//------------------------------// // Chapter 2: Acrophobiagenesis // Story: Desert Spice // by Bugsydor //------------------------------// Horizon “Eeyagh!” I shout as I clamp my ears down. “You sure have a pair of lungs, lady. Think you could pipe down?” “UNHOOF ME, FOUL DEMON! I’D SOONER DIE THAN LET MYSELF BE RAVISHED BY SUCH FILTH!” Pluck my pin feathers, she’s loud! She needs to calm down. “Believe me, I have no intention of ‘ravishing’ you. You’re a little on the plump side for my tastes,” I joke, trying to break the tension. “PLUMP?! You don’t call a mare plump! That’s a word you use… for… food. OH MERCIFUL TERRA, HE’S GOING TO EAT ME-HE-HEEEEEEE!” She starts bawling in terror. ‘Smooth flying there, Rize. Real smooth. Maybe you should try a different tack.’ “No, you’re not going to get eaten, either! You’re starting to convince me that leaving you for dead in the middle of this Terra-forsaken waste is a good idea, though! You didn’t even pack yourself any water. How did you expect to get anywhere?” That shut her up. “Has the thought that I’m saving your life ever entered your mind? Snap my wings off, I took a big enough risk already assuming you were some kind of weird, wingless pony with a horn instead of some kind of magical monster that eats ponies’ souls. Not everypony would be so charitable!” —_(\\_/\_//)_— Amber Spice Oh, right. This isn’t the worst hangover ever; this is just me nearly dying. How in the hay did I mix that up? On the bright side, I guess this means I didn’t do anything too embarrassing before I passed out in the middle of the desert. Except for mouth off to every pony in the Platinum Court and get my rump banished to said middle of said desert. That, and failing to pack any water in my saddlebag of holding when I knew I wouldn’t just find any lying around out here. And here I thought I was a genius for remembering to pack some cases of the family’s private mead reserve for special occasions. And then I accused the pe— the pega— the pony who’s currently saving me from death by dessication of trying to eat me or worse. I am such an idiot. After a couple of minutes of letting me stew in my own thoughts, he breaks the silence. “So, now that you’re done shouting yourself hoarse, how are you feeling? Looked like you fainted from heat exhaustion, and that takes a lot out of most pegasi I know.” Let’s see: Headache, confusion, loss of consciousness, excessive thirst… Sounds like heat exhaustion to me. Actually, I’m not quite as thirsty as I’d expect. “I’m pretty confused, and I’ve got a horn-splitting headache,” I rasp. “I’m not as thirsty as I thought I’d be, though. Did you… give me some water?” “Yep. I’ve dealt with a few heat exhaustion victims before,” he states professionally. “It’s why you’re being carried so high above the ground: it’s cooler up here. Also why you’re upside-down.” And I am thankful for that. “I— I think we got off on the wrong hoof. My name is Amber Spice. What’s yours?” “Horizon.” “So, Horizon…” Not the worst name I could come up with. Figures flying ponies would have sky-sounding names, I guess. “Where are you taking me?” “To the caravan. To my home.” To the pegasi. Oh, demonwings. —_(\\_/\_//)_— Horizon The trip back to the caravan is taking a good deal longer than usual, due to this mare’s unusual weight, but it’s finally coming into view. Whatever she is, she’s not built like a pegasus. It’s like I’m trying to fly while holding a pony-sized waterskin. Maybe this is what trying to lift a fully-grown camel by yourself is like? She couldn’t be part camel, could she? She looks too much like a pony, but she’s heavy like a camel and doesn’t have wings. Then again, camels don’t have horns, either. Probably a worthless line of thought. She’s not a pegasus, she’s not a camel, so what is she? That’s a question that can wait to distract me until I’m back at my post. Whatever she is, she needs a bit more help before she can stand on her own four hooves, and I’m not the pony to do that. “Amber Spice?” That’s an odd name. What kind of pony names her daughter after food? “We’re coming up on the caravan.” “Mhm” comes her clipped reply. Between that, and how she tensed up when I mentioned the caravan, I’m getting the feeling she doesn’t want to see other ponies right now. Can’t say I really want to right now, either. I can see Merry Weather dispensing water to some foals, so that should keep her occupied. There’s Cloudy, but she looks like she’s too busy reorganizing the cloud bank to notice us. *ugh* There’s Idle Wings hovering by the carding booth, probably looking for gossip. I hope he doesn’t look up. So there’s Amber’s heat exhaustion, her being in the middle of nowhere without water, her… overexcited reaction to meeting me… What happened to this mare? “I gave you some water earlier, but you still need help. My duty in the herd is to go before its face and ward off danger, not to tend to the sick, so I can’t help you. “I’m taking you to some ponies who can, though. They’re healers: kind mares who are