow. The ponies believed we had magic? Exactly where would the basis for that belief come from? “Now, my questions are nearly done. Are there more humans than just one?”
I don’t say anything at first, causing Zecora to tilt her head curiously. Hearing her ask something like that so casually causes a bitter feeling to arise within me. I can’t help but let that bitterness show in my response. “Gee, why don’t you tell me? The very fact that you have to ask that should tell you that there aren’t any. You were just saying how we were all ‘dust.’” Zecora’s ears flatten at my scathing reply, but I’m not finished. “No, the others are dead...long dead. It’s just me now.”
Those words hurt, even as I say them. Saying it like that means that I’ve accepted that they’re gone, and I’ll never see them again. I would do anything to be able to see just my friend and family again. I don’t care about anyone else.
Zecora’s expression is replaced by one of sympathy, which just makes me feel worse. When I notice her raise her hoof and extend it towards me as if in reassurance, I hold up a hand and stop her. “Don’t. I didn’t ask for your sympathy, nor do I have any use for it,” I snap harshly.
I know even before looking that Zecora is hurt by my words. An awkward silence falls between us after that. I’m no longer in the mood to answer any more questions “Can we take a break?” I ask eventually, leaning my head back on the pillow. “I’m starting to get tired again.”
Zecora nods, relieved now that the subject has changed. “With your wounds, this is no surprise. Taking some time to rest would be most wise,” she responds in a solemn tone. She rises from her chair, reights herself, and then gathers up both of the empty bowls one at a time, placing them on her back.
“Allow me one moment to place these in the sink. I will return soon, with something to drink,” the zebra tells me, and then she walks around the corner and out of sight.
Now that I’m alone for a moment, I sigh and close my eyes, shifting my position. Lying in one place for too long is making me feel restless and cramped. I would love to stretch out, but anything other than minor movements causes pain to shoot through my chest.
When Zecora returns, she’s carrying two glasses of liquid on her back. I notice her leaning her head back to grab them. The thought of that makes me cringe, so I reach out with my arm and grab one of them before she can touch it. My shoulder sting a little, but the wounds there aren’t nearly as deep as the one in my side, so it’s tolerable.
I notice Zecora staring in disapproval. “What? It’s a simple task. I don’t need you to do everything for me,” I say defensively before she can say anything. I then look away from her and at the glass in my hands. It’s made of smooth mottled glass colored with a hint of turquoise. Inside is a clear liquid, which I’m assuming is water. However, given all of the bottles of liquid out there, it could be anything.
A tentative sip reveals to me that it is in fact water. It’s cool and sweet, and soon I disregard all earlier reservations and drain the cup dry. I grab the other cup and do the same. It’s such a relief to wash away the thirst that had been plaguing me since I was wandering around in the school.
“Now, from these questions I will offer you reprieve. In the forest there lies a task for which I must leave,” Zecora informs me as she takes back both of the glasses. Her words register with me just as she’s starting to walk away.
“Leave? You’re going out into the forest?” I question her with some alarm. When she nods, I let out a disbelieving huff. “Why? Are you crazy? What about those wolves? They’ll tear you apart!”
Zecora pauses and gives a knowing smile. “There is no need for concern. There is little threat to me, as far as I can discern,” she assures me. She then taps her snout with a hoof. “One does not live in a magical forest as long as me, without encountering its denizens, you see.”
“I’ll take your word for it. But what the hell am I supposed to do when you’re not here? It’s not like I can easily get up and move around,” I point out.
Zecora nods, as if she had forgotten something. She wordlessly ducks around the corner and returns with a small pan in her mouth and a few books on her back. She sets the pan down carefully right next to my bed, and places the books one by one onto the table that is within arms reach of me.
“While I am away in the forest, for herbs I look. Until I return, you may make use of a book. Should nature call and I am not around, I have placed this pan on the ground,” Zecora explains, resuming her preparations for departure.
I can’t help but cringe at her last statement. I don’t relish the idea of using a pan to relieve myself, but it’s not as if I’m able to painlessly move just yet. I nod, remaining silent. I appreciate having a book to read. It might help me learn a little more about this world I’ve been thrust into.
I hear the sound of the door opening. Just as Zecora is leaving, she gives a reassuring smile. “Your injuries are not so severe; it won’t be long before you are up off your rear,” she promises me.
Then, the door shuts with a click, and I’m left alone in her hut. She says my wounds aren’t that severe, but I’ve never been hurt this bad in my life. However, the pain isn’t nearly as bad as it was before.
This leads me to conclude that Zecora is an able herbalist. It isn’t unheard of for plants to possess medicinal qualities; no doubt Zecora knew exactly which ones to use to deaden the pain and encourage blood clotting. It shouldn’t be long before the more minor wounds on my shoulders and arms to scab over. However, the gash in my side and the claw marks on my chest are another matter.
There’s nothing I can do now except wait for her return. Then, I’ll find some way to ask her about this Twilight person, and where I can find him or her. Zecora talks about them like they’re knowledgeable, perhaps a scholar. Someone like that would help me to understand the world I’m in now. Additionally, with a little luck, they may know where I can find Sombra.
I reach over and bring one of the books over to me. The cover is thick and coarse, making it easy to keep a grip on it. As I look down at the brownish book and open it up, several questions come to mind. How would a pony use this? Their hooves aren’t nearly as dexterous as hands, so turning the pages should be quite an ordeal for them.
