//------------------------------// // First Impressions // Story: These Old Claws of Mine // by megabyte97 //------------------------------// I think I had too much to drink last night, because anyone with an ounce of common sense would have known to not sleep when the “Mistress of Dreams” considers you a threat. In the waking world, I could declare myself her equal in terms of combat and make her take me seriously. Even if I never raised a hand against her, if I just met with her face to face, I might have been able to talk some sense into her. Instead, I made the stupid mistake of going to sleep and entering her domain, where she is a goddess in all but name. This is the primary reason for my current predicament. ‘Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!’ I repeated in my head over and over again, as I ran through the seemingly endless maze of trees. After days of wandering these woods, I thought my situation couldn’t get any worse, after all I was lost in a forest, and running low on jerky and water. I should have known that my situation would get worse before it got better. Today marked the fifth day of my journey through these trees, and my food finally ran out. I was looking for some fruit as I walked when I came across a clearing with a few shrubs. Taking a closer look, I found that they had some bright blue berries on them and picked a few. I had just got done harvesting the first two bushes and putting the berries in my bag when a feeling of dread hit me like a truck. I dropped to the ground a second before something sailed over my head. Looking over, I saw a spear embedded in the ground a few feet away. I’d been sprinting through the trees ever since, my legs and lungs burning from the extended use. The feeling of dread filled me again and I threw myself forward, a loud bang sending my ears ringing. Looking up, my fear skyrocketed as I saw a large hole through a tree that was almost wider than I am, and another spear embedded in the tree behind it. ‘NOPE!’ my mind yelled at me before I took off in a dead run. My vision blurred as panic took hold of me. I ran, not registering where I was going until I felt a sense of falling. My face contorted in horror once I realized… I just ran off a cliff. My forward momentum flipped me around to where I was looking at the cliff, my thoughts freezing as I saw what chased me. ‘...I was run off a cliff, by bipedal cats… with spears…’ The world went white as pain erupted throughout my body. I stumble backwards, gulping down air as the mare beside me tilted her head in thought. She’s in a full set of bulky black armor with only her head and wings exposed. Her mane is a mass of moving stars and the color of her fur so dark that it seems to suck the light from the surrounding void. “I really don’t like you right now, Luna,” I grumble as I steady myself. “We care not for whom thou favor old man, only that thou continue thine tale,” the mare replies before glancing back at me. “Now, resume said tale, or must we force thee to comply?” I glare at her as she looks back with a bored expression; after what seems like hours I close my eyes and sigh. “...Running off the mountain knocked me unconscious, when I woke up I found myself in a room made of stone…” There wasn’t much in the room. Glancing around I saw a torch lighting the room in a dim glow, a closed stone door on one of the walls, a jar filled with liquid, a dead bunny that had been there for a while if the smell was any indication, and… my bag and toolbox? “What the hell,” I whispered as I sat up, my entire body yelled in protest to the action causing me to wince in pain and lay back down, a burning sensation filling my entire being. ‘Okay, so moving is not a good idea… Where am I anyways?’ I don’t know how long I stared at the stone ceiling, but my mind was at war with itself, conjuring up scenarios and just as quickly shooting them down. ‘Is this a prison? No, if I was in prison then why would they give me my stuff? Who saved me? It couldn’t be those cats, I’d be dead if they caught me. What were those cats anyways? How am I still alive? Why was I saved? Whoever saved me doesn’t want me dead, if they did they would have just left me. Do I have something they want?.. Maybe, but then why didn’t they just take what they wanted from my bag? Unless they need to know something. Wh-’ My thoughts were interrupted when the stone door screeched open. Lifting my head I saw a… large grey bipedal dog… wearing what looked like a white toga, with small jars tied around its body… enter the room. ‘Well… That’s a thing,’ I thought as I stared at the canine. My mouth opening as I saw it slather a bitter smelling liquid on its paws from one of its many jars. “Uhh…” The dog’s head snapped up as it looked at me with its abnormally large eyes, and then chuckled. At least I think it chuckled, it was kind of hard to tell, but considering the grin on its face I assumed it was a pretty safe bet. The canine then proceeded to coat whatever was on its paws on my arms, the steady burning sensation I’d been feeling in them dulling as it went. After finishing my arms the dog pulled up my jeans and shirt and slathered the rest of my body in the ointment as well. Once the dog was finished it stepped back and shook its head before asking something. Well, I assumed it was asking something, as I couldn’t understand it, and it repeated itself as it started gesturing with its paws the second time. I continued to stare at the dog with wide eyes, only opening my mouth once the dog facepalmed. “You do realize I can’t understand you right?” That seemed to do the trick as the dog got this look in its eyes before walking out the door yelling something. Blinking at the sudden turn of events, I started staring at the ceiling again. Before I could start freaking out, the dog came back with a companion, this one wearing a suit of crude armor. The dog in the white toga opened its mouth… And an unearthly screech tore through the air. My eyes snap open as I lunge into a sitting position, my gaze darting around the room while I gulp in air. Once my eyes adjust I find myself sitting on my bed in the little shack I call a house. Everything is just the way I left it, and once I’m sure of it, I collapse back on my bed. “Damn it Luna, why won’t you listen?” My eyes are drawn to the single window in my house, or more specifically the light filtering through it, signaling the start of a new day. Sighing, I get up off my bed and stretch before walking over to the table. I pick up the candle with the black flame and return it to the closet, extinguishing the candle with the green flame as I close it. Grabbing my backpack and toolbox I take one last look around the house before walking out the door. ‘Well, it was relaxing while it lasted. Next stop, Canterlot.’