//------------------------------// // Chapter 3 Horses' Hospitality // Story: Equinophobia // by eLLen //------------------------------// The white-coated, shade-sporting mare named Vinyl Scratch, but known to her fans as DJ-PON3, struck the path below her hooves, her sights directed to the cottage that approached her so quickly. Skidding to a stop at the doorstep, she banged her hoof against the door, the wooden structure creaking in protest. She didn’t care that it was sundown by now, possibly startling the pony inside if she decided to turn in early. This was much more important, as the body draped over her back kept reminding her in the short yet agonizing run from the forest to here. “Open up!” she called impatiently, “This is important!” In a moment too long for her liking, the door finally opened a smidge to reveal a canary-coated pony peering out cautiously, clearly startled by the unfamiliar urgency, regardless if she was sleeping or not. “Um… yes? What is it?” she muttered timidly, only the necessity implied by the visitor keeping her at the door. Vinyl barely registered what the low-volume words had said but she didn’t care. “You’re that mare that takes care of animals?” she interrogated, “Flutterguy, right?” “Um… technically yes…” came the reply. Vinyl picked up where she had left off, the DJ not missing a beat, “Listen, this… human, I think it is,” she turned slightly to show its mangled form, “Picked a fight with a wyvern-thing. And I think it got poisoned.” Fluttershy gasped twice, once at the body and once at the words. She gestured for the other mare to come in, her self-inflicted responsibilities and natural care for others pushing aside her usual introversion. Inside, she directed Vinyl upstairs to her bed, instructing her on how to set down the unconscious one gently. She then spoke up, her words carried in a strong tone that so rarely saw use, “Now tell me what happened.” The unicorn recounted her tale, telling of her finding it being attacked after following its outburst, which probably succeeded in attracting the predator in the first place. She described the sucker punch that busted apart the tree, giving the “human” its burns and splinters. To her credit, Fluttershy didn’t waver during any of the hasty explanation, not even at the savage counter attack. Instead she listened, only piping up for a clarified detail to confirm exactly what had attacked it. The pegasus nodded at the end of the dramatic story. She turned to her newest patient on the bed and, at Vinyl’s questioning, gave her the simple answer of “I’ll make sure it’s alright.” It was in an uncounted amount of time that Fluttershy reemerged from her room-turned care station, looking a bit exhausted but pleasant. She discovered that the DJ, to her surprise, was still in her home, waiting in a far-off state upon her couch. She looked up, glasses crooked, at Fluttershy’s entrance. “How is it?” she asked. The Pegasus gave a small smile. “She,” she corrected, then continued, “I think she’ll be fine. There’s no permanent damage, although she’ll be out of it for a while and won’t be very mobile. We were lucky on the venom. Wyverns prefer to eat their food live, so it’s only intended to put their prey into a sleep.” Vinyl visibly perked up, giving a small and triumphant laugh of relief at the news. She sat up straight. “Thanks,” she said, albeit a bit awkwardly, “A lot.” Fluttershy just smiled modestly in return, saying, “It’s nothing. It’s just what I do.” Then, with a thought, she asked, “You mentioned she was something called a human earlier. How did you know that? I’ve never even heard of them before.” The white-coated mare nodded in comprehension at the other’s curiosity. “I have this friend named Lyra. She’s in to all sorts of myth-type stuff like humans. That was actually why I followed her in the first place. Suddenly there was a mythical creature was walking down the road. Heh, when she hears about this…” she trailed off. The two sat there for a minute or two in silence, neither having anything to talk about. They had been strangers before their abrupt meeting, only vaguely aware of each other and who they were, after all. “If you’re fine with me asking,” Fluttershy quietly broke the silence after a bit, “How come you stayed? I would’ve thought you were just bringing her to me because she needed help.” Vinyl was quiet for a moment, before stating, “I don’t know. Just feel… responsible, I guess. Brought her here to make sure she’s okay.” She let the rest hang in the air, but got up with a sudden bit of energy. “But you said she’ll be fine so I guess I’ll just head out now. Thanks again.” The canary-coated mare tilted her head at the mood change, but didn’t pay it more mind outside of that. She said her farewells, sending the DJ off. With her gone, Fluttershy looked up the stairs leading to where the human slept on another’s accord. She would have to make sure to prepare for whenever she awakened, the equine knew. A bit up the road, one unicorn turned back to a cottage still visible in the night. She held her gaze for a moment before turning back to her path in the night. The sleeping woman opened her eyes with a groggy tiredness. The day gave her an odd greeting of subjecting her to the relaxing feeling of having a good sleep yet not feeling at all rested. She was comforted by a bed she lay upon, complemented by cottony blankets that would’ve made a cloud jealous. She focused her eyes, drawing them out of the blurred and ineffective state they were in, and looked about her surroundings. Earlier words of waking up at home didn’t ring true, however, as she was in a completely unfamiliar environment. It was a small room showing off the typical dressers and other necessities of the sort that one would expect in a bedroom. To her right side she could see the open form of a doorway leading off to somewhere. To her left side was a pale-yellow horse tending to some medical-looking supplies. Ryan shrieked in surprise at the ghastly sight that caught her, or would have if she had broken into a fit of coughing and hacking, sore areas of her body becoming angered at the movement it caused. Expectedly, that drew the animal’s attention. It turned with a surprised look on its face, nearly dropping the plate she disgustingly carried in her mouth. Setting it down quickly but gently, she