It was December 20th, and all evening programming was full of the typical Christmas schmaltz, children’s Christmas cartoons, classic Christmas movies and other Christmas specials.
Earlier that day, Mike had been busy. He had been out doing his regular shopping. As expected for the season, the Christmas crowds had overwhelmed the stores. Even such a simple task as grocery shopping had taken three times longer than usual. By the time he had arrived back home, most of the day was gone.
After putting away the groceries, Mike decided to spend the rest of his day doing a few domestic chores. Over the course of the next few hours, several loads of laundry were processed through his washer and dryer. He kept himself busy between loads by running his vacuum cleaner cursorily throughout the house. At the conclusion of all of this activity, Mike pronounced the house to be 'fit for the holidays'. Not that Mike was expecting any company.
By the time Mike had finished all the cleaning, it had gotten well into the evening. So Mike started preparing his supper, making a simple meal of spaghetti and meatballs.
Taking his meal with him into his living room, Mike had sat down on his favorite recliner and turned on his TV. As he consumed his solitary meal, he watched the news, taking special note of the massive ice storm that Southern Ontario was expecting to arrive overnight.
Anybody with even half a brain won't be out this evening. And I’ve just started my two weeks of vacation. Ahh, I'm all set for some rest and relaxation. Mike thought smugly to himself.
After the meal, Mike loaded his dirty dishes and cookware into the dishwasher and then returned to his chair.
As he pushed the recliner back into a more comfortable viewing position he focused his attention on the TV. As was mentioned before, it was not the season for innovative or interesting TV programming.
Mike idly surfed through the channels, not really expecting to find anything. After a fruitless search for anything new and interesting, he ended up on the classic movie 'It's a Wonderful Life, with Jimmy Stewart'; at least that's the way the program announcers would always read it off to the audience. Mike had no particular objection to watching that movie. In fact he knew that he liked it. It was just that he had already seen it so many times it could no longer hold his attention.
Unfortunately, everything else currently playing was either less interesting or downright irritating. So, Mike settled down into his recliner with one of his favorite books, one which he surely must have read four times already. He allowed the movie to drone on in the background.
Several hours after the movie had ended, Mike lay down his book. He grabbed the remote and with a yawn, turned off the TV. Moving methodically through the house, Mike performed his bedtime check. He checked that the doors had been locked, all appliances were off and lastly, made sure that all lights were off. He then proceeded upstairs, carrying his book with him and got ready for bed.
After completing his bathroom ministrations, Mike crawled in under his blankets.
Since he had planned on going to church in the morning, Mike dutifully set his alarm clock for 9:00 a.m. He left the bedside lamp on as he got comfortable and continued reading his book.
It did not take very long for Mike’s eyes to get heavy. He experienced several episodes of finding himself waking from a light doze only to resume reading the same paragraph over again. Eventually, his eyes closed in true slumber. The book slipped out of his grasp, tumbling to the floor. The bedside lamp burned on.
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DONG…
Mike's eyes started open. What? Was that the doorbell? Mike lay there, feeling groggy, his brain not yet in gear.
Prob'ly a dream. Mike tried to convince himself, even though a vague feeling of guilt kept prodding him awake. There was a lingering feeling that the doorbell was something important.
No. It was just a dream. There was no bell. Mike rolled over onto his back as he became aware that the bedside lamp was still burning.
Maybe I should turn off the light, thought Mike, anxious to return to sleep.
Before I nod off again, I really should just reach out to that lamp and–
DONG… Mike's sleepy contemplation of the bedside lamp was rudely interrupted. His eyes snapped open as he leaped out of his bed.
An expletive almost burst forth from Mike's lips as he stumbled over to his closet, reaching for his bathrobe. He normally liked to sleep in just a pair of boxer shorts but certainly did not wish to greet anybody at the door that way. Besides, the house was quite chilly at night. Before reaching his bathrobe, however, the doorbell sounded again.
DONG… Apparently, the caller was getting impatient. Mike was hurriedly struggling to put on the bathrobe, for some reason it had gotten reversed and he found that the belt was on the inside of his robe.
DONG… Mike was frantically reversing the bathrobe. Finally, he was able to cinch the belt across his waist.
DONG… Mike also managed to locate his slippers. Now how did they get way over there? He wondered, too befuddled to realize they were right where they were supposed to be.
DONG… Now, Mike started getting angry. Irritated by the incessant ringing of his doorbell. Who's doing this? Mike rushed towards the stairway leading down to the first floor.