experts in taking care of dehydrated ponies like you,” I say in one of my better reassuring voices. She responds with a mumbled “Okay” and tries to withdraw a bit further into herself. “You see that up ahead? That’s the caravan. We’re about to come in for a gentle landing somewhere in the middle of it. I’m going to flip you face-down and gently lower you to the ground. Tell me when you’re ready for me to let go. Okay?” “Okay,” she tersely replies. I torque and drop her, she squawks, and I catch her again once she’s right-side-up. We bled a bit more altitude than I was expecting, but we’re still in the air. We pass through a few clouds of pegasi and over some mixed trains of camels and the odd pegasus mingling with them. A few of the pegasi glance at me and Amber with more than a passing interest, but I’m trying to ignore them as I come in for a heavy landing. They’ll have plenty to prod me about later, but I should be able to put that off until I’m off-duty if I can drop this mare off fast enough. Speaking of dropping fast, the ground is rising to meet me a little too enthusiastically for my liking. “Oh fly me to the Sun.” —_(\\_/\_//)_— Amber Spice “You see that up ahead? That’s the caravan. We’re about to come in for a gentle landing somewhere in the middle of it. I’m going to flip you face-down and gently lower you to the ground. Tell me when you’re ready for me to let go. Okay?” “Okay,” I mumble. Rather accommodating for a creature I have to keep telling myself isn’t a dangerous predator just so I don’t panic myself to death. Is panicking to death an actual thing? I don’t want to find out for myself. I feel a twist, and now I’m falling and spinning through the air really fast. “AAAAaaaAAAAaaaAA-oof!” ‘Okay, you’re safe. That wasn’t a treacherous demon trying to see what your insides would look like as outsides on the desert floor. The flying pony just had to let you go for a little bit so you’d be able to land on your legs instead of your back. Which, in hindsight, would almost definitely have to involve some freefall. ‘Relax, Spicy. You’re being flown in to some kind of hospital so you can rest and recover from almost dying. You’ll be tended to by pega— by ponies who know what they’re doing. Mares who have no interest in taking advantage of your helpless state. No interest whatsoever. None.’ Okay, maybe it would be better if I didn’t think too hard about it and took a look around, instead. Whoa. It’s like a city, but it’s moving. Canopies being held up from above or below, brown and pastel shapes milling about on the ground between them as they move along… I’m seeing some scattered groups – colonies? – of pegasi as we fly in. Huh. Feathers. Shouldn’t they look more like bats? How do mammals even have feathers? I guess calling them colonies doesn’t quite fit, then. Something birdlike, maybe? How about a murder of pegasi? No, that’s a horrible choice of words. We pass a few pegasi shuttling clouds around between clumps. Never thought I’d see clouds up close, and they look interesting. They’re fluffy-looking, but not in the same way my coat is. I guess I could compare it to beaten grease? Except less solid-looking and hazier. Maybe I could call them a cloud of pegasi? That seems to fit, and clouds don’t sound anywhere near as bad as murders. These ponies have to be my friends for a while, at least, or I’m toast. Oh some toast would be divine right now. And some salt. A cartload of salt. I look down at the ground below, and— What in the name of Terra’s generously proportioned rump are those creatures down there? They come in various shades of brown, and they’re shaped kinda like a pony, but different. They’ve got longer necks, longer faces, and this huge hump in the middle of their backs. Many of them, especially the ones with darker hair, have something draped over them that looks like white, billowy bedsheets. It makes them look like walking tents, with their humps serving as a central pole. Speaking of hair, these creatures are hairy. Not fluffy like me, but coarse and shaggy, like low-quality pelts. Can’t really examine them in-depth, though, since flying is apparently way faster than walking. You know, I never really appreciated how fast we were flying until we started getting close to the caravan. Actually, is the ground supposed to be getting closer that quickly? “Oh horse apples.” *WHUMPF* After several seconds to recover from the ground’s overenthusiastic greeting, I wheeze, “Okay Horizon, I’m ready for you to let go now.” Gentle landing my furry backside. Horizon, apparently shaking off his daze, hops off and lands in front of me and begins taking off my saddlebags he’d been wearing, giving me my first good look at him. Horizon’s got a short, sky blue coat. It’s shorter and sleeker than any unicorn’s coat I’d ever seen, but that makes sense with his flying around in a desert and all. Must be a lot easier to keep clean and straight, too. His mane is in a close-cropped Mohawk, like what I’d expect to see poking out the top of a