I woke up to a loud commotion coming outside the barn. I just diminished it as nothing more than the animals stirring in their pens, but an ear-piercing scream made me jump out of bed, run down the stairs, and out of the barn before I even think of my own safety.
I followed the loud, screeching screams, but, suddenly, it stopped. I slowed my steps as I got closer to faint muffled sobs from something near the pig pen. Turning the corner, I see a shady figure bent over, surrounded in what looks like a dark red substance.
“Hello?” I said before getting any closer,” Who’s there?”
The figure stopped sobbing to look up at me, and I realized who it was by the little bit of moonlight shining on their light green eyes.
“Applejack?” The figure asked in a scratchy voice.
“Flim?” I questioned in total shock.
Is this real? Am I in a dream? I couldn’t comprehend how in the wide, wide world of Equestria, Flim could be at Sweet Apple Acres in the middle of the night, and here, of all places! He made a severe cry of pain, and I noticd the puddle surrounding him again. It's blood. I quickly closed off the distance between us to see what was wrong.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I-I’m n-n-not s-sure,” Flim struggled to get out.
I scanned over the rest of him to make sure that all of his hooves were intact. Thank goodness there were no missing body parts.
I didn’t ask any more questions and didn’t think twice of what I was about to do. Instead of reminiscing over our past, I lifted Flim up slowly to not bring any more pain to him and carried him back to the barn. I know I should've thought about it more, but when a pony is in need, or a drastic need in this case, there I'll be.
After I laid Flim down on the sofa, the light showed just how bad of a condition he was really in. There were multiple cuts and bruises all over him, and his usual “uniform” was shredded to pieces. His hat was missing, and, most importantly, there was a large gash in his side, with blood still seeping out. I look around to find a cloth to cover up the wound, but instead, I find Big Macintosh at the bottom of the stairs, with a confused look on his face.
“I’m guessing my ruckus woke you up?” I questioned my brother.
“Eeyup,” He response with his usual phrase. He quickly looks around the room to find Flim on the sofa. He looked in shock, but then looked at me instead with a questioning look, as if waiting for the answer to come from me.
“I heard a loud commotion coming from outside and went to check it out,” I explained,” Turns out, it was Flim, lying near the pig pen, in really bad shape, as you can tell. I carried him back here, hoping that I could help him.”
Big Mac walked over to the injured stallion. For a second, I thought he was going to yell at me for letting such a ruthless fellow into our house, but instead, he offered to help. I ask him to find a cloth, and I would get the medicine to heal the wounds.
Once we met back up in the living room, Flim was sitting up slightly, clearly still in a lot of pain. He looked down at the deep cut in his side and began to sob slightly. Before he could go into a meltdown like outside, I walk into the room, causing him to look at me.
“T-thank you, A-applejack,” Flim struggled to get out.
“Don’t strain your voice now, you hear?” I tell him,” You don’t have to thank me. I saw a pony in need, and no matter how bad they might’ve been, they deserve help.”
Flim responded with a slight smile, one that I’ve never seen on him before. It looked good on him.
I began to start cleaning up his wounds, and Big Mac joined me, wiping alcohol over the cut in his side. Flim winced at this but didn’t move. By the time we completed bandaging all we could, Granny Smith was looking over the top of the stairs.
“What are ya young whippersnappers doing up this early in the morning?” she asked.
I pointed to Flim, and she gasped but stayed in her position.
“Applejack, dear, show him to the guest room,” Granny said calmly.
“Okay, Granny.”
Me and Big Mac carried Flim cautiously up the stairs, not daring to let him drop down them. After pulling the sheets back, Big Mac laid him down in the bed, careful not the let him hit the headboard. I brought the covers back over Flim and started walking away, but suddenly, he grabbed my hoof.
“T-thank you, s-sweet Applejack,” Flim said, before passing out from an obviously stressful night. I placed his hoof back on the bed and made my way back to my room, across the hall. I laid down and fell asleep with only a question filling my thoughts.
What could have possibly happened to Flim?