DONG… Mike was now halfway down the stairs, his frantically pumping feet responding to his anger. This was not a good idea since Mike was still not fully awake. One of his slippers, technically it was a 'mule' - the kind of slipper that was backless, flew off his foot. That unexpected occurrence caused him to stumble.
Fortunately, Mike had kept his left hand on the stair's banister. As soon as he stumbled, his hand clutched at the banister like a vice grip; preventing what could have been a serious fall. Mike found himself hanging off the banister, almost in a head down position, his left arm stretched taut as it held onto the banister, his right hand pushing at the balusters below it. His legs were stretched out behind him as if he had attempted a headfirst dive down the stairway.
The scare from the tumble gave Mike a shot of adrenalin, which mixed in unfortunate ways with his anger. On the positive side, Mike was now most definitely awake. On the negative side, Mike was now somewhat out of control, his emotions firmly ensconced in the driver's seat of his soul.
DONG… Mike growled feelingly as he recovered himself from his sprawling position on the stairs. Hunting down his missing slipper, he jammed his foot into it.
DONG… Neglecting to readjust his rumpled bathrobe, Mike began stomping his way towards the kitchen. He needed to pass through it to reach his back door, the source of the doorbells. “HOW DARE THEY?!” Mike was muttering threats aloud.
DONG… As Mike reached the kitchen, he flicked the switch to turn on the lights and rapidly crossed the floor, stomping as angrily as he could.
Reaching the door, Mike unlatched its deadbolt with a resounding 'clack.' Gripping the door’s handle, he yanked it open in as forceful a manner as he could manage. Without a pause, he rushed forward, slamming the storm door's latch and practically blowing the poor door outward.
Mike's temper seemed to know no bounds, yet, throughout all this, he strove to keep a civil tongue in his head. It was just his hard earned habit to do so.
“WHAT! WHY ARE YOU BOTHERING ME AT THIS TIME OF NIGHT?!” he screamed out, right into the face of his imagined tormenter.
Having vented himself, Mike suddenly felt his anger leave him, like a candle that had been blown out. Now suddenly, Mike felt remorse for such inexpressibly rude behavior, chagrined that he would now have to apologize to the troublesome person at his door.
A moment passed before Mike realized that he could see no one at the door. Puzzled, he looked around to the right and then to the left of the door, supposing that they had moved off to the side. But still, Mike saw no one.
A sudden blast of frigid air blew up his bathrobe, of which the belt had come undone. The sudden chill drew Mike's attention downwards. His world changed at that moment.
What Mike saw was a moderate sized creature laying down upon the stoop before his back door. The creature appeared to be nearly white, having been frosted all over with a heavy encrustation of ice but with undertones of some darker color underneath that ice. Hanging over its head, covering its face, were strings of irregular ice cubes which merged together into a matted sheet. Similar sheets of ice also hung down off of its neck. But most peculiar of all, a softly glowing horn protruded from the top of its icy forehead.
Mike took in most of its appearance with a glance, but his attention was arrested by the sight of two of the most enormous eyes he had ever seen. At first he saw only two white globes, but soon recognized they each contained small quivering pupils, each the size of a quarter. When he met that gaze, Mike froze. A sudden terror of the unknown creature upon his doorstep held him rigidly in place.
Suddenly, the eyes of the creature changed, the constricted pupils ballooning outward rapidly. Mike was suddenly aware that the creature had been quivering in fear but only because its quivering had abruptly stopped. The creature’s head moved slightly. Mike tensed, expecting the worst.
“Please…”
Upon hearing recognizable speech from the creature, Mike's head felt like it had exploded.
The creature continued again, this time in a clearer voice. “Please, my name is Twilight Sparkle. I really need your help. I–”
Upon the delivery of those words the creature, Twilight, closed its eyes. Its head fell down, and the light from its horn was snuffed out. Apparently, it had lost consciousness.
----------------
Mike stood there, ignoring the frigid winds fondling his legs. His mind was in a whirl.
Mike’s first thought was, I know I’m not crazy. But I very clearly heard it talking, in English.
His second thought was, I can't believe it! There's an alien on my door-step.
Suddenly, Mike's thoughts became a jumble as he remembered several sci-fi movies and books.
Like 'Alien'; horrifying parasitic embryos.
Or 'Predator'; butt-ugly alien hunts people like they were game animals.
