//------------------------------// // Chapter Two: Strange Creatures // Story: Llamas: A Drama // by SkelePone //------------------------------// LLAMAS a drama CHAPTER TWO: STRANGE CREATURES by SkelePone The elderly unicorn ticketmaster stallion who ran the adjacent cable car station at the mountains’ foothills had never before seen something so peculiar in his almost fifty years of working for the cable car company. As the blue, slick new cable car slide noisily down the wires and rested to a stop at the station, the elderly stallion prepared to say his well-rehearsed and falsely cheery lines: ‘Thank you for using Steampunk Cable Cars. Please come again!’ That basically half of his job, the rest being to sell tickets to pony tourists. Instead all he could muster was a stuttery ‘buh buh buh buh’ as he watched not one or two, but ten llamas pile out of the sleek machine and touch cloven hooves on the wooden floors of the small station. The llama who he assumed to be their leader, a reddish-brownish male with some sort of weird tribal instrument around his neck, blinked several times before laying icy blue eyes upon the ticketmaster. The llama nodded his long neck, bowing his head in a gesture of respect towards the elderly stallion. Unsure of what else to do, the stallion returned the gesture and the llamas left the building together. As soon as the last of the llamas left the premises, the elderly stallion quickly rubbed his eyes with his hooves, blinked, and leaned across the counter to gape out the glass door at the llamas who had begun to trot down the dirt road towards Appleloosa. The dirt road was an old one. It was used as one of the only routes from the Alpaca Mountains to the Earth pony town of Appleloosa. The dirt road cut straight through the Appleloosan Desert, one of the hottest and driest wastelands on this side of Equestria. Poncho led his small Herd down that said dirt road, across a desert that he had not been fully prepared for. Growing up in the mountains, he was fully aware of the desert and plains surrounding them. But what he hadn’t been truly expecting was the incredible heat. Llamas are built for the cold and humid, for the high altitudes of the mountains. Not for the hot and dry climate of the desert. Within minutes of touching hooves on the sandy ground, the majority of them were already panting. Poncho knew they had limited water in the wineskins that Pepe carried on his back. If it was going to be this hot, they would run out of water before they even got halfway to Appleloosa. No wonder the llamas never left the mountains. It was almost physically impossible for them to do so. The ten ploughed on through the overwhelming heat. Hours later, Mama was the first llama to drop off. They all stopped in surprise as Macarena (or maybe it was Cha Cha, it was hard to tell) let out a bray of terror. They crowded around the fallen old llama. She was still alive, fortunately. But she had lost consciousness in the excessive heat and from outrageous exhaustion. Poncho and Vicuña placed her gently on Pepe’s back. The Packer fortunately had a very thin coat of wool, so he had barely even broken a sweat. Unlike the others, who had much thicker coats. They were the unlucky ones. Rico was the next llama to faint. Poncho was surprised by the little one’s strength. He had been expecting Rico to pass out much sooner than the others. But the little one’s strength hadn’t been enough to keep the limping yearling walking. Vicuña and Poncho placed the crippled cria next to the fainted elder. Pepe Fouchan was now showing some sign of a struggle. He was incredibly strong, sure. But no llama was strong enough to power on through a scorching hot desert carrying three times their weight in equipment and food as well as a pair of llamas who were dead to the world. Macarena and Cha Cha dropped to the ground almost half an hour later. They had been helping each other, keeping the other from collapsing. But they couldn’t avoid the inevitable. When Pepe collapsed to the ground, Poncho knew they were hopeless. The brute was even more delirious than he usually was, blubbering about asking dams to ‘send noodz’ and being a ‘call of doots sniper pro’. Without their Packer, they had no way to carry their supplies and the ill. Poncho felt hopelessness consume him. He also felt incredible shame. They had only been away from the rest of the Herd for a few hours and he was already failing as a leader. Abuelo Urcu would be so disappointed in them. Poncho felt like dropping to the ground and crying like a cria as Bonita too fell to the ground. There was only Churro, Vicuña, Bronco, and Poncho left. And there was no way that they would be getting any further through this desert any time soon. Of course, as Poncho opened his dry mouth to order Bronco to try carry the fallen, the Guard crashed into the sand and let out a groan. He was followed almost immediately by the baker, Churro. “We are doomed.” Vicuña mumbled to Poncho. They were the only ones still standing. Or rather standing up, they had both thrown themselves hopelessly onto the sand. Poncho wiped the sweat from his brow and looked over his fallen comrades. Maybe the darkened shaman was right. “We have to find help…” Poncho rasped. Vicuña nodded slowly, and shakily