When I awoke, it was still dark out. The hay was stuck to me all over, making me feel itchy, prickly, and filthy. Standing, I stretched for what felt like the first time in forever, before opening the—
CREEEAAAAAAKK
I froze. I'd never noticed the barn door making this much noise before! I waited five, then ten minutes before slowly, agonizingly slowly pulling the door open just wide enough for me to slip through. Another five minutes of trying to close the squeaky door without making a noise, and I was off towards the house.
Getting up the stairs to the porch was just as much of an ordeal as opening and closing the barn door, though my fear of being caught was tenfold due to a lack of concealment and my proximity to the sleeping ponies. I was crawling along at a snail's pace, occasionally wondering if I'd even get to the door before dawn. Thankfully, I did. Opening the front door was a simple matter—unlike the barn, this was taken care of on a regular basis and hardly made a noise. It wasn't until my first step into the house that I realized exactly what I was doing.
Breaking and entering. Into the home of a mare strong enough to kick the apples off trees in one go, a huge stallion, freakishly strong even by earth-pony standards, and an old mare with a shotgun. I gulped, silently closing the door behind me.
I am so...SO fucked.
I used a trick I had learned from gathering...supplies in the last few years, keeping close to the walls to minimize the noise made by creaky floors. Since near everything on the farm creaked in some way, I wasn't about to take chances. I didn't know the layout of the house, but it was fairly small. As long as I didn't barge into any bedrooms, I'd be fine. Creeping along the wall, I peeked in every door I came across.
Kitchen.
Applebloom.
Coat-closet.
A-HA! Bathroom. I slipped myself inside and closed the door. Flipping on the light, I looked in the mirror. I wasn't quite as disturbed by my reflection as...last time, but I still looked horrible. Quietly opening the cabinet and drawers under the sink, I fumbled around until I found a pair of shears. Looking back up at myself, I gave a grin.
Bye bye beard. Grabbing a hold of a ropy, wild lock, I began snipping away.
-----
I ran my hand over my now much shorter beard. I hadn't found a razor, so I couldn't get back to clean-shaven, but I still felt far better than before. I looked better, too. I had cut my hair back into a simple one-length mop, ending just over my eyes. Back on earth I would've looked like a slob, but here it was still a massive improvement. Lastly, my eyes glanced downward.
That damn neckbrace had made me miserable since I got here. Reaching around to the back, I felt for any kind of latch or binding. After roughly ten minutes, the damnable contraption fell to my feet, and I gave a sigh of relief. Rolling my head back and forth, I savored the popping of vertebrae that hadn't been moved in nearly a month. Looking back in the mirror, however, I once again winced at my appearance. An angry red line crossed my throat, forming a perfect ring right where the noose had bitten into my skin. I knew something like that doesn't just go away—It may fade, but I'd have the scar for the rest of my life. Shaking my head of such thoughts, I looked towards the shower. It was definitely pony-sized, and would be cramped, but...hot water. Soap. It would be worth it.
Peeling the hospital-gown off of me, I climbed in and turned the knob. I gasped at the frigid water, and immediately turned the other knob on full-blast. My eyes rolled back and I groaned, the now scalding cascade pounding against my back and shoulders. It was heaven. I spent a few moments just relaxing under the spray, enjoying a luxury I hadn't had in three miserable years. Eventually though, I looked around for soap.
Soap...soap...no soap. There was, however, enough shampoo for a small army. Rolling my eyes, I grabbed one of the—who would've thought—apple-scented shampoos and squeezed myself a handful. I was going to feel civilized again if it killed me!
Kneading the shampoo into my hair was a chore. The hair was clumped, matted, and tangled like nothing else, and pulling it apart was often between frustrating and just painful. Eventually, however, after the third squeeze of shampoo, the job was done. I sighed as I worked my fingers through my freshly cleaned hair before moving on to the rest of me. I had one Hell of a job to do.
-----
I stepped out of the shower feeling like a new man. The water had run cold halfway through, but I honestly didn't care. I was clean, I had the brace off my neck, I'd gotten a haircut, Apple Bloom was standing in the doorway, I had a full belly—Wait...what?
The filly was staring at me with eyes wider than saucers (not hard to do when your eyes take up half your face) apparently shocked into silence. I pulled the towel to cover myself, and held my other hand up in a placating gesture. "Okay...Whatever you do, don't freak o—"
"APPLEJACK!" You had one job, Apple Bloom. The yellow filly scampered out of the bathroom and down the hall before I could stop her. Immediately, I began to panic. In my rush I grabbed the grubby hospital gown and tied the towel around my waist, barreling out of the room myself and making a break for the door. Tearing it open, I leapt down the stairs to the ground and ran as fast as I could towards the barn. The sun was just beginning to rise, so there was enough light to see the silhouette of the rural structure against the reds and oranges of sunrise. Not caring about the creaking, I opened the door and ran through, slamming it behind me.
My God, I was out of shape. That little run, and I was already out of breath. At least I'd avoided being caught by a pony large enough to do any real damage. If that had been Big Macintosh, I would've been done for. Collapsing on the pile of hay, I sighed and closed my eyes.
It had only been a sleepless half-hour before the door creaked open. There was only one pony that knew I was in here, and if it had been any other they would've come for me long before now. Believing it to be Applejack, I feigned sleep. Whatever she was here for, it couldn't be good.
I'd done everything I knew to do, from relaxing my facial muscles to slowing my breathing, but somehow she still knew I was faking. I felt something impact then bounce off my head, and I yelped. Sitting up, I glared at the orange farm-pony. Glaring right back, Applejack pointed a hoof at the same object she had thrown. "Jes' what...in tarnation...was THAT doin' in the house?!" I glanced down to whatever it was, and immediately gulped. Oh shit...I'd left my neck-brace in the house.
I opened my mouth to respond, but the stubborn mare cut me off. "NO. Ignorin' the fact ya were up on yer own, ignorin' that ya used up all th' hot water, do you know what'd happen if the rest o' the family found ya out here?!" She had stomped closer, her glare intensifying. "Jes' WHAT in Equestria were ya thinkin'?!" The mare raised a forehoof, to which I immediately recoiled. It wasn't intentional, but being the youngest brother back home, I'd grown up to be very jumpy. And in the last couple years, a pony raising a hoof to me had hardly turned out to be a good thing.
Applejack clenched her jaw and took a deep, shuddering breath, lowering her hoof and closing her eyes. "And then ya go on an' make me feel bad fer' bein' worried..." Taking a step back, she turned around to walk away. "Ah'll get ya some breakfast...You just...just sit tight." And then she was gone.
I stared at where she had been, feeling immeasurably guilty. I didn't know why she was acting so protective all of a sudden, but for whatever reason, she was trying. I'd hardly spoken a word to her, and had made it perfectly clear on multiple occasions that I didn't trust her. So I made a decision. Closing my eyes and taking a cleansing breath, I steeled my resolve for when Applejack came back.
It was time I got some answers.