Secondly, what language is this? I had assumed (or rather, hoped) that because our spoken languages are the same, our written words would be similar as well. Yet I can’t make heads nor tails of this. There doesn't seem to be any words, but rather a long string of symbols of varying shapes. I can’t read this at all.
Thirdly, albeit less importantly, the symbols appear to be printed on the page. The typewriter is an early industrial era technology. Therefore, if this exists, then the ponies must be in that era as well. My mind paints a picture of dank streets and factories pumping out harmful exhaust gasses into the air, and I grimace. The industrial era was not the most glamorous of time periods.
I groan and set the book aside, sighing in annoyance. So my only means of entertainment is completely inaccessible to me. Yet, just seeing the printed words raises hundreds of questions. Exactly what kind of technology do these ponies possess? What is their architecture like? What is their social structure, their government, or their economy? Of course, this is all assuming they’re actually a civilization by human standards. For all I know, it could just be that pony “civilization” is just a bunch of talking ponies standing around in a field, grazing and talking about the weather.
There’s no point in thinking about it. I don’t have any answers, and purely speculating is just going to frustrate me. In all honestly, there’s not a lot of options on what to do now. I suppose I’ll try to nap. That way I’ll at least be doing something other than lying here helpless.
It’s nearly impossible for me to get any real sleep. With the sun trickling in through the window as well as the fact that I had a decent night’s sleep before this makes it difficult to nap for long periods of time. However, I do notice that as the minutes turn into hours, my strength is slowly returning.
My upper body has been cut to ribbons, but the injuries are mostly superficial, and my legs are completely fine. Perhaps my earlier difficulties were due in part to fatigue as well. Nevertheless… now may be a good time to try moving again.
This time, I take it slowly and carefully. I remove the blankets from my legs and place my feet on the floor. I apply my weight to them gradually, using the nearby table to steady myself. At last, I hoist myself up and try to stand.
My legs wobble and feel weak, but once I’m used to it, it isn’t nearly as hard to stay upright anymore. If I move my torso too much, it starts to pain me greatly, but if I keep it as still as possible when I walk, I can manage.
With my hand braced against the wall, I walk out into the main room,. A cursory glance around the room allows me to locate my jeans, shirt, which are hanging from a rack on the far wall. On a shelf just beneath them is the rifle I found in the ruins, as well as my boxers, socks, and shoes stacked neatly next to it. My phone and wallet are resting on the shelf as well, just in front of the rifle. I make my way over to them, relieved to see that Zecora hasn’t done anything stupid with my belongings.
I note that my clothes have been washed clean of dirt and blood. My shirt is still in tatters from… from my niece, but my jeans are in good shape. I’m curious as to how she got the blood out of it, however. To my knowledge, bloodstains are near impossible to remove.
With a grunt and some mild pain, I put on my boxers first, and then my jeans. It feels good to be clothed again, even if I don’t have much of a shirt left. I continue on and finish dressing by wearing my socks and shoes.
I grab my wallet and slide it into my right pocket, and then I unlock my phone to get a sense of how much battery it has. Hm, there’s about ninety percent left. That’s rather generous for a phone of this model, especially considering it was on all night. However, I can’t be too surprised; I did just get the battery replaced. Despite this stroke of good luck, it doesn’t matter in the end. I don’t know if ponies have electricity or not, but even if they do, there’s no way they’ll have an adapter for my phone. That means that once it runs out of battery, it’s gone for good.
That’s a painful thought. Memories of the last five years are saved inside of this small device: pictures, text messages, and voicemails. Now that I think about it, it’s all that I have left of them. I grit my teeth and navigate to the settings panel. The first thing I do is turn the battery on low power mode, and then switch airplane mode to on. The best thing to do would be to turn it off, but I may need it.
Suddenly an idea comes to me. I look down at the phone, and then over to the door. Interesting… I may have just found my ticket out of here. I slide my phone into my left pocket. I’ll deal with that when Zecora gets back.
Speaking of my benefactor, I will say that I’m lucky that all she wanted was information. I’m even luckier for the fact that she lives here in the first place. Without anywhere to hide, I’d certainly be dead now… though honestly, it’s not as though I have a lot to live for. After finding and killing Sombra… I don’t know what I’ll be doing. Thoughts for the future, I suppose.
While I wait for Zecora to return, I practice walking, getting used to my own weight again. It hurts at first, but eventually walking becomes easier. As soon as Zecora returns, I’ll bid this place goodbye. My next stop will be someone with a great deal of knowledge, like a scholar.
Once early afternoon rolls around, the door opens, and Zecora trots inside with a basket filled with herbs clutched in her mouth. She pauses and her eyes widen with surprise when she sees me standing with my back to the opposite wall. She sets down the basket on a nearby shelf and approaches me.
“What is this miracle that I see? The human standing on his own, proud as can be?” Zecora questions. She gives me another look of disapproval. “Lying in bed may not be enjoyable in part, but moving before you’re ready is not very smart.”
“Spare me the lecture. You said yourself my wounds weren’t that bad,” I retort, crossing my arms. “Even if they were, I have no intentions of staying shut up in this house with you for the time it takes to heal.”
Zecora’s head snaps back at the harsh words, visibly hurt. She licks her lips nervously, and then heaves a sigh. “While your words are harsh, they ring true. What then, are you planning to do?” she questions me seriously. “You are quite the stranger in this realm. If you are not careful, you could be overwhelmed.”