guard’s helmet. Which makes sense, since poking out of a helmet is precisely what his mane is doing. Speaking of guards and helmets, he’s wearing what looks like some kind of armor. Why isn’t there more metal? Would it be too heavy? His armor looks pretty sturdy, regardless. The main feature I notice is a convex saddle made of tightly woven plant stalks with a color similar to his orange-gold mane and tail and to the desert earth. It slopes down towards his sides and away from his neck, and its sides curve around his wings so he has full freedom of movement there. As a chef, I have plenty of experience trying to cut plant fibers. Believe me when I say you’d have an easier time of convincing him politely to remove his saddle so you can cut him to ribbons than you would trying to actually cut through it. Even a serrated blade would probably just get stuck in there. Maybe a good, long spike could get through it? And speaking of spikes, Horizon here has a wicked, blood-encrusted pair of them attached to the outsides of his front horseshoes. Let’s not think about where the blood came from. That sounds nice. Those heavy-looking metal shoes on his back legs don’t look fun to get clobbered with, either. Remind me not to make him angry when he’s all suited up. Or ever, really. Aside from those eye-catching aspects, his armor has some more mundane features, like leather padding on the front of his forelegs and shoulders and an open helmet made of gleaming steel. He looks every inch the pony ready and willing to end some lives. ‘Or to save yours.’ Whatever the case, now he’s talking to a pair of concerned and/or slightly bewildered pegasus mares about me. Yay, attention! “The creature’s name is Amber Spice. I know she doesn’t have wings and she has a horn growing out of her forehead, but I think she’s some kind of pony. That’s why I’m leaving her here with you instead of with the camels, and that should be enough for now. It was enough for me to pick her up, so it should be enough for you to patch her up.” Camels. Is that what those shaggy brown humped things are called? “I do know she has heat exhaustion, and that she’s had a bit too much excitement lately. You two know what to do from here, right?” “Yes, sir.” the two mares respond in unison. “Good. One more thing,” Horizon says as he turns to fly off, “she’s rather skittish. Keep her away from other ponies if you can. She doesn’t seem to like them much.” What are you talking about? I like ponies fine. I’m not some kind of crazy, friendless recluse with a thousand cats, no matter what ponies have been saying behind my— Oh. Right. Desert. Pony I’ve just met who doesn’t know anything about my social life or lack thereof back on Terra’s Horn. I need some water, and a nap. I’m more out of it than I thought. Confound this headache. “Okay. Balmy?” the rose-hued mare with the light blue mane said to the other, “Standard pony procedure. I need you to fetch this, um, mare here a waterskin, and then we can fly her someplace cooler.” “Alright, Meddy,” the light brown one with the leaf green mane replies before fluttering away. After the one she called Balmy leaves, Meddy cautiously makes her way towards me. “Amber Spice. That’s your name, Isn’t it,” she says gently, her phrase more statement than question. I nod. Seems like an appropriate answer. “My name is Meddy Vac, and the mare who just flew off to get you some water is Soothing Balm. We’re healers, and it’s our duty to nurse any sick or injured ponies back to health. To do that, though, I’m going to need to ask you a few questions and give you a physical examination. Are you okay with that?” “Sure,” I mumble. I could probably use a check-up after the ground’s overwhelming welcome earlier, anyhow. “Good. Let’s get underway, then.” —_(\\_/\_//)_— Horizon So far today I’ve flown in a straight line, dispatched a bandit, and rescued the strangest pony I’ve ever met from certain death. Definitely one of the most interesting days I’ve had in nearly a year, and it’s not even 1100 hours yet. I’ve even managed to dodge Idle Wings before he could corral me and suck away what zest for life I have left with his nosiness. Yep. Now it’s back to patrolling the barren wastes on the way to the next oasis, keeping the others out of harm’s way. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Or not. Ow. There’s only one creature I’ve met that can rend the sky quite like that, and I’d thought I’d left her in good hooves not five minutes ago. Guess I really can’t trust anyone to do their flipping jobs right. After making a mad dash to the source of the scream, I come upon an interesting scene. The mare that I’d rescued earlier, Amber Spice, is out cold on top of a camel. Carlyle, I think. He’s unconscious too, legs crumpled beneath him. And what should I see above them, but Meddy Vac giving Soothing Balm a thorough dressing down halfway down from a nice, fluffy cumulus. *Sigh* I think I’m getting an idea of what happened here. Still, I want to hear it from the horses’ mouths.