got back up on his cloven hooves. As soon as Vicuña got up, however, he crashed once more to the ground. “Vicuña… Can’t… You do something… About… This… Heat?” Poncho wheezed. Vicuña nodded again, no longer able to speak, and dug a hoof through the pouch at his side, moving away his dark cloak to reveal an oddly colored coat of blue wool. He removed his cloven hoof, now coated in a gritty blue paste. He rubbed some across his nose clumsily, and then did so with Poncho. As soon as the mysterious paste touched Poncho’s muzzle, he felt a wave of cold wash over him. He actually shuddered from the suddenly freezing temperatures. He was chilly… in a desert. Vicuña must had given him some sort of cooling cream. Vicuña stumbled over, also shaking, to rub some paste across the unconscious llamas’ noses. They all fluttered open their eyes, but they were so weak with the heat exhaustion to even get up again. They either laid upon their side or in a semi-comfortable kush position unique to the llamas. Poncho knew for a fact that they were in no condition to continue their journey for a good long while. Poncho knew that they would need plenty of rest to continue on to Appleloosa. “We can put up camp here. Tomorrow, we’ll get to Appleloosa.” The Herd let out sighs of relief and mwas of exhaustion as they dug around through the bags on Pepe’s sides. They folded out patterned blankets to quickly lay upon in various states of being half-dead and delirious. Behind them, the sun began to set. It cast a rainbow of oranges, violets, reds, and navy blues as Poncho took the oopoochawa dangling from his neck off and placed his cloven hooves on the box that lie in the sand, plucking the metal keys. Beautiful tinkling music spiraled across the dusk sky and across them as Poncho sang a traditional lullaby to his small herd. “Los pollitos dicen Pio, pio, pio Cuando tienen hambre Cuando tienen frio La gallina busca El maiz y el trigo Les da la comida Y les presta abrigo Bajo sus dos alas Acurrucaditos Hasta el otro dia Duerman los pollitos La gallina dice Cloc, cloc, cloc Cuando canta el gallo Cuando sale el sol Bajo sus dos alas Acurrucaditos Hasta el otro dia Duermen los pollitos La gallina dice Clock, clock, clock Cuando canta el gallo Cuando sale el sol.” Poncho smiled as the llamas snored. He gazed up at the large full moon. From the distance he could hear wolves and Diamond Dogs baying to the ivory orb as it hung so gallantly from the sky. He was startled from his stargazing by a tugging on his wool. It was little Rico. “Poncho… Can you sing again? I can’t sleep...” Poncho smiled down at the youngling. Rico sat on his haunches and beamed up at the leader with big brown pleading eyes. The cria was far too sweet to just ignore his plea. “Yes, Rico. Go lay down, now.” Rico hobbled over to his blanket in the sand and plopped down, looking to Poncho expectantly. Poncho wasn’t known for keeping an audience waiting. He began to sing again, his words and notes echoing across the dunes as a lone Timber Wolf howled in the distance. A new day called for a new strategy. Poncho had noticed that many of the dunes cast small shadows over the road. So he conjured up the brilliant plan to rest for a few moments under these shadows. It slowed them down, yes; but at least none of the Herd would be fainting or maybe even worse, dying of heat stroke. Their water supply was entirely gone. They had drunken all of their water and now the empty wineskins slapped against their flanks as they walked, reminding them that the flasks were as empty as can be. Poncho knew that if they didn’t reach Appleloosa by noonday, they could consider themselves dead. Suddenly from the distance, they could see a cloud of dust approaching them from the direction of Appleloosa. As the mystery object grew nearer and nearer, Poncho could see that it was a pony-made wagon, quickly pulled by several stallions. In the open ornate green wagon was a single pony. Poncho could see it was a pretty Earth pony mare with a tall red mane styled pompously, a mare that had a beauty mark on her cheek. As the wagon with the pretty pony neared them, it came to a sudden halt beside the llamas. The cloud of dust that had formed washed over the llamas, coating them in sand. “Well lookee here, boys! It’s some llamas! Dear me, what are you poor things doing off of the mountain!? And in the middle of the desert?” She cried. A stallion nickered. “Well, Miss Jubilee, I think they fancied a visit to Appleloosa.” “What?! They plan on getting all the way to Appleloosa by hoof?” They were acting like the llamas couldn’t speak, by they way they talked about them directly within earshot. Poncho let out an aggravated cough, directing their attention to the russet leader llama. He frowned slightly as they blushed in embarrassment. Ponies were strange creatures. Rude creatures, yes. But strange all the same. “We need help. We do need to get to the town of Appleloosa, yes. But we can barely make it across the desert with our thick wool heating us up so much. Would you be so kind, ma’am, as to give me and my Herd a quick ride back to the town? We would be ever so grateful.” Poncho inquired politely. Cherry Jubilee looked thoughtful for a moment, pondering. “Well, I was plannin’ on visitin’ the Fresh Hooves