“Trust me, I don’t need you to tell me that,” I remind her, recalling my desperate run through the woods. In addition, I’ve been told that this world is familiar with magic, has a pony civilization, and views my kind as if we are ancient history. I’m already overwhelmed. “Now then, I have a deal for you. I’ll share with you some more information in exchange for you answering a question of mine.”
“You need not worry about making a trade. As for information, that debt has already been paid,” Zecora attempts to assure me. “I will answer your question for free. This is a better solution, don’t you agree?”
“Absolutely not,” I tell her resolutely, not even needing to think about it. “I traded information about myself for treatment and food. Nowhere in the equation were you compelled to give information to me.”
“Once again, you prove difficult to persuade,” Zecora responded with a frustrated huff. “Why are you so insistent upon an even trade?”
“I don’t have to answer that. Now, are you interested in the deal or not?” I repeat, getting annoyed.
Zecora looks as though she wants to protest some more, but then she sighs and nods. I then gingerly place my weight back on my legs and approach her. I reach my hand into my pocket and retrieve my phone for her to see. The zebra blinks and angles her head to get a better look at it.
“You likely saw this when you were cleaning my clothes. Do you know what this is?” I begin. Zecora pauses, and then shakes her head. That confirms that ponies, assuming that Zecora isn’t a hermit with no technology, aren’t anywhere near the level of humanity as far as technological advancements go. “This is what my kind refers to as a cell phone. It’s a device that allows us to talk to one another over long distances.”
“Ah, this is quite the advanced device! Ponies correspond mainly through post, which is not nearly as nice,” Zecora marvels, confirming my suspicions. At the most, ponies are in the early industrial era if they still rely on a postal service.
“That’s not all it can do. It also allows us to keep record of important dates and appointments, perform basic mathematical functions, watch movies, take measurements, and endless other functions,” I continue. I can’t help but feel proud at the way Zecora’s ears fold back and her eyes widen further. Regardless of how I feel about them, I can at least be proud of humanity’s technological accomplishments. Not that it did them a lot of good in the end. “Where I come from, these are pretty common sights. Nearly everyone had one.”
“My respect for the human race only continues to grow,” Zecora admits, peering closer at the phone. “Are there any functions that you would be willing to show?”
I flick on the screen, causing the zebra to recoil slightly from the sudden bright light. “Yes, but you wouldn’t understand any of it. I discovered when I looked at your books that although we share a spoken language, our systems of writing are completely different,” I reveal to her. I don’t understand how that’s possible, to be honest with myself. Then again, considering I don’t understand how in all of creation ponies learned to talk anyway, as their vocal chords just aren’t made for that.
Zecora gave me an apologetic look. “Such a thing had never crossed my mind. Merely some enjoyment for you, I had hoped to find. I apologize for leaving you to boredom without respite; for entertainment, you must have been desperate.”
“I don’t really care. Entertainment isn’t really at the forefront of my mind,” I tell her flatly. “More importantly, the fact that we share a spoken language in the first place seems impossible to me. Languages change over time, and from what you’ve said, humans have been gone for a while.”
“About your kind are mysteries galore; I don’t know the answer, but Twilight may know more,” Zecora admits, rolling her forelegs in a strange fashion. It takes me a moment to realize that I just saw the quadruped equivalent of a shrug. That aside, she just mentioned Twilight again.
“That leads me into the question I wanted to ask in the first place,” I say, returning my phone to my pocket. I’m not sure it was a good idea to show her my phone in the first place, but I don’t have anything else to offer. “Who is this Twilight you keep mentioning, and where can I find them?”
Zecora raises an eyebrow, surprised at my odd choice of question. “Twilight Sparkle is a unicorn, in academics she does shine. I met her several months ago; she is a now a dear friend of mine,” she begins.
My eye starts to twitch somewhat. I was right in assuming that Twilight is a scholar, but a unicorn? Seriously? Not for the first time, I wonder if any of this is for real. Maybe Sombra hit me harder than I thought, and I’m actually in a feverish coma.
“She resides just outside the forest in a town called Ponyville, in matters of magic, she possesses much skill. During her time in town, she has met with much success. She is also the personal student of the Solar Princess,” Zecora continues.
I try to make note of everything she says, but I’m only coming up with more questions. First of all, “Ponyville?” Everything I hear about this situation only grows more ridiculous by the second. Ponies living in Ponyville, princesses, and unicorns… I’m beginning to become convinced that I’m not in a feverish dream, but in a young girl’s feverish dream.
“Outside the forest, huh? Alright then. That means there’s no point in sticking around here any longer.” I grab my rifle from the nearby table, testing its weight with my arms. It’s nothing more than a glorified club at this point, but I’m not getting rid of it. I give a quick look around to make sure that I’m not leaving anything of mine behind, and then I head for the door without another word.
Zecora immediately moves to stand between the door and me, looking astonished. “Just where do you think you are going? In your condition, it would be dangerous to enter the forest unknowing!” she protests firmly. “It would be wise to take more time to heal, else more pain you will inevitably feel.”
I stare at her with a deadpan expression. “Thank you for telling me everything I already know,” I snap sarcastically, causing her to flinch. “I’m not your child; you have no obligation to look over me. I gave you the information you wanted; what I do from here is none of your business.”
