//------------------------------// // Under Celestia's Sun // Story: That Same Old Story // by The Historian //------------------------------// The tent fell with ease. Its construction had always been shoddy, and the bear's rippping and tearing plus my companion's rough attitude quickly saw it in woody shambles, the timber beams piled neatly and the vines scattered amongst them. I made Scootaloo keep busy with some youtube videos, while I quietly laid eight large pelts upon several stones a short distance from the campsite. The first, for my silent meal that went with a whimper, and that stared at me as I ate on that fateful night. The second for my second kill, a rambunctious one that charged me down when it realized what was happening, providing me with my first injuries in this new realm. The third a grazer, which stared me down as I took its life. Its cries haunted me for several nights after, though I was too famished at the time to consider the ramifications. The fourth, fifth, and sixth were throws. I did not see their expressions as they fell, but each bore a small hole where my strike had hit, ultimately fatally. The raindrops that hit me in the night were signs of that impersonal weakness, as was the perpetual red stain on them. Explaining to the young pony how I got them was all that much harder with those stains. The seventh was oddly calm. It was my only animal taken without a spear strike, in this case with a letherman to the medulla like the first. The final was my worst and most exerting. I nearly twisted my ankle chasing it, my strike having gone deep enough but not into any fatal areas, leading the animal to run away with the spear sticking out. It was hours before I caught it, and that was when I decided hunting wasn't worth it. These six went into my tent, while two turned into the soft bedrolls I and Scootaloo had slept on, although that last detail was kept for her sake. I didn't want her hating me, especially after having nobody except myself and Stache to talk to. That would have been too much. I watched their fur flutter a bit in the darkness, before I stepped away from the place I'd buried all the bones. A small pit nearby held fish bones, as well. All my handiwork, and all my blood shed. All for nothing, I realized, as I looked up into the eye-pleasing rather thain paining sun. Celestia's sun. All of this time, I could have just walked to Ponyville if only I'd realized. But I was always the forgetful one, failing to mind things even when they were so blatant. I'd even felt it when I met stache, but now countless lives: eight Deer and many fish and small critters, were dead by my hands. I glanced briefly at them, streaked with dirt and mud, and shed a small tear. It was almost over, at least. Like a soldier coming back from deployment, I sulked into camp in a chipper mood, the sulking mostly from extreme pain rather than any sort of issue. Scootaloo had tucked the laptop away and was seating herself carefully in my bag. It's the old adage about military duffle bags: all your gear and a small child, and in this case it wasn't far off the mark. I'd carry her and the broken leg all the way back to Ponyville, and screw the discomfort. I was finally freed of all the shamble living, and maybe I'd get to take a real bath with soap of all things. After all, the awkward conversations with Stache while nude got annoying real quick. I smiled at her as I hefted the bag, quickly snapping the rarely-used chest strap in place to put most of Scootaloo's admittely minimal weight on my hips, rather than my shoulders. "Ready?" I asked. She nodded, and I took one last longing look at my campsite, the scattered leaves, ashes of the fire, stacked logs, and strewn vines all representing months of memories. And I smiled, for the first real time since I'd arrived. It was time to leave this mess behind. My legs propelled me and my charge out of the clearing and into the brush. The cool winds of spring were upon us, and I'd rolled my jacket sleeves and unzipped it halfway to make things more comfortable. The orange pegasus started prattling after awhile, talking about the forest and its inhabitants. Something about "Cutie Mark Crusader Tour Guides" or something. I'd read and watched plenty of MLP, but never got enough of a sense of Scootaloo to really pin her down. It's easy to say she's a younger Rainbow Dash, but she also seems to carry more depth and a bit less haughty of an attitude. More of a 'Haha, I beat you' rather than 'Haha, loser! I'm the best and you just lost as expected' type of person. Still a bother, but workable rather than inadmirable. And it didn't help that Dash piled on laziness. Scootaloo replaced that with excitability, seemingly endlessly interested in the world -- including its people, mostly Rainbow Dash. Although she did seem to admire my bear-fighting skills as well. "I wish I got a bear-biting Cutie Mark..." She said, finally dragging me back into the conversation. I chuckled at that one as we hopped over a log. "I don't know how practical being a bear-biter would be as a job, Scoots. You've gotta keep in mind that what you guys do has to be applicable all your life, not just as a one-off." Scootaloo looked at me funny. "Well what kinds of jobs are those?" She asked me. "I dunno. Stunt work on scooters, maybe? Or singing? Maybe building and fixing houses?" I asked her nonchalantly. If nothing else, pushing along the CMCs would probably be a boon to ponyville rather than a crazy bunch of property-destroyers. Or they'd muck it up with cartoon logic and sheer silliness. "I always ride my scooter places, though!" She said. "I would've gotten my