Or, the classic story, 'Who Goes There?'; Alien found in the Antarctic ice, thaws out and starts killing scientists and assuming their identity. Patiently, it sought other victims in order to reproduce itself. That last idea seemed halfway plausible, as the creature now before him appeared to be covered in ice.
Mike struggled with these fictitious scenarios for a moment. The sight of one small, pitiful creature lying before him helped to put those ideas down. The last words it had spoken, finally penetrated his thoughts. 'My name is Twilight Sparkle,' echoed the memory of its voice. 'I really need your help.'
Okay, Mike, stay calm, he advised himself. It gave you its name and asked you for your help.
What kind of monster gives you its name? ‘Hi, I’m Twilight Sparkle, Just so you know, before your horrible unremarked death.’ Mike shook his head, trying to clear it of irrelevant thoughts.
Okay. Mike thought to himself. It said, ‘I need your help,’ now how do I help it?
Mike took a deep breath. Having thus calmed himself, he took stock of the situation and began to speak, enumerating such facts as he had available.
“An unknown; sentient; alien creature is lying before me.”
“It's covered in ice. So my guess is, it's freezing.”
“It's now unconscious. So I'd say it's in deep trouble.”
“And I think it might have hypothermia.”
“And it asked me for help. Me. Myself. Mike.”
At that moment, Mike started putting aside his fears and opened his heart to compassion. The kind of compassion that God had been teaching him about. His thoughts went on, Somebody needs my help. What kind of person would I be if I left that somebody, even an alien, to die?
Remembering the lessons of his faith, Mike's resolve reached the sticking point.
As God has loved me, so I will try to pass on that love and help this creature. Lord, I trust you. That you have not sent me an evil space alien intent on sucking out my brains, but rather, someone who needs my help.
And with that short prayer, Mike stepped outside to bring the creature into his house.
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The ice was thick on the platform and Mike's slippers, mules, were not equal to the job. His foot slipped, and Mike came crashing down on his butt, banging his elbow as well. His bathrobe hung askew, and Mike yelped, both from the pain of the fall as well as from the bare skin of his legs meeting the frozen ice along most of their length.
Mike scrambled to raise himself to his knees, the ice seeming to burn holes into his bare skin. He was sorely tempted to rush back inside to find some suitable clothes but forbore. Remembering his promise, he decided to put the needs of the creature first.
Mike shuffled forward on his hands and knees until he reached the creature's side. With only a slight hesitation, Mike reached out his arms and attempted to pick up the limp creature.
“Ahh! It's like hugging an ice cube!” Mike yelled, backing off momentarily.
Mike rocked back into an awkward kneeling position, as he sought to work out how to carry the creature. He quickly adjusted his bathrobe for maximum coverage before attempting to grab the creature once more. With two hands he tried to lift it by its torso, but some part of its body moved in an unexpected fashion, and his hand slipped free. Mike looked at the creature more closely.
“It has wings!” Mike exclaimed.
Great! Guess I had better be more careful when handling those. Mike remembered how delicate birds' wings could be.
Mike tried again, attempting to get a grip on the body underneath the wings. This time, the manoeuvre went much better. Mike was able to haul the creature up, lifting its barrel up over his shoulder. At the same time, Mike noticed that the creature had four legs, which ended in hooves. Just in passing, Mike thought about horses.
Mike adjusted his grip and managed to raise the creature over his back and shoulders in something approximating a fireman's carry. The creature's head and left foreleg now dangled over his right shoulder, while its hindquarters were draped over his left shoulder.
Carefully, Mike tried shuffling towards the door on his knees. This did not work too well, as Mike found he could barely move his legs while keeping his balance. Mike was forced to twist his lower limbs to the side, lowering his right thigh onto the ice. Mike gasped, the cold from the ice was excruciating. Next, he put out his right hand on the ice to keep his balance.
Working his legs like a bellows, Mike slowly manoeuvred himself up to the storm door. Carefully he raised himself to his knees again and was able to reach for the door handle with his left hand. Pulling open the storm door, Mike turned and awkwardly deposited Twilight onto the floor just inside the door. Seemingly, its name had taken up permanent residence in his brain. Mike did not notice.
Having thus unburdened himself, Mike was able to cautiously get up off the ice and step back inside to the welcoming warmth of his home.
With firm footing underneath, Mike was now able to scoop up the creature named Twilight and carry it in his arms. Mike paused, wondering where to put Twilight. Under the bright kitchen lights, he could see the masses of ice embedded in its fur and… was that a ‘mane’?