Zecora looks hurt, but remains stubbornly in place. “It seems you have yet to learn; all I do for you has been out of honest concern,” she expresses to me with soulful eyes. My response is a derisive scoff.
“Don’t give me that. I don’t need your ‘concern,’ or whatever else you want to call it. I have no more information to give you,” I retort, my eyes narrowing. I step around her and grasp the handle, pulling the door open to reveal the forest. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”
The forest looks very different in the daylight. The leaves and foliage are a vibrant green, and the sun’s rays filtering down through the canopy makes for a beautiful sight. It doesn’t look nearly as threatening as it did the previous night.
Granted, compared to the forests I’ve been through before, it definitely looks odd, almost predatory. The plants and vines crawl over the rocks and trees as if devouring them, the trees are gnarled and twisted, and just like the previous night, I can feel something in the air: a humming whose source I can’t quite place.
I take it back. This place is just as threatening as before. I find myself clenching my fingers tighter around my rifle.
Before me stretches the wide path I saw from the window earlier, stretching out into the distance. This must be where I need to go. I start down the path, wincing slightly. The bandages wrapped tightly around my body are feeling a little uncomfortable now that I’m out in the open air like this.
I hear hoofbeats behind me, causing me to groan. Zecora is following me, still refusing to give up, much to my annoyance. “Before you so rashly go, one last quiz. Do you know where the road to Ponyville is?” she questions with a hint of smugness in her tone.
“I’m assuming it’s at the end of this path,” I remark dryly, not even bothering to look at her. Judging from the silence behind me, I’m probably right. However, I can still hear her walking behind me. “Why are you still here?”
“The process of treatment is not yet finished. Should you fall on your own, I would feel diminished,” Zecora responds, and this time she definitely sounds smug. “Making you healthy was part of our deal. Surely reneging would not be ideal?”
I open my mouth to argue, but then realize that I can’t. She has a valid point on that, as much as I hate to admit it. It would not be fair to me if I gave her information, and then she just let me get hurt again. Ugh, I hate this, but I have to accept her presence for now. I remain silent, letting her continue to follow me.
After a few minutes of walking, I start to breathe heavily. I’m starting to realize that exerting myself so soon after waking up may not have been the best idea. Occasionally, I have to stop and rest against a tree so I can catch my breath. Before long, my side starts to ache.
Apart from our initial conversation Zecora and I have said nothing to one another. We’ve been walking in silence for a while now. This isn’t surprising; I have nothing else to say to her. My mind is focused on finding Twilight now. I will find out as much as I can about this world, and then I will find Sombra. That’s my only purpose in life now. I can think of nothing else.
“I do not mean to pry. You seem troubled; may I ask why?” Zecora finally asks, breaking the silence between us.
“Are you serious? Have you forgotten what and where I am? How could you even ask a question like that?” I demand incredulously, turning my head to glare at her.
Zecora shakes her head. “I have not forgotten your situation, you see. I am referring to your bitterness towards me,” she clarifies. Zecora’s words cause me to think for a moment. To be fair, she hasn’t done anything to me so far, but… I don’t think I have it in me to care. There’s no room in my current goal for anyone else.
“You may call it bitterness, but I don’t really care about you,” I correct her, an empty feeling forming in my chest. “You fed me and patched me up, and in return I gave you information. That’s as far as it goes. In case you were wondering, I’m not looking for friends: now or ever again.”
Zecora remains silent in response to my ice cold response, visibly hurt. She looks back up at me with her dark eyes. I return my gaze to the front, satisfied that I’ve cleared up any further misunderstandings about our current relationship.
Several seconds later, I hear Zecora say something in a low, quiet voice. "No one can be an island, else the pain will soon get out of hand.”
I don’t say anything in response. I want to scoff, but her words make me feel troubled. I shake my head wordlessly. I don’t have to worry about that. I’m only alive now to kill Sombra.
Nothing else matters.
The remainder of the journey to the edge of the forest is uneventful; we are disturbed neither by conversation nor the wildlife. I suspect Zecora has something to do with the latter, due to the fact that I’ll see her scattering drops of a strangely colored liquid from a bottle along the edges of the path. Immediately afterwards, I would hear the sounds of creatures fleeing through the underbrush. I suppose that cauldron, as well as all of those filled and labeled bottles, aren’t just for show.
When the trees finally thin out, the shadows have grown longer and the forest has grown darker. I’m glad we reached the edge of the forest now; I don’t relish another trip through here in the dark. Now, after a quick look at my phone, I can tell that it’s about six in the evening. Of course, this is assuming that my phone’s kept time is accurate.
Most importantly, I can get my first look at this world that I’m in now, at long last. However, when I step out of the woods, I stop in my tracks, frozen from shock.
Rolling hills topped with lush green grass spreads into the distance as far as my eyes can see, the blades swaying and rustling in the gentle blowing wind. Just down the hill, there is a quietly flowing river wide enough to sail several yachts through. My eyes follow the river all the way to the silhouette of a gigantic mountain spire jutting straight up into the air, a long way out in the distance.
On one side of the mountain is a cascading waterfall that I assume is the river’s source. Additionally, there is a magnificent white castle built into a plateau halfway up the mountain, giving the illusion that it is hanging from the side of the rock face. Even from here, the architecture takes my breath away.
