Chapter 8: Markowski Ranch
EVERY TIME I saw another pair of ponies amble up, I bit on my grin.
It was nice, just being there on the edge of the Elizabeth River Parkway, homes and boutiques in sight across the street, cars flowing slowly by. And surrounded by more ponies than I'd ever seen in my life. Peach's words about losing myself in fantasies haunted me, but I was all right. I'd convinced myself ponies were something other than kale or marshmallows—I didn't know what, but I imagined it couldn't hurt to find out.
There were the two I knew, of course, Peach and George. Then there was the trip's organizer—Red Rover, a scruffy, thick-headed red earth stallion whose messy dark brown tail was more like a frazzled broom. I saw him pull objects out of it more than once and kept looking to see if he'd do it again. The rest of the ponies came in twos and threes, some loud and boisterous and some chatting quietly. A couple humans, a girl and a guy, arrived with one of them, but aside from that I was the only human in the group.
Fifteen ponies now, with all kinds of cutie marks. A rake, a birdhouse, a pony-shaped cookie.... It was funny—there were more ponies in the Greater New York metro than anywhere else on Earth, and that was still only about a thousand. Vancouver was a distant second with a pony population of maybe ten dozen. Unless immigration picked up, I wouldn't have a lot of opportunities to be with this many ponies at once. And given that the human population of New York alone was almost ten million, I knew I was utterly lucky to have one for a neighbor.
I scritched Peach's mane while we stood and waited. Red Rover was mostly schmoozing with ponies he knew, but he took time to fill in the group now and then. Uncle Clyde would be here soon with the bus, he said; so and so was on their way and we wouldn't leave without them; oh, we'd like Janine, she was a real class act. He struck me as more of a community organizer than a corporate VP—not that I would really know. But he did have the confidence of a leader.
Suddenly, a commotion. A little, noisy crowd was crossing Broad Street, and in the middle of it... well, it looked like a costume. I didn't even register what I was seeing until I heard one of the mares around me say 'minotaur'. But yeah—that's what it was.
Wow. A real minotaur. I'd known there were a handful of the other races, the non-ponies, here on Earth, but I'd never seen any in the flesh. “That's really a minotaur?” I asked Peach. “Is he coming with us?”
She was standing as tall as she could and staring. “That's a cow, and yeah. I think she is!”
A cow? What a weirdly mundane term for what I was seeing. This minotaur was clearly a warrior type, with a fierce face despite the lack of horns, studded overalls—at least, they looked like overalls to me—and pockets gleaming with metal things that might have been weapons. She was accompanied by two stallions in mail shirts who kept the surrounding crowd at bay. Once they were across the street, though, they bowed to the minotaur and took off. Looked like she was planning to ride alone.
Red Rover went over to greet his special guest, and for a while they talked quietly.
“Ever see a minotaur before?” Peach asked George.
“Got to admit I haven't.”
“Me neither,” I whispered.
We weren't the only ones surprised: the ponies around us were staring and whispering. Eventually the minotaur became aware of the impression she was making. She faced the crowd and combed back her bright auburn brush of hair with a massive arm. “No fears, ponies. Pyrrha Parnassus is here in peace! She is not a warrior today.”
Wow. Not only was her voice gruff and heavy, she referred to herself in the third person, just like... a certain other minotaur I was trying and failing not to compare her to. Was that normal? I didn't know whether to laugh or cringe. Peach gave me a pained look; she seemed to feel similarly.
“Friends,” announced Red Rover to the group, “this is Pyrrha Parnassus. She's a bodyguard for Mighty-Tongue Max, the Minnow ambassador to the UN. She's coming with us for her day off. Just treat her like anybody else, okay?”
A few ponies tittered at the silly names—and when a pony thinks your name is silly, you know you have problems—but aside from that, the announcement got nothing but murmurs. Frowning, or rather, scowling, the minotaur strode into our midst, taking us in. Ponies around her shied away, but one, at least, didn't seem put off. George walked right up and asked, “So, how many days a week are you a warrior?”
'Pyrrha Parnassus' looked down, surprised to be addressed. “Hard to say. The throes of war seldom call Pyrrha to action. But in spirit, if not action, she is often called upon to be a warrior.”
“But whom do you war with?” asked a squeaky-voiced pale blue mare. Looked like George's question had broken the ice.
“There are always enemies of the Minnow Empire,” the minotaur replied, posing one arm. “We must remain vigilant against the cruel harpies of Thraxus and the venomous serpents of Undulea, not to mention incursions from Ardasti, the ferocious Ram King.”
I was too baffled to laugh at the funny names anymore. Meanwhile, most of the ponies just got more skittish. “Jeepers,” said George. “Your lot don't have it easy, do you?”
The minotaur narrowed her eyes. “We do not all have the fortune to be ruled by an immortal mage-princess.”
George raised an eyebrow and shrugged, as if to admit she had a point. They might have kept talking, but that was when a wide white and blue bus rounded the corner and headed our way with a couple friendly honks. It was time to hit the road.
All told, we were a little under thirty on the bus. The seats were pony-style—low, flat padded benches, with a few normal seats mixed in. Uncle Clyde, the driver, greeted us once we were seated. He turned out to look a lot like Red Rover in human form—scruffy half-beard, middle-aged and fat... but in a comfortable way. “Folks, thanks for joinin' me and Red on this little trip. We'll be about forty-five minutes gettin' down to the ranch.” The bus revved to life and pulled out of the lot. “So how's everypony doin'?”
There was a polite chorus of 'Woo-hoo's and other cheers. A little hoof clomping. I thought it was interesting that our human host had used the word 'everypony' while our pony host had said 'everybody', but it didn't seem worth mentioning.
It wasn't long before we were on the Turnpike, and Uncle Clyde was babbling intermittently about its history. Some of the ponies were listening intently; others were peering out the windows or in quiet conversation. Peach and George were among these, reclined on the long seat next to mine. They didn't talk much, and when they did, I could only make out