Market today. But I guess your safety is far more important than buying a few silly little mink furs. Eh, I never really liked ‘em anyways. Sure! Come on up, everypony - er… Everyllama! Here, bring up the little one first. Eeyup, there we go, darlin’.” Pepe and Bronco lifted up Rico, who sat beside Cherry. The little llama looked up at the pony with wide, curious eyes. Poncho knew that this must have been the youngling’s first time encountering a pony of any kind. Vicuña, Bronco, Churro and the others eagerly piled in. The carriage creaked some, but it supported their weight. “Well now,” Cherry Jubilee said merrily as they trundled off in the opposite direction; towards Appleloosa, not away from, “tell me, Mister Llama. How does a small group of… one two three four five six seven eight nine… oh ten, ten llamas end up stranded in the middle of the Appleloosan Desert? I thought your kind never left the mountains.” “Please, ma’am. Call me Poncho.” “In that case, Poncho, call me Cherry. Cherry Jubilee.” Poncho smiled at her witty comment. “Well then, Cherry. We were told by our Herd to leave the mountains. We are looking for a better life. Not just for us, but for all llamas who wish to leave the mountains. Abuelo Urcuchillay, our leader, told us to come down here and seek out a better way of living, among you ponies. We also left because our Herd had gotten too big. Manticores and other horrible monsters were eating our crias.” “Excuse me,” Cherry interrupted as the carriage thundered on, “and excuse my ignorance, but what exactly is a cria?” “A cria is what we call our younglings, what you would call your ‘foals’.” Cherry Jubilee gasped and raised a hoof to her mouth dramatically. She looked to Poncho with wide eyes of horror. Poncho did not understand her reaction. Such was the way of life. Predators needed food. Llamas were prey. If a predator ate a cria, the Herd could birth ten more to replace the one in a heartbeat. “Manticores are eating your foals?!” She almost shrieked. A few driver stallions actually looked back in alarm at their passengers. “I know that feel, bro,” Pepe interjected randomly. Both the llama and the mare ignored him and continued as if he had never spoken. Poncho specifically did not feel like including the loony llama in the conversation. “They have been, for generations. It’s just the way of life. You live or die.” Vicuña explained, joining the conversation (who Poncho would gladly prefer to join, other than Pepe), “Eat or be eaten, such is the way of the llamas.” Poncho nodded in thanks at the shaman. With but a few words the cloaked llama had explained almost everything about Llama culture. Quite impressive. “That’s terrible!” “To a pony maybe,” Vicuña muttered. Poncho wondered if Vicuña have a problem with ponies. He knew that Mama didn’t like ponies, by the way she hacked up and spat over the side of the wagon whenever Cherry Jubilee looked at her. Llamas were infamous for their ability to spit, especially at things they didn’t like. “It’s a way of life we have come to accept. Llamas get eaten. Llamas go on. We understand how it is horrifying to a pony. You ponies live in safety in your buildings and you use much powerful magic. Llamas are nomads. We travel wherever, whenever we need to restock our supply of food. And llama magic is not quite what pony magic is…” Poncho said, eyeing Mama as she spat once more, “Vicuña, you may wish to explain this.” The shaman nodded his hooded head and spoke to Cherry. “Llama magic is mostly divination and blessings. We speak with the spirits of nature. We use the magical boosts from sacrifices to aid us in our working of the spirits’ magic.” Cherry Jubilee’s eyes bugged out in repulsion. “S-S-S-Sacrifices?! You make sacrifices?! I hope these are vegetables you’re sacrificing!” Vicuña shook his head. “You sacrifice ANIMALS?!” Cherry was incredulous. She looked like she was about to faint. “You misunderstand us,” Vicuña said, attempting to calm the mare, “we do not sacrifice other llamas. We have not done that for many generations. Not since your Alicorn Princesses showed the shaman Magai that sacrificing pigs and chickens was just as effective as using a llama. It is now taboo to sacrifice any animal that has the ability to speak.” “That’s still awful…” Cherry mumbled, “Next thing you’re going to tell me is that llamas eat ponies.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” Poncho scolded, “llamas do not eat meat, just like ponies. We are not monsters.” After that, the rest their ride went on in silence, other than the creaking of the axles and the grunting of the stallions pulling the wagon. Cherry Jubilee seemed to be somewhat afraid of Vicuña and Poncho now, but she still found Rico to be endearing. The two talked in hushed whispers as they grew close to the pony town, which Poncho could see clearly in the distance. When they finally reached Appleloosa, Cherry eagerly ushered them off of her carriage and she snapped at the stallion’s reins. They let out nickers of aggression but galloped off at full speed, leaving the llama herd behind in a cloud of dust. As the others started to chatter excitedly, Poncho watched sadly as Cherry’s wagon disappeared into the distance. Ponies were strange creatures. Very strange creatures indeed.