Just beyond the river down below is a fairly large village constructed on a roughly round portion of land framed by the river on three sides. The buildings look to be constructed from white plaster and built with wooden frames and thatched roofs, similar to the style of early 19th century human dwellings. Cementing this assumption is the railroad running directly through the center of the village, as well as the way the village is organized.
There is a towering cylindrical structure with a spired red roof in the rough center of the town, and the buildings nearby are constructed in a circle around it, leaving an open area at its foundation. That must be the town square and that building must house the town’s leadership.
On the left side of the town just across the river is a series of trees arranged in an orderly fashion, like an orchard of sorts. Judging from the bright red dots I can make out from here, I can only conclude that those are apple trees. My only guess is that, considering that orchard is so large, apples are the primary agricultural product of this town.
I’m beginning to think my estimation that the ponies are in the early industrial period is true. In the village, I can’t see anything that would be commonplace in a human settlement. For example, there’s no sign of anything that looks like a power plant. There are no telephone poles, no power lines, no transformers, and certainly no radio towers. I can’t help but chuckle at the irony present in this situation. Sombra, inadvertently or not, sent me far into the future, yet it seems as though I am far into the past.
“I’m heading into town. I don’t need you to follow me any longer. You can consider your end of the deal upheld,” I say to Zecora firmly. I don’t want her following me into town.
Zecora nods, much to my relief. She dips her head slightly. “Goodbye, Seth, and be careful in the city. Many ponies may find you to be an oddity.” With that, Zecora turns and starts to plod back into the forest, sparing me one last look over her shoulder.
“Noted,” I respond tersely. I’m on my own now, and I have a task to accomplish. I don’t have the time to stand around and enjoy the sights. I begin my trek down the hill.
That being said, the scenery is beautiful, but it also doesn’t make sense. There’s absolutely no sign that there used to be a college here. Granted, the majority of it is underground, but it’s still disconcerting to see nothing but rolling hills where a metropolis should have been. I also don’t remember a mountain as high as the one in the distance being present anywhere near the college. There was Rainier Mountain, but that was more like a glorified hill where students would go to hike.
I don’t see any ponies yet. I am least curious as to what one looks like, considering they supposedly rule America now. If they’re anything like Zecora, then they’re hardly different from humans. I hope they don’t rhyme like her. Zecora never would tell me why she insisted on doing that.
Crossing the river is easy enough. The ponies have constructed a bridge spanning its width. Walking on it reveals its sturdy construction, as it doesn’t even tremble beneath my weight. As I cross it, I glance down into the river below, noting the slender shapes of fish darting beneath the surface.
It isn’t long before I reach the outskirts of town. I pause momentarily, remembering Zecora’s words. I’m not sure how these ponies are going to react to me, and I’m not even sure how I’m going to react to them.
There’s nothing to think about. I don’t have any other options here than to just walk in and hope for the best. With that in mind, I step onto the smooth stone streets of Ponyville. I look around curiously, taking in the sights of the buildings around me.
“..for the help. Will you be attending the Cake’s party in a few days?”
“Flits, you know I’d never miss one. Pinkie parties are the greatest!”
I stop in place, hearing the sounds of two individuals talking to one another nearby. I plant my back against the wall of a nearby house and peer around the corner. There, I get my first look at a pony.
They look nothing like what I expected. Zecora, at least, is clearly recognizable as a zebra at first glance, despite the obvious visual differences. She had the typical white and black stripes, like any normal zebra. These ponies… throw conventional evolutionary reason out the window.
The coat of the first pony I look at is a vibrant shade of sky blue. Its mane is a lighter, pale blue and looks as though it has been personalized, complete with a pink bow on top of her head, similar to how women would style their hair in all sorts of different ways. Its mane falls down one side of its face and frames its extremely expressive face, which is currently smiling as it talks to the other pony.
The other pony is similarly colored, though its mane is messier and somewhat frizzy. They’re both talking about some party or another, but I don’t pay much attention to the content of their words. Instead, I derive from the timbre of their voices that they’re both female… or mares, if you will.
“Right, well, I gotta skedaddle, or Rainbow is going to have my hide,” the messy maned pony remarks with a wry smile, turning the other direction. To my surprise, two feathery wings unfurl from her flanks, and she takes to the skies. “Later, sis!”
“Bye, Cloud! See you tonight!” the other mare replies, waving after her. A quick glance lets me know that she too possesses a pair of wings. So there’s unicorns, and now pegasi? This just gets more and more strange with every passing moment.
Before I can consolidate my thoughts, the remaining mare starts to walk in my direction. In a few moments, when she passes my hiding place, it would be difficult for her to miss my presence. This means that I no longer have any choice on when to reveal myself. It’s probably best that there’s only one pony to deal with.
“Hold up a second,” I call out to her, announcing my presence. I don’t walk out from behind the house just yet.
“Huh?” the mare pauses, her ears flicking at my voice. She looks around for the source, and adopts a worried expression when she doesn’t see anyone. “Is somepony there?”
“Yes, but I’m not exactly a pony,” I remark, trying to ignore her utter butchering of the word “someone.” “I want to ask you something.”
“Not a pony? What are you the...” the mare cuts off when she sees me walk around the corner. Her eyes widen and her jaw slowly drops, shock and wonder crossing her face. “O-Oh.”
