A continual thudding, like someone trying to break down a door. Was my mother trying to wake me up again. Suddenly, a realisation that pain came along with those thuds, a great headache, as if the brain was like the heart, rapidly pumping with fear. It soon came to his attention that his body was soaked, the rain gliding against his body, this image would’ve probably made a nice image. Where it not for the pain, constantly pulsating. The eyes were locked shut, so tired, he tried to open his eyelids. Bloody grass. His body tried once again to remove his already removed breakfast-but to no avail- shivering, shaking. He then noticed the rain, as if playing a game with the thudding head, sprinkling itself in between the constant pain.
He raised his head slowly, his ears starting to hear again, “Your name?” It was the mangled, abomination of a sound. The sound of a human speaking the holy tongue of the Equestrians, it felt so wrong. But those two words got no reply, so the creature spoke again, this time the sound seemed far more natural, but not a word could be understood, his own language perhaps? A new language, why that’d be- His head reminded him that it was in fact still in pain, the pony winced slightly, but then all that was forgotten with the next sound. A crushing sound, along with a horrified gasp, mixed with squelching, he slowly turned his head with his aching neck to his left, there was a line of ponies, all on their haunches, and their front hooves attached to the floor, his attempted movement of his foreleg proved that it was the same for him too. But that was not on the forefront of his mind. The thing that once was the head of a pony lay there in the bloody grass, the skull smashed and blood oozing out. I think I’ve just wet myself. His eyes were wide, he was horrified, he was terrified, completely missing the next exchanging of words. A huge crack came, and a long wail, this killing had been butchered, and the fear was rife, throttling his thought, crushing his stomach.
The mangled voice spoke again, “What is your name?”
“S-sergeant Strong Grip s-sir.” It was the guard who had picked him up, a somewhat familiar face. That fact alone gave him comfort, what else could? The pain in his head was slowly giving away, only to be replaced by a greater realisation of his surrounding- he would rather the headache back- he was cold, shivering, shaking, his nose snotty, “What do you know of your army’s purpose?”
“T-to put down a human… your revolt s-sir.” The human gave him a stare that was filled with hate, “Is that it?” Strong Grip looked up, his steady demeanour from the march whisked away with the sun, “Ye-.” He didn’t even get a chance to finish his sentence, the mace fell upon his head, and the blood spewed forth, a splodge hitting the pony’s face. His heart pumped with such force, his gut wrenching, his eyes watering in fear. I want my mother, “What is your name?”
His head had been fixed looking to his right, yet his eyes bad been blank this whole time, stuck in fear and thought. He was drowning in his dread as he slowly turned and raised his head towards the human. He gulped audibly, “N-note Taker.” His face somehow became whiter than it was before, he didn’t say sir. Oh, Solaris please, I don’t want to die, His face seemed to contort into something not resembling imminent death, nonetheless it was still terrifying, with the rain still pitter pattering and his body shivering in the cold, “Who do you take your notes for Note Taker?” He filled those two words with such venom, at least my rear will be a bit warmer now, but then the realisation suddenly hit, all he had to do was be useful. Like he always was, and not get absolutely smashed by the human, putting things in logical positions helped him calm down. Orderly, organised, he formulated what he’d say. But that did not change the fact that he was still gobsmacked with terror, “I take them…” He paused, better to sound more likely to help him, “I used to take them for my duke sir.” His throat was dry, it hurt too, and was vying for his mind’s attention along with all the other muscles and nerves in his cold, soaked body, “Do you remember and know a lot?”
“Yes!” Not Taker said hurriedly, too hurriedly he felt. Oh please let me live… The mangling of Equestrian stopped suddenly, and was replaced by the far more natural sounding human tongue, from the human’s mouth, had he done it? Would he live? The human turned to him, his face had returned to the mask of hatred he had worn during this entire ‘event.’ No, Solaris no please.
“Human please! I know numbers, my memory is good! I know the map of Equestria off by heart, I know the garrisons of the border settlements.” He was degraded, a forlorn hope-his last hope, “Don’t kill me, I can help you please…” he began to fully sob, the droplets of water falling alongside the rain droplets who fell at their own will, onto his back. The human said something in his tongue before walking to where, presumably, there were more ponies in a line. Had he done it? Was he alive. More humans came, wearing their rag-tag covers upon their bodies. He turned his head up and looked at them, they ignored him completely, instead going to his forelegs and releasing them, before promptly putting something around his neck. A collar, yet now was not the time to think on how absurdly degrading that was, even though things had turned up for him, the fear still gripped at him, and refused to let go. He breathed deeply as he was yanked by the humans, away from the line. Another sickening crushing and squelch, he shivered again, his body feeling ill from both what he saw, and how the unnatural and untamed weather grasped at him. Being sick now was not on his list of priorities at all.
After a few minutes of walking he came to a hut, two humans stood guard by an absurdly tall door, probably for their absurdly tall height. He was calming down, his mind now free from the constant complaints from his body and psyche analysed the place around him, the soldiers had some sort of basic armour, only light, metal sheets tied around certain parts of the body-the head having no such luxury- they held axes, haphazardly made, and, to Note Taker’s relief, ignored him completely, instead talking to the humans who had been dragging him too this place, “Get in scum.” The mangled Equestrian caught him off guard, more of them knew this? His skin crawled, it was so unnatural, like everything in this unnamed forest. The door was opened and he walked in, the door closing behind him, a rope being used to lock it. He looked inside the hut, just him then. Best to be fully awake for the next encounter with these strange humans. His mind began to fight a strange war between being utterly terrified, and being ridiculously curious over these ‘humans.’ Should they even be called humans anymore? Maybe they deserved a new name?
How about you focus on not dying instead you fool?
… He didn’t even notice when his consciousness left him to swim in the dark pools of sleep.