"Run! for god's sake run, damn you!"
"But-"
"I said get the fuck out of here! Go, or I swear to Drathgurg I'll kill you myself!"
The young pup's tiny form shook before the mighty roar that was his father's voice. Fire, everything was on fire. Random patches of ground were carpeted with flames. The usually lively greenery of the forest was engulfed by fire, the vibrant flowers and leaves darkening into lifeless silhouettes of their former selves before evaporating into clouds of glowing embers. The dancing golden blaze laced the trees, hungrily eating away at any and all life that once inhabited the once serene woodland. With every breath the young timber wolf took he would choke on the thick, black smog that lingered in the air. It almost seemed to stick to the inside of his throat, reducing his breathing to a pathetically weak wheeze. Above the noisy crackling of the fire he could hear tortured, bone chillingly pained howls of agony. Oh god, his pack, they were burning. The blurry figures of the pup's friends and companions could be seen writhing through the heavy soot, their bodies embroiled with fire.
He could smell them burning.
Splinter (as her sister had kept calling him) lay fidgeting wildly on the floor. His three legs had somehow managed to free themselves from the roe she had bound them with, and were now flailing about madly. He shook vigorously, as if he was cold, and quiet whimpers escaped his open jaws. Applejack stood by the barn door, watching the trembling wolf. She was no animal psychologist, but she had the common sense to know that this creature was scared. Winona was at her side, watching Splinter's strange mental escapade unfold. Applejack had resolved to bring Winona along with her for protection, in case the monster tried to do to her what it did to her brother, but at the moment it seemed like the only one it would hurt was itself. Splinter's whining grew louder. To Applejack it was nothing more than an aggravating noise, to Winona, however, it was something far more horrifying.
"They're burning, oh god, they're fucking burning..."
The small pup raced through the blazing forest. This was more than just a forest fire, this was hell on earth. Burning trees slumped to the ground with heavy thumps, crushing those below before they even had the chance to scream. Animals shot out of the flaming bushes and scorched plantations, grisly burn marks plastering their bodies. Some would collapse to the ground and devolve into a quivering wreck, their minds destroyed by the copious amounts of pain, others would carry on, dragging their torched carcasses onwards in a hopeless attempt to save themselves. All of them screamed, oh by Drathgurg, they screamed. He would try his best to ignore them, to block them out, but he simply couldn't. Nothing deserved to die like that. Some would emerge from the raging inferno completely encased in fire, like some horrid, wailing demon that had clawed its way out of hell to admire the catastrophe before collapsing to the ground, their screaming slowly ebbing away into nothingness as the life left their ruined bodies. Not him, oh god, not him. He didn't want to die, not like that, please god, don't let him go like that. Run. Don't stop, just run.
Keep running, just keep running.
The pup worked his spindly little legs harder than he'd ever worked them before. The fire had to end somewhere, the chaos couldn't carry on forever, it had to stop somewhere. But what if the inferno didn't end? He'd been running so hard his soles were beginning to bleed, why hadn't he escaped from this hell?
He began to slow down. He'd exhausted the last of his energy. That was it. He was going to die here, no, not just die, but burn as well. There would be nothing left of him but ash. Tears began to flow from his stinging eyes as he threw his forelegs over his head and prepared himself for his slow, torturous end.
My eyes snap open, and I'm greeted with the barn ceiling. A dream... It was just a dream... Just an effed up, crazy dream. Am I shaking? Yep, I'm shaking. Damned nightmares, there all I ever get. I would kill for a decent fantasy every now and then, but alas, my mind seems to have a fetish for scaring the shit out of me whenever I go to sleep.
"COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!"
BLOODY HELL! Damned roosters are hell-bent on giving a heart attack. There was one back at that winged ponies cottage and there's one here as well. The loud mouthed beaked pricks are everywhere! It's a conspiracy, obviously.
I guess I should get up now, I've got a busy day ahead of me. Oh wait, no I don't, because my fucking leg's gone! Yeah, I'm still pissed off about that, if someone took one of your limbs, you would be too. So now what do I do? I don't believe that a crippled timber wolf's day is exactly 'eventful'.
*Rumble*
Well, I guess catching a bite to eat wouldn't be a bad place to start. However, that might be kind of difficult, being locked in a barn and all.
It was then I noticed the two silver bowls lying in front of me, one filled with water, the other with... Rat droppings? No, this stuff actually smells too bad to be a bowl full of turds. They're... kind of like little brown rocks... Dried rat droppings? That still didn't explain the stench. Wait a sec, why does it say my name on those bowls? The word 'Splinter' was scrawled across the two bowls in black ink. Judging by the shoddiness of the writing, I'm guessing it was written by that little foal, Applebloom. Then again, my captors are a family of hicks, so I doubt that any of their mouthwriting would be better than a newborn foal's. Heck, it was a wonder that any of them knew how to write at all.