I stop a few paces away from her, making sure not to get too close. It probably wouldn’t be good for me if the first pony I met panicked and ran away. Surprisingly though, she doesn’t to be that scared. She seems more shy… and a little intrigued.
The mare gulps and bravely walks up to me, brushing her mane out of her eyes with a hoof almost like a human girl would. “Are… you a human?” she stammers. I’m honestly surprised that she knows what I am. She doesn’t look like a historian. Are we that common knowledge?
“That’s right. I’m surprised you know that,” I respond, my tone even. Now that she’s this close to me, I notice how small she is. She can’t be taller than three feet, so her head reaches up to the middle of my chest. I also notice that she’s scared of me. Every slight movement I make causes her eyes to dart and her body to tremble. Yet she’s still here, talking to me. I have to hand it to her; she’s rather brave. “I’m assuming you’re one of the ponies I’ve heard so much about.”
“Well… yes, I am. I’m called Flitter. It’s very nice to meet you, sir,” the mare responds politely. I raise a brow at her use of the word ‘sir.’ Having the first pony I meet treat me with respect is more than I expected. “Everypony has at least heard of your kind. I never thought I’d actually meet one.”
“You’re being very calm about this,” I note curiously. “It doesn’t strike you as odd that I walk upright like this, in a world filled with quadrupeds?”
Flitter shakes her head. “I mean, I don’t see it very often, if that’s what you mean. But you aren’t the only species that walks on two legs,” she reveals to me as I listen with interest. Just how many other species are there that my appearance doesn’t shock her? In my era, any species other than us capable of speech would have caused quite the shock among our scientific community. “Um… what’s your name?”
“My name is Seth Rogers,” I explain to her. I have so many questions I want to ask her, but as it stands, I can’t ask information from her without giving some myself. “Tell you what; I’m in town looking for a pony in particular. If you tell me where I can find her, I’ll show you something cool.”
Flitter tilts her head to one side, her eyes wide with innocent curiosity. “Something cool?” She peers at the rifle that I’m still carrying with me. “Do you mean that stick you have?”
“Trust me, you don’t want to know what that is,” I assure her with a smirk. I can only imagine how this creature would react if I told her it was an extremely efficient instrument of death. I pull out my phone, using it once again as a means to get information. “Instead, I want to show you this. It’s human technology. Curious?”
Flitter nods, craning her head forward to sniff at it. Then, just like I did with Zecora, I settle down next to her and explain the phone’s basic functions to her. I even go a little further and show off some of the applications, such as the clock, the calculator, the calendar, and the like. The whole time, she seems enthralled.
I discover from her reactions that ponies also have a twenty four hour system of telling time, as well as a twelve month calendar that incorporates leap years. The similarities to human society is astonishing and rather improbable. Once more, I find myself curious exactly how much time has passed since humanity’s destruction. I have no idea where these ponies fit into the equation. Where did they even come from?
“That’s so amazing; you really are one of our precursors,” Flitter says with awe as I return my phone to my pocket. “Didn’t you want to ask me something?”
“Yes, actually. First though, I’m curious. Why do you even know about humans?” I question her first. Zecora stated that we were known to historians, but I didn’t realize I’d be recognized on sight.
“Oh, all foals are taught about them in school. A lot of our inventions are based off of human creations,” Flitter explains, confirming my earlier suspicions. That would explain why it feels like I’m in a human settlement, except with ponies. “We don’t actually know what you look like. We know you stood on two legs and were smaller than minotaurs… I just guessed when I saw you.”
“Good guess,” I comment, stuck on the fact that she referred to minotaurs as if they were real creatures. So much is being thrown at me ever since I woke up in the school; I think my head is going to explode.
Flitter looks somewhat sheepish as she continues. “There’s also a series of books about humans that are pretty good,” she reveals to me. I blink, and then I sigh. There’s no way anything in those books could be close to accurate.
“Interesting. Anyway, to get back on track, where can I find a pony called Twilight Sparkle?” I asked one more question than I intended to, but showing her the phone should technically entitle me to as many questions as I want.
Flitter seems to know that name, as she immediately answers. “Oh, Twilight? She’s our librarian, a pretty well known one. You can usually find her in her home in Golden Oaks Library.” She suddenly brightens up, as if getting an idea. “Oh, I’ll show you!”
“No, I’d rather you just tell me how to get there,” I interrupt before she can bound away. I’ve already talked to her longer than I should have. I don’t want her getting attached. The last thing I need are these ponies trying to be friends with me.
Flitter pauses in the middle of turning around, a sad look forming on her face. “But… why not? It’s not that far, and I’d love to show you around,” she whined, looking at me with wide, liquid eyes. I wince when I look at her. I didn’t realize these ponies could do the cute eyes, like a dog would when it gets in trouble. Unfortunately for her, that doesn’t work on me.
“I didn’t ask for a tour. I asked for directions,” I reply sharply. Now it was her turn to wince at the ice in my tone. “Now are you going to hold up your end of the deal or not?”
“Of course… but…” I fight the urge to groan; Flitter still looks as though she’s trying to argue. Stupid mare; you can’t just decide you’re going to do something and then get upset when it doesn’t happen. Especially when that thing involves another person. “Don’t you think that if you’re with me, other ponies will be quicker to accept you? I may have guessed what you are, but not everypony will.”