cutie mark forever ago!" I reached behind and ruffled her mane. "You're not focusing on it, though! You do on all the other tasks, but sometimes fillies and colts forget that Cutie Marks come from something you already do day-to-day, just when you realize how important it is." "How would you know? I mean, I know you've got some crazy good name-guessing skills, but that doesn't suddenly make you an expert on all things pony!" She yelled back, getting defensive. "You're right. I don't, so why don't you tell me some things?" I asked as we kept moving across the forest floor. The river was only a short distance now, and they'd soon be meeting with another fellow. Until then... "Well, uh, what do you want to know?" "Family? Friends? Birthday? Favorite color or food?" I asked. She was silent for awhile, and I mentally facepalmed for bringing up the biggest and most controversial fan question. "...Well. I mean, if we count my foster home..." She managed to mumble, and I froze. Of all the stupid, retarded, dumbfuck things you could ask? Really? "I'm sorry, Scootaloo. I shouldn't have brought it up." I said. She patted my head with a hoof. "It's not, uh, your fault. Kids at school like Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon are the ones that make it an issue, really." She said, her head lying on my shoulder as I resumed my path. "How old are you, anyways?" I asked. "Eleven, why?" "Just wondering. Anyways, you didn't answer any of my other questions." And she quickly and quietly resumed her jovial attitude. How I loved those days when I could just forget off the cuff, not need to wallow when a sensitive subject came up. Like dying and coming back to life in a strange universe just like a - no. I'm not going to keep at that one. It was a new day. Not the old ones that had been so somber before. The river's rushing bulk came into view, and the clearing I'd hidden in not so long ago was visible. We stepped into the grassy knoll, just as the sun crested enough to bathe the entire spot in light. A bit breathtaking, as the trees went from dark to brighter green, the sun's light bathing it in rays of brightness, like a singular path straight across the river and on to Ponyville: a yellowbrick road, one which we had to walk. "Hold on, Scoots" I said, bending down to nab a rock, and tossing it across the water. It skipped several times before hitting the other side, clattering down. Slowly, but surely, the water began to turn into a rush as something big sauntered down it. Scoot tapped my head. "What's going on?" She asked. I pointed downstream as a blue serpent rounded the corner, spraying a load of water onto the trees on the opposite bank. The golden-hued trees sparkled now, the sun's light pattering off the droplets and further making the scene heavenly. "Isn't today just GORGEOUS?" Asked a flamboyant voice. I could almost laugh, but I felt like a great weight came off my shoulders in the sunlight, my eyes slowly adjusting to brightness I hadn't seen in forever. "You could say that." I managed to mutter, too much in awe of the sights. A hoof whacked my head twice more. "Who is he!" Scoots asked again, and I finally noticed. "Oh, this is Stache. He's my buddy thats been out in the Everfree for his whole life." "And I daresay-" Said the Dragon, his head stretching down to be near us. "-Beardo has been the best of company, little pony." I chuckled, and Scootaloo just rolled her eyes. "Whaaatever." She responded. "Look, Stache, I need you to remember something for me." I said, and he looked at me puzzled. "What makes you think I know anything important?" He asked. "I'm just a fellow in a river, after all." "You could tell me where you got that purple half of your namesake, for starters?" I asked. He cocked his head, and suddenly his realization clicked when he looked at the pony in my bag. "Ohh! Your little friend is one of the former owner's ilk! I understand. She was a little white and purple one, and gave me part of her tail to fix the dreadful damage a specter of the night did to my originally equal mou-stache! It was the most generous thing I'd ever had happen to me!" He said, and I looked at Scootaloo. Her eyes had the same realization I did on it. "Rarity." We said in unison. "Do you remember where she came from? Can you take us there?" I asked. and the beast's head rose, turning around to his tail. "Why, I owe her a great debt! Getting one of her kind to where she belongs is the least I can do. Climb aboard, Beardo! We've no time to waste!" His scales were surprisingly easy to grip despite the water, and I took up a sitting position near the middle. A jolt and we were moving, the serpent recounting every excruciating detail of the story. Scootaloo already had my headphones in her ears, and I turned on my iTunes copy of Spectrum for her. Appropriate, I thought. We sailed for a time on the river, before a pathway opened up before us on the riverside. Scootaloo's song had just ended, and she tossed my iPad back into the other bag pocket before squeezing me as we disembarked. "Thanks, Stache. I'll visit when I have time, 'kay?" "But of course, Beardo! You still need it styled, though!" He said, and we shared some chuckles. "Did you ever find the sea?" I asked. "Oh, yes. I'm afraid I'll be spending much more time there. The water tastes more refreshing, you understand?" "Of course." I allowed. That wasn't exactly how I defined salt water's feeling, but whatever floated his boat, not that he ever needed assistance in floating. We exchanged goodbyes and I and my charge trudged onwards down the pathway, the radiant trees not letting up, until we finally saw a light at the