More than ever, Mike was convinced that Twilight was suffering from hypothermia.
Hypothermia was a condition in which the core body temperature drops. The condition, if untreated, could lead to heart failure and death. With all that fur and hair and feathers, Mike thought it was reasonable to assume that Twilight was a warm blooded creature and possibly subject to the malady.
With a human, one could simply dry them off and wrap them in warm blankets. Under conditions of moderate to deep hypothermia, however, a body could no longer generate enough heat to warm itself up, no matter how many blankets were used. Under those conditions, the patient might only survive if they reached a hospital in time.
Mike did not think taking Twilight to a hospital or even a veterinarian would do it any favors. Its alienness would be noted, hysterical calls would be made and some secret government agency would soon have a new permanent guest. However, such thoughts of hospital's were useless, even the simple act of trying to get this creature to one would probably generate enough uncertainty and confusion as to result in its death.
No. Mike realized. Trying to pass this off to the professionals, trying to avoid his own responsibilities, would be equivalent to a death sentence for Twilight. He had promised to help.
Twilight, however, simply by being the creature that it was, had made things more complicated. The problem was, the ice was deeply embedded in its fur, making its removal difficult.
Mike's first thought was to use running water; the fastest, most expedient way to remove the ice. Even cold water was warmer than the ice which was embedded in its fur. Unfortunately, it was actually a very bad idea to warm hypothermia victims by applying too much external heat to their bodies. The sudden application of warmth to their extremities would cause the victim’s blood vessels to open up. Rapidly chilling their blood as it began circulating through the colder tissues. The chilled blood would then lower the victim's core temperature even further, potentially causing their heart to stop.
I've simply got to get that ice off of you as quick as possible, but I don't think I can comb it out. It's risky but running water it has to be.
If Twilight was to have any chance at all, Mike had to get this done quickly.
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Mike carried Twilight out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his only bathroom, straining as he did so. With all the ice adhering to the creature's body, it probably weighed over 60 kilos. Reaching the bathroom, Mike placed Twilight down into the tub, with its tail towards the faucets, and its head facing out towards the end of the tub.
Tail? A distracting thought flickered through Mike’s head. How come I never noticed its tail until now?
Mike considered Twilight, now lying in the tub, for a moment. He was wondering how he should proceed with the deicing.
Mike left Twilight alone, leaving the bathroom to find the supply closet where he kept his towels. He started grabbing everything he could find: all of the face cloths, numerous regular towels, and several bath towels. Returning to the bathroom, he put everything down on the floor outside of the bathtub, within easy reach.
As Mike proceeded to fold a bath towel in half, lengthwise, he began to speak out loud, as if Twilight were listening.
“Right, so I noticed that the fur underneath your wings is still relatively dry, and not quite as cold as the rest of you. So, in order to protect those areas from getting wet, I am going to wrap a large towel around your barrel and underneath those wings. I hope to keep those areas as dry as possible.”
Awkwardly lifting the unconscious creature up by holding it under its abdomen, he slipped one end of the towel underneath it. Manipulating its left wing, he threaded the towel under it and folded the towel's end over the creature's ice covered back. Mike took the other end of the towel and passed it under the creature’s right wing and over onto its back, being equally as gentle with that wing.
Now taking a second bath towel, Mike folded it twice lengthwise, resulting in a thick bolt of cloth, just one quarter the towel's original width.
“Next, I am placing a towel directly under your body. It probably won't make much difference, but maybe it can help keep the chilly water away from your belly. You are not covered with any ice there, so I wish to try avoiding getting that too wet.”
He proceeded to lift up sections of Twilight’s body, sliding the folded towel underneath. Eventually, Twilight's body was lying lengthwise on top of the second towel, elevated off the bottom of the bathtub by nearly half an inch.
Finally, Mike grabbed a regular towel and rolled it up to make a bolster. He placed it under Twilight's chin, elevating its head.
“And now, we start the water and adjust the temperature.” Mike kept on explaining.
Mike then reached up to the end of the tub and turned on the cold water. After that, Mike opened up the hot water tap; just a crack. After 20 seconds or so, Mike put his hand in the water and held it there. The water was pretty cold but not so cold as to make his hand ache.