“You… have a point, I suppose,” I grudgingly admit. In the worst case scenario, the ponies would panic. However, accepting Flitter as a companion, even temporary, would just end up in her getting attached. Weighing my options, it’s clear which one is the best one. I let out an irritated sigh. “Fine. Lead the way.”
Flitter beams happily, and then she turns around and breaks into a trot, a visible spring in her step. I shake my head exasperatedly. I don’t see a reason for that to make her so happy, unless she’s hoping to show me off to her friends like a trophy. I grit my teeth as I come to that conclusion. Nothing I can do except deal with it, for now.
As she leads me further into the town, I begin to see more ponies. The first thing I notice is that Flitter isn’t the exception. Every single one of these ponies are just as brightly colored as she is. After only a few seconds of looking at them, I feel like I can pick out every single color and shade of the rainbow reflected in their coats and manes. The mishmash of color makes me eyes hurt just looking at it all.
I don’t see how this makes evolutionary sense. Animals possess drab colors so that they don’t stick out of the landscape for predators to see them. Though, I guess it’s possible that these ponies have dyed themselves. I glance over at Flitter, but I can’t tell from looking at her whether or not her coat is dyed.
Additionally, I notice three different types of ponies. There are the ones with wings, like Flitter, which I going to call pegasi because I can’t help but think of the winged horse from Greek mythology. Then, there are those that possess short spiraled horns that look to be made from bone jutting from the tops of their heads. There’s no other name I can give them that would make more sense than unicorn. Lastly, there are the ponies that have neither wings nor a horn, and are the closest thing to the ponies I know from my era… apart from the ridiculous colors.
I also can’t help but notice that nearly every pony I see has a unique mark on their flanks. Even Flitter has one; hers in in the shape of three insectoid creatures that resemble dragonflies. What on earth does that mean?
I’m broken out of my thoughts when the first pony apart from Flitter notices my presence, it lets out a feminine gasp and points a hoof at me. As if someone had flipped a switch, the chatter in the streets dies down and nearly every pony nearby turns their gazes on me, their eyes wide with curiosity, wonder, and an ever-present hint of fear.
Flitter coughs nervously, her gait growing less confident under all of those stares. I think that it’s because she’s with me that none of the ponies are panicking. Every time we draw close to a group of ponies, they quickly scatter to make room for us.
“Mommy, what is it?”
“Shh, it can hear you…”
My irritation returns in full force upon hearing that one exchange. Judging from the other quiet whispers I hear, it’s not the only one of the sort. Flitter squeaks, seeming to notice how I’m glaring out at the ponies.
“U-Um… so… if you’ll look over here…” Flitter interjects before I lose my temper. Glad for the distraction, I turn to see her pointing down one particular street, a forced smile on her face. “Down this way you’ll find Sugarcube Corner, where you’ll find a wide variety of sweets and desserts for sale!”
I notice that when she started speaking to me, the fear lessened in the eyes of the watching ponies. Oh, I see what she’s doing. “‘A variety of sweets?’ So I’m assuming that doesn’t just mean an array of sugarcubes?” I remark sardonically, remembering the typical horse treat in my era. Now all of the watching ponies look surprised. I don’t think they expected me to be able to talk.
Flitter shakes her head, her voice coming to her more easily now that we’re having a conversation. “Oh no, there’s much more than that. Everything from fudge to cakes, Sugarcube Corner has everything! I’d go more often, but…” Flitter pauses, looking with a blush back towards her flank. “All of that fat tends to go to my flank.”
I give her a cursory glance, noticing how slender she is. I don’t think there’s anything about her that could be considered “fat.”. “Don’t be stupid, go if you want. It’s not like you have any fat to lose,” I point out. I don’t have the patience for girls that talk like that, especially when they look as healthy as can be.
Although my words were spoken out of annoyance, Flitter looks really happy. “You think so?” she responds. I realize what I did a moment later and suppress a groan. Great… she’s only going to get more attached. I remain silent so I don’t make it any worse, but it looks like the damage has already been done. “Thank you!”
One good thing about that exchange is that the other ponies seem to be relaxing. Chatter starts back up again and life resumes its normal course… or whatever normal is in a village like this.
I’ve come to the conclusion that these ponies are not that different from humans, in the way that they speak and act. The streets around me are evidence of this; the marked signs hanging from store windows, the tables and chairs set up outside what I assume are restaurants, the mailboxes planted beside the doors of every house; they all look as though they could have been created by us. One would think this would be reassuring. I feel differently. The downside of the ponies being similar to humans… is that they’re similar to humans. I’ll need to stay on my guard.
Flitter looks shyly at me as we walk. “Would… you want to grab a dessert from Sugarcube Corner later?,” she asks. I can’t help but sigh this time. I knew it. Thankfully, this provides me with an easy way to deal with that attachment problem. “It would be a great way to introduce you to the Cakes, as well as Pinkie Pie!”
I do my best to keep from raising an eyebrow. What kind of dessert would be called “Pinkie Pie?” I’ve never heard of a flavor like that. Either way, it’s not happening. “No, I would not,” I turn her down firmly.
“What? Why not? “ Flitter pleads, disappointment evident in her oversized eyes. “I promise you the desserts are delicious!”
“I’m not here for pleasure. I’m here to see Twilight, and nothing more. After I’m done here, you’ll probably never see me again,” I tell her flatly.