end of the tunnel: with several brown and white buildings, the maroon top of city hall visible on the horizon. A smile crested my face as we reached the forest's edge, and I stepped out into the light. It bathed my jacket in color I hadn't seen before, and I glanced down on its many tears and scrapes and stains, some from me and others from the very earth itself. Scootaloo shifted on my back, and I heard a yelp as she hit the ground, her wings flapping like a hummingbird. Three of her four legs supported her, and I chuckled a bit as she moved around. "You're like, one tough cookie, you know that?" She asked, as she saw all of my cuts and scraps and scars in better light. Blood and dirt caked everything, scars from bear claws adorned my face, and my beard was a huge furry mane collecting thickly around my chin, slowly resolving into longer hair rather than fuzz. If I had a mirror, I probably wouldn't know the seventeen year old staring back at it. But that was okay, you know? "Thanks, Scoots." I zipped up my bag, which looked none worse from Scoot's ride. "You may be a penguin, but penguins can still scare off polar bears." She turned her head quizically at me: "What's a penguin?" I laughed, and she pestered me about that as several denziens of ponyville: none of the Mane Six, slowly clamored around us, a few expressing their happiness at Scootaloo's return, and others perplexed by this mammoth of a creature coming in with her, its strange and dangerous appearance otherwise marring their peaceful days. I should've expected this, and Scootaloo shot me an apologetic glare. I waved her off. A pair of ponies in particular approached us: a rather appropriate tag team of big guy and important official. Big Macintosh and Mayor Mare. She transfixed me with an analyzing glare, and Big Mac's eyes went nowhere except my appendages, expecting an attack at any moment. "Scootaloo, who's this?" She asked offhand, and Scootaloo quickly buzzed in front of me. "You'll never believe this story!" She shouted. "Alright, so me and the girls..." I zoned out. I wargamed this one at the shelter already. "..and then a Bear attacked us and he was all like "I can handle this" and I was like "No way" and we both rushed out and battled the big bear and I bit it real hard and it went away crying..." The two adults looked at me a moment. My head shook. They absentmindedly returned to Scootaloo's story, where we crossed the 'ocean' and conquered the great sea dragon and made it take us all the way back to Ponyville. Obviously a little embellishment on her part. Mayor Mare harumphed and looked at me. "Well, you seem to be more than meets the eye." "I'll say, seeing as that's about waist level." Badum-tsh. She frowned at me. "I've been in that forest awhile. Excuse me if my appearance is less than stellar and more than a bit scary. Bear fighting, while not nearly as...fantastical as Scootaloo puts it, is a very dangerous business, as you can see." I pointed to the tears and bloodstains. "Well, so long as that bear fighting doesn't turn into pony hurting, I'm not in any position to deny you access to Ponyville. Celestia is rather adamant on making Equestria an all-encompassing nation for the compassionate and the friendly. Behave, and we'll have no troubles." She said, pointing a hoof at Big Mac. "If not, he'll have words with you." "Eeeyup." "That's fantastic!" I said, snickering a little inside. "Now, I suppose we'll probably be taking our first trip to the hospital..." Scootaloo looked up at me and frowned. "But you've treated me so good! I can still move around!" "I'm no pony doctor, Scoots, and these cuts need a doctor's TLC rather than an EMT's." "Oh, fine!" She said, buzzing off. I smiled, as Ponyville sluggishly got back to work. I turned back to the Mayor, Big Mac have disappeared after his 'intimidation' routine. "How long have you been in Equestria, Mr...." "Boyle. Alex Boyle." I responded. "About four months. Humans aren't exactly from this planet, so I'll preface by saying I'll probably be the only you'll be seeing around for a long time." "Really? How'd you get here then?" "I died." I said nonchalantly. Her eyes went wide under those glasses, peeking around the edges, practically. "Electrical shock. Fell over then woke up here. Not sure if this is purgatory or if I'm just skipping universes now." "Well, that's..." She seemed to be grasping for the diplomatic word for something. "Absurd? I know." I responded. She nodded. "Believe me, I wish I was just the guy to invent teleportation." We stood there for a minute, awkward amongst the small crowd of ponies at the market. The sun was bright, brighter than I'd ever seen, and the pastel colors of Ponyville kind of filled me with that feeling of happiness and radiance. Like a massive weight had been blown completely away. And so I slowly turned away from the mayor, giving her a farewell as myself and Scootaloo entered Ponyville General. After some short conversation, I found myself and my companion on beds, my clothes stacked in a corner and a doctor slowly removing each of my bandages, a most excruciating process. Scootaloo was in the midst of some intense bone restructuring, and the Mane Six were still yet to be seen. I absently wondered where they were, before realizing they probably went in search of us this morning, the CMCs having probably spilled about what happened. As I finally had my wounds tended and drifted a bit to sleep, I pulled back my curtain to see Scootaloo sleeping there. She'd probably get visitors first, so I was lucky as I put the curtain back in place and slept a dreamless sleep. Anything was better than nightmares, I guess.