Mike guessed that the water was at about the right temperature; he hoped that he was right. It needed to be warm enough to break up the ice rapidly. But he was afraid that the running water would suck the heat out of this creature’s body even faster than the ice did. Warm water held its own dangers.
Maybe it's simply not possible to do this. I might end up killing this Twilight creature, Mike thought, despairingly.
“Right, here we go,” He said aloud, suppressing his doubts.
Mike grabbed the hand shower and switched the water flow over to it. Fine needle jets of cold water began spraying out of it. Mike quickly moved the nozzle over to Twilight's head and directed the water jets over its mane, between its ears, and over its face. He made sure to keep the water playing over a small area. Very quickly, the ice that was encrusting its mane and fur started breaking off.
Next, holding the shower spray away from Twilight's body and off to the side, Mike grabbed a face cloth and lightly rubbed down the deiced area, eliminating the last of the ice and removing excess water.
Mike was startled to see the colors that were revealed from under the ice. The creature’s fur was a rich lavender color. Its mane was colored a dark navy blue. Most surprising, were two coherent stripes of color which ran through the mane. One stripe was a deep purple color and the other a rather vivid pink.
Not allowing himself to be sidetracked by the creature's unusual color scheme, Mike proceeded down along its body. He was now deicing Twilight's neck. Deice, rub down and move on.
After its neck, Mike moved on to the creatures withers and shoulders, first the left side, then the right side. He was only taking a small section each time, to avoid overexposing Twilight to the chilling water. As he proceeded, Mike became aware that he was mentally applying equine terminology to the creature’s anatomy.
It does look rather like a horse, except for that strange horn and those freaky wings and, of course, its color scheme. So it’s probably best to use the most relevant terminology. Maybe I should think of it as a ‘miniature horse’? Ahah! That’s a ‘pony.’ It even sounds better than calling it a 'horse.'
When he reached the middle of the pony's barrel, where the wings were attached, the deicing got a little complicated. First Mike took a wet face cloth to wipe the melting ice off of the pony's wings. it came off easily due to it not adhering too well to the pony's feathers.
Next, Mike unwrapped the bath towel's ends, from where they lay over the top of the pony's ice covered back, folding the ends of the towel outwards, over the outside of its wings. Using his right hand, Mike pressed down firmly on the towel over Twilight's right wing, compressing the towel, like as gasket, between the wing and the pony's barrel. Mike then brought over the shower head, still being held in his left hand and soaked down the right side of Twilight's back.
As soon as he had deiced the right side of Twilight's back, Mike removed the towel from under its right wing, and rubbed down the wetted area of its back. The fur under the pony's wing, happily, had remained dry. Cheered by this small victory, Mike quickly switched the shower head to his right hand, and proceeded to deice the left side of Twilight’s back.
After getting past Twilight's complicated wings, it was a simple matter to finish off the rest of the pony's body with the simple motions that had been established earlier. In less than ten minutes, the whole ordeal was over. The last part was deicing Twilight's tail. Pulling it out behind the creature, Mike simply ran the shower head over it for a few seconds until all the ice had broken up. A fresh towel was used to pat the tail dry. Mike did note in passing, however, that the tail had the same color scheme as did the mane on Twilight's head and neck.
“Right, that's done, so let’s get you dry,” Mike spoke up again, as he shut off the water.
Twilight's ear gave a slight twitch. Noticing this, Mike smiled. He took it as a sign that his very important guest was, no longer unconscious, though possibly half-dreaming in some fugue state of consciousness.
“No arguments now. Getting you dry is very important. So please forgive me if some of this makes you uncomfortable.” Mike laid out another dry bath towel on the floor.
The ear gave another twitch. “Thank you,” Mike said, with a smile in his voice. “I believe we are having a most stimulating conversation. Don't you think?” The ear rose up slightly.
“Okay. I am now going to lift you out of the bathtub. Please try to remain calm. I won't hurt you.” The ear dipped momentarily but then gave another twitch. Mike took the movement as a sign of consent.
Mike reached down into the tub and cautiously slid his arms underneath the pony. Carefully he rose, bringing Twilight up over the rim of the tub to place it down gently onto the large towel lying on the floor.
Mike grabbed whatever dry towels remained and started to gently pat down Twilight's fur again. He could not, however, dry the pony too vigorously, since excessive rubbing would stimulate blood flow, cool down its core temperature and risk its life. Also, skin that had been excessively chilled could become delicate and was easily damaged.
Holding up Twilight's head with one hand cupped under it, he gently wiped its face dry, using a few light patting motions over its closed eyes. Mike used similar light pats of the towel to dry its ears.
Soon Mike had dried Twilight's entire body, even having rolled the pony onto its side in order to dry its belly. Mike took extra care to close his eyes and use a thick towel when approaching Twilight's nether regions, figuring that 'sexing' the pony could be extremely insulting and probably lead to false conclusions anyway. It was after all an alien. What if its species came in five different flavours?
Just as he was finishing up, Mike noticed that there were blood stains on some of his towels. His breath caught as he worried that he had done something stupid, and injured Twilight. Anxiously, he took a closer look at his guest. He quickly noticed that the pony had several nasty abrasions and cuts to the lower parts of its legs, which were sluggishly oozing blood.
Wow, your blood is red, just like mine, Mike thought in amazement.
Getting up to rummage through the bathroom's vanity, Mike found a large roll of gauze, a package of cotton balls a bottle of spray antiseptic and antibiotic cream.
“Okay,” he said. “I can see that you have some cuts on your legs.” Twilight's ear dropped just slightly.
“It’s nothing too serious, but I'm just gonna wrap them up with some bandages so they can heal cleanly.” An ear twitched.
Mike grabbed a leg, and sprayed it generously with the antiseptic. He then spread antibiotic cream onto the various cuts. Putting cotton balls over the deeper cuts, to absorb any blood, he then wrapped the appendage with gauze. Finally he tied off the gauze wrapping.
In similar fashion, Mike managed to treat all four legs of the pony.
“There. You’re all done now. Let’s get you warmed up.” Mike stated, with some satisfaction while looking to the pony’s ears. They amused him. He thought them quite expressive and rather charming.
Mike did not see any reaction from Twilight. Suddenly, he was seized with the realization that he had messed up big time. Performing the first aid for a minor issue had taken some time and had distracted Mike from the major life-threatening condition that was now threatening Twilight.
I'm so stupid! He thought bitterly. I got distracted by some minor bleeding, but I should have been focusing on getting Twilight warmed up again. I left Twilight lying there on my bathroom floor, with damp fur. Now its lost consciousness. And it's hardly shivering anymore.
Twilight needs to be warmed up, but it needs to be done gently. The only thing I can think of is to share my body heat.
Up until that moment, Mike had been studiously avoiding any thoughts along those lines, shying away from the idea of having that much contact with the alien. Reluctantly he was forced to embrace the notion. There is no other way. I don't have a second to lose.
Urgently, Mike scooped up Twilight. Cradling the pony in his arms, he carried it into his bedroom and placed it upon his bed. Throwing off his bathrobe, Mike climbed into bed with Twilight and pulled up the covers. Slowly, hesitatingly, Mike reached out and pulled the pony towards his body.
Ahh! That's cold! Mike gave a mental shout, as the chilled pony shocked his body.
Indeed, Twilight's fur was still damp and had cooled down significantly. Gritting his teeth, Mike drew Twilight firmly up against his body. Mike rolled over onto his back, drawing the pony’s body up fully on top of his own abdomen and torso. The full weight of the pony, almost 50 kilos, pressed itself firmly against his body, abdomen to abdomen, chest to chest, maximizing the thermal contact.
With a free arm, Mike rearranged the pillows, laying his head on just the very end of one and piling the second pillow upon the portion of the first pillow he was not occupying so that it overlapped his right shoulder. Next, he arranged for Twilight's head to come over his right shoulder to lay upon the second pillow. Finally, Mike reached up, under Twilight's wings and clasped his hand behind the pony's back. His arms could warm the pony's sides a little and his hands might do the same for its back.
Mike was starting to shiver now, Twilight's body having already sucked up a portion of his own warmth. On the plus side, the parts of their bodies in contact with each other had started to accommodate nicely, so that he no longer felt like he was holding an ice cube.
Some time passed as Mike lay there patiently, shivering constantly, if not too violently. At the moment he was resisting the stupid temptation to let his hands explore the sensory landscape offered by the pony's fur. As Mike thought about it, he realized that his hands were located over the pony's hindquarters, just a little up from its tail. Cautiously, he shifted his grip a little higher up its spine.
Next, Mike became aware that the unconscious pony's hind legs had dropped down on either side of his waistline. In effect, Twilight was straddling his hips in a very intimate manner. The use of Twilight's inner thighs in this arrangement was certainly optimal for maximizing the surface area of their body to body contact but it brought a certain embarrassment to Mike.
Great, I'm being mounted by an alien pony, he reflected wryly to himself.
Then, some time later, I wonder if Twilight is the equivalent of a female? That could end badly for me in so many ways.
Mike lay there musing in the dark, his thoughts spinning through various anime inspired scenarios.
Option one. Somehow this obliges me to marry her/it or else face execution. Ugh. Married? To an alien?
Option two. She/It beats me up so bad I will be wearing a body cast for the next six months. Not looking forward to that one.
Option three. She/It destroys me in a sudden fit of alien rage. Not liking where this is taking me either.
Mikes thoughts continued in this vein for several moments. Eventually, he was able to arrest those unruly imaginings.
So what? He concluded. I am doing what needs to be done. No matter how embarrassing this is to either myself or Twilight, this needs to be done; a life is at stake.
After reaching that conclusion, Mike strove to blank his mind of any further thoughts and focused instead on the task of feeling warm.
----------------
Mike woke suddenly to a quivering sensation. He lay there for a moment, puzzled as to what was going on. Suddenly, he realized there was a weight pressing down on his body, and he remembered that he was holding Twilight. Apparently, the quivering sensation was coming from the alien pony.
Mike was alarmed. Something's wrong! He thought at first.
Then, he realized what was happening. “You're shivering!” He said, speaking softly to the pony.
Twilight's ear gave a sharp twitch as the pony's limbs weakly clasped onto him and tried to pull him in, desperately seeking more warmth. The pony's wings also clamped down on its body, pinning his arms.
“It's a good sign," Mike explained. "Though you're probably feeling miserable right now. The shivering means that your own body is now starting to warm itself.”
“I was very worried for you.” Mike continued to speak in a soft whisper.
“Don't worry, I've got you,” Mike whispered, twisting his head about to get a look at Twilight's face, up above his, on the second pillow. The pony's face was illuminated by the bedside lamp, which was still burning brightly.
Mike saw the pony give a flick of its ear. He could almost swear that he saw the edge of Twilight's mouth curve up in a faint smile.
Do alien ponies smile? Mike wondered.
I never did remember to turn off that lamp. Mike's thought's strayed. I suppose it was for the best.
At that moment, as if in response to his very thoughts, the light flickered, flashed brightly and then went out. The house suddenly grew quiet as the furnace stopped. The only sounds which could be heard now were those of the wind gusting outside, the tiny, dull 'tiks' of icy pellets being slung against the window and the sound of two bodies, breathing.
Mike lay there for a moment, stunned at what had occured.
Shoot. It’s a power failure. What do I do now?
Nothing, he concluded after a moment. Twilight's quivering mounted in intensity.
I stay here and give my little alien friend all the body heat he, she or it needs. Mike's thoughts were colored with determination.
----------------
Over the next hour, Mike stayed awake as Twilight's shivering intensified. As the pony's core body temperature rose, it found the resources to act more aggressively on its own behalf. At times the pony's whole body shook, while its limbs sought to clutch him ever tighter. Mike waited anxiously as he felt his whole body being shaken. It felt as if he were inside a hardware store paint mixer.
After ten minutes of the most severe shaking, Mike was starting to feel somewhat battered. The pony's legs were showing real strength as the grip they had on him became painful. But, it was obvious to Mike that the violent physical activity was taking its toll on the pony as well. The pony began to groan and occasionally whimper. Mike's only response was to hold Twilight tightly, offering what little comfort he could with his own physical presence.
“It’s going to be okay,” he spoke softly, over and over again. “It’s just a little longer. You can do this.”
Mike liked to believe that his encouragement had helped because at least the whimpering stopped. Just in case, Mike held on to the pony, rubbing it's back. He could feel that the pony's fur was now almost dry, just slightly damp.
Finally, after about another half hour, the violent shivering began to subside, and the pony's groans diminished and then ceased altogether. The pony also began to relax its desperate grip on Mike.
After another fifteen minutes, the shivering had died down to an occasional quiver. An hour passed as Mike lay there quietly, waiting to be sure that the crisis had fully passed. By then, all traces of shivering had departed from the pony, and it was sleeping peacefully atop him. Mike gently let go of his hold upon Twilight and dropped his arms down by his side.
Surprisingly, as soon as Mike’s worries and fears were eased, he dropped off peacefully into a dreamless sleep. After all, it had been a very long night.