Flitter looks crushed. “You’re not coming back? But… I wanted to be fr-”
“Just stop. You’re getting on my nerves. I wouldn’t have the money to pay for my own dessert even if I did want one. So the answer is no, and that’s final,” I cut across her coldly. Flitter looks as though she wants to say something, but she decides better of it, instead lowering her head and nodding sadly. “Good. Now how much further to the library?”
“Just a little further…” Flitter responds listlessly. The spring in her step is gone now, and she’s hanging her head slightly. I nod, satisfied. She’d only feel worse if she got involved with me. I hear her then say in a quieter voice. “I would have paid for your dessert…”
I think about replying to that, but I decide not to. I’ve gotten my point across; I don’t need to rub salt in the wound.
Flitter comes to a stop at the end of a T-shaped intersection; the street continues forward ahead of me, and forks off to my left. “We’re here! Just down the street is Gold Oaks Library,” the mare announces. “Twilight should still be in; she doesn’t leave her home that often this late in the evening.”
I look in the direction she’s indicating. From here, all I can see is a row of buildings, with the branches of a large tree towering over the rooftops. I don’t see anything that looks like a library. “What, next to the tree?” I question.
Flitter giggles and shakes her head. “No, it is the tree,” she corrects me.
I nod dumbly. “Right, it is the tree.” It takes me a few seconds to realize what she just said. I turn my head to her with a deadpan expression. “What.”
The mare seems to find this incredibly amusing for some reason. “Just go take a look, you’ll see,” she promises me. I huff in annoyance; that tells me nothing.
“I guess I will,” I grunt. There’s nothing left for me to do here. Without wasting any time, I break away from Flitter and head for the left street, where the library supposedly is.
“Hey,” Flitter calls after me. I pause and turn my head to see her standing a few paces away, gazing at me with hesitant eyes. I say nothing, waiting for her to continue. “It was nice meeting you.”
Without another word, I turn back forward and continue on my way. The next time I look back, Flitter is gone. No doubt she headed back into town.
I turn the corner and navigate towards the extremely large tree at the end of the street. Once I’m close enough to make out its features, I understand what Flitter was talking about. Similar to Zecora’s hut, there’s a house built into the wide trunk.
It looks as though there’s at least two floors, as there are two layers of circular glass windows. In the upper branches, there’s a wooden balcony with a telescope on top and an entrance into the upper floors. Finally, a bright red door made for ponies is set directly into the front.
I have no way of knowing whether or not this is Golden Oaks Library, due to the fact the sign hanging beside the door is written in… I guess the language would be called Equestrian. I suppose there’s only one way to find out.
Just as I’m taking my first steps towards the treehouse, the door slams open. “..great, I’ll see you there! Whee!” a bright pink blur zooms out of the entrance so fast I can’t keep track of its trajectory. Before I can react, something barrels into my chest at top speed, knocking me over. “Whoop!”
“Aaah!” I cry out in agony as I hit the ground, pain exploding from my side as though someone had just hit me with a sledgehammer. The suffering is so intense that I can’t move. I breathe in frantically in an attempt to catch my breath, but end up inhaling dirt in the process, causing me to hack and cough violently. I’m scared to look at the bandage on my side. “F-Fuck!”
“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry! I just have so much to do, what with the upcoming super awesome party hosted by yours truly, and all the deliveries I still have yet to do that I can’t be late for, I just didn’t see you there…”
Whoever it is that’s apologizing to me has the most annoyingly high-pitched voice I’ve ever heard. She’s also talking a mile a minute, the words practically gushing from her mouth like a waterfall. I ignore her at first, using my rifle to steadily rise back to my feet. My side is afire with white hot pain and feels warm; I really hope it hasn’t started bleeding again.
She just won’t stop. The pony talking possesses a bright pink coat and a darker pink mane that is impossibly frizzy. Her eyes are a light blue, and the mark on her flank is of three balloons. The moment she sees what I am, she lets out a loud over-exaggerated gasp, her body physically lifting into the air in a seemingly impossible manner. A wide grin stretches across her whole face, and then she immediately starts to gush words again.
“..never seen anything like you, which must mean you’re a new species the world has never seen! How exciting! Ooh! I nearly forgot. If I’ve never seen anything like you that means you haven’t been around for long, and that would mean you wouldn’t have any friends, which means I can…”
She talks so fast and so high-pitched, a headache starts to form in my head. My patience wears thinner and thinner, until finally I snap. “Jesus Christ, shut up!” I yell loud enough to be heard over her inane rambling. Not only does she stop mid-sentence, but every other pony nearby looks shocked speechless. I give the pink pony a withering glare. “Can’t you stop talking for one second and get some damn perspective!? I could care less about your ‘super awesome party’ or whatever nonsense you were talking about when you may have just reopened that wound in my side!”
My voice has risen to a shout at that point, causing the pony’s ears to flatten and her expression to turn distraught. My right hand is clenched tightly to my side, hoping that no real damage was done.
The pink pony’s eyes trail down to the bandages on my side, and understanding dawns in her eyes. Her expression looks genuinely apologetic after that, her hoof brushing at the ground nervously. “Oh… I’m so sorry… I didn’t realize that…” she tries to say, but just hearing her voice is enough to irritate me again.
“If you’re so sorry, then just keep quiet and get out of my way. I don’t have time for this,” I interrupt her once more. Bracing myself on a nearby wall, I limp past her and head for the library, leaving the annoying pony behind.