Hold on... It's a bowl, it has my name on it, it's full of... stuff, and I'm hungry. Is this supposed to be... food?
Unacceptable.
I've eaten a lot of disgusting crap in my time, including actual crap , but there is no way I'm putting that in my mouth.
"What's wrong, ain't ya hungry, y'all seemed starved when ya decided ta take a bite outta mah brother."
The barn door had been opened, sunlight pouring into the room. Applejack stood in the middle of the entrance, casting a large, foreboding shadow over me. Winona sits at her side, expressionless. When the heck did those two show up, I swear that door was closed a minute ago, fricking stealthy hillbillies.
"Well, ain't ya gunna eat?"
Somepony needs to take a chill pill.
"Winona, would you kindly explain to me what this crap is?" I ask kindly (bitches love it when you as kindly).
A small yet devious smile crosses her lips. "That there's yer breakfast, partner." She answers smuggly. Hm, this must be her way of getting me back for those mind blowingly awesome pick up lines I had dropped on her earlier. She is so mean... And i'm okay with that.
"This is food?" No wonder Winona is so uptight, if I had to eat this spew I'd be pissed off twenty four seven as well...
"Well, what're ya waitin' for? Dig in!" spits Applejack, her eyes narrow slits and her mouth contorting into an angry frown. You know what? Screw her! Her brother sucker punched me in the face, and I'm the bad guy? Nope! I'm not having that, time to teach this stetson wearing trailer trash a lesson.
With a flick of my nose, I flip the bowl over, it's vile smelling contents scattering across the floor. Dig in to that, bitch.
Applejack's frown twisted into an evil snarl. "Gah! Y'all are nothin' but an ungrateful varmint! Fluttershy shoulda jus' left ya ta die!"
'Oh, my poor widdle feewings!' What, was that the best she could come up with? The old 'You should go die' routine? Does she have any idea how unoriginal she's being? Does she even know if I can understand her? If she hates me so damned much, then why the fuck did she take me in? This whole thing is just so stupid! I just... I just...
"FUCK YOU! Maybe your WHORE of a friend SHOULD have just left me! What the FUCK makes you think that I'd want to fricking LIVE LIKE THIS! How about you do me a favour and fucking KILL ME! I can see that you damned well want to, so COME ON! FUCKING KILL ME! KILL ME YOU BITCH! If you want me dead so bad how about YOU COME OVER HERE AND FUCKING. KILL. ME!"
So yeah, I lost my cool for a second. Sadly, all Applejack could hear was frenzied barking, so my little outburst was more or less meaningless to her. Winona, however, had adopted a somewhat shocked expression. Whatever, I just really had to get that off of my chest. These ponies needed to understand that I didn't want to be saved. To be honest, I'd rather die than live as a pet.
Applejack turned and walked away, muttering to herself about how I was a 'monster' and how 'evil' I was. Up hers, I didn't ask to be dragged into any of this. Winona stayed rooted to the floor, still staring at me with surprise. What's up with her, hasn't she ever been on the receiving end of a rant before? Hot or not, I hate it when someone stares at me, it makes me feel vulnerable, and in the wild, vulnerability means death.
"Just what the hell are you staring at?" I snap.
Surprisingly, she actually recoils slightly at my words. It's almost as if she's frightened of me, strange, seeing as she was threatening to tear me to shreds only yesterday.
"Did ya really mean all that? Do ya really think ya would be better off dead?" She sounds worried, I can't begin to fathom why. She's known me for less than a single day, and the closest thing we've had to a conversation was a couple of failed cat calls from yours truly.
"Yes." I reply almost instantly. It's like I said earlier, what's the point in living if you can't do what you were made to do? I've become useless, and in my opinion, that's a fate worse than death. I would have preferred to die a wolf rather than live as a freak.
"... Ah... Ah can't allow that."
What? What does she mean she 'can't allow that'? Does she have a strict 'no emo' policy or something?
She sighed to herself, her posture stiffening and her face once again becoming an expressionless mask "As much of a foul-mouthed, stubborn-as-a-mule, pain in the neck y'all are, ah'm not just gonna let y'all wallow in ya own sadness fer the rest of ya days."
So let's get this straight, I'm virtually a stranger to her, she hates my guts, I've mauled one of her owners, and she wants to help me? Equestrian logic in a nutshell.
"Hate to disappoint you, ma'am, but I doubt there's much you could do to cheer me up." Actually, that's a lie, there are several things she could do to make me very happy, if you catch my drift.
"And just what's that supposed to mean?" Oh my, it seems like I've gone and rustled her Jimmies.
"I'm just saying, I don't think you're capable of-"
"Well maybe y'all say too much! A'hm gonna SHOW y'all that life's worth livin, whether ya like it or not!"
Well, that escalated quickly.