made a skip to the bedside, her hooves being planted on the blankets. Ryan scooted away the best she could, tangling the blanket around her, her heartbeat pounding on its ascent. She kept her gaze locked on the horse out of a dastardly sense of fear. It was comparable to a car crash: she couldn’t look away, try all she might, from the scene. The horse seemed to pick up on her reaction. It put on a compassionate face and spoke out a sweet melody of words of comfort and understanding, then smiled warmly like a mother to her child. Unfortunately, Ryan understood none of it. It was all senseless gibberish to her! And no amount of puppy-dog eyes and smiles were going to change the fact that this thing was far too close to her. She held her ground; it was the only thing she could do. That, and hope it would just leave. At the woman’s unchanged demeanor, the horse cocked its head a bit in confusion, then tried again at its incoherent sounds in a smaller tone. She pushed up a hoof slowly and offered it to the frightened Ryan. Her reaction was quick; Ryan jerked backwards at the offending hoof, thoughts of holding her ground having flown out the window, and she nearly threw herself off the bed in the process. In a desperate reaction, she brought out her arm from under the sheet and reached back to pluck the pillow she had been on. At an awkward angle she tossed the fluffy cushion at the equine, where it eeped! in return but bounced off harmlessly. The action actually did send her careening off the bed this time, as Ryan soon realized as she thudded against the floor. Ryan groaned but snapped back to attention at the sound of a flap of wings of all things. This one could fly, it seemed, but the woman hardly cared. Said flier appeared at the bed, looking down over her with concern, it saying another worthless phrase. Ryan, twisted up in a hopeless tangle of a blanket and sore all over her body, stared back up at the creature looming over her. Its head was watching her back, occasionally spitting out some word Ryan didn’t know, but the spot she was at blocked out the light source of the room, silhouetting her face in an eerily familiar way. Then it struck her like a vicious bolt of electricity, utterly catching her off guard and attacking her whole at once. Memories, long-forgotten memories, came crashing back to her; The darkened face of terror that had tortured her so in one fateful moment of her childhood; the helplessness she felt as it loomed over her in its own sadism; the brief but just as agonizing burst of pain she felt accompanied by the horrid soundtrack of the horse plowing over her, hoof first. Most of all though, she felt the turmoil that had been repressed. The feeling of pure fear as she waited for the guillotine’s blade to come down upon her. She felt everything. Ryan, normally a collected woman, burst into a sobbing mess alone on the floor as she waited for the pain she was sure would come at the hooves of the demonic monstrosity that happily watched her agony from its high perch. She remained in this sorry, misery-stricken state for a series of minutes to tens of minutes, by no one’s estimates. By the time she had calmed down enough into a sniffling, teary-eyed mess, the horse had already left, truly leaving her alone. She had gotten her wish at the very least. Fluttershy sat a staircase away on her couch, the sound of a bunny hopping towards her drawing her out of her thoughtful stupor. “I just don’t know, Angel,” she said. The bunny, a caring pet despite his usual aggressive attitude, jumped up next to her, giving a reassuring nuzzle. “Thanks Angel,” she said with a small smile. She was silent for a moment more, entering her thoughts once again briefly. “I’ve never had anything react that badly before,” she resumed, “She was completely terrified.” She sighed, guilt cropping up at knowing it was her fault, even if unintentional. “I… I’m honestly not sure what to do. I’m usually so good at calming down scared animals but she only got worse when I tried to help…” Angel snuggled in closer to his owner’s soft coat, trying to comfort. It was a moderate success, as the mare’s gentle smile appeared once again. “Maybe I should try a different approach,” she said to the bunny. Fluttershy grew into her silence once again as she pondered what else she could do. Her normal method wasn’t working so something else was in order. She figured a louder, more assertive tone would only make things worse so that wasn’t an option. It wasn’t her forte anyways. Her frame of mind began comparing the situation to other ones she had had in her years of caretaking. It went through her encounters with the various animals around Ponyville, from helping simple household pets to taming great manticores, until she crossed a rather recent flow of memory. With a quiet but exclamatory “yes” she suddenly realized her answer! “Angel, I’m going to be out for a bit. Can you make sure the… human,” she recalled, “is okay?” She got a steady nod in return. “Thank you. I should be back soon.” The pegasus trotted merrily to the door, confident in her solution. All she needed now was a little help from a friend. Ryan got up on unsteady legs, obviously not fully healed from her fight in the forest if the bandages on her legs indicated anything. She was at least emotionally stable once more, although a nervous anxiousness kept creeping up on her everywhere she turned. Able to finally take stock of the situation, she looked herself in the bedroom’s mirror. To be honest, what stared back wasn’t familiar to her. The figure in the mirror was tired and puffy-eyed, her hair a mess of its former self. Her clothes were clearly ripped on purpose as to treat her wounds, as indicated by the various wraps and bandages around her body. One lower leg might as well have been in a cast between the knee and ankle. Ryan took in a deep breath and exhaled, letting out tension. As bad of a state as she was, she had already made up her mind. She had to leave. She didn’t know where but anywhere other than here with the beasts. Of course, if the goal was to avoid them, then “here” could very well mean dozens and dozens of miles for all she knew. Even so, she was certain, whether it be from optimism or denial, that she would make it away, even all the way home. The woman weakly walked to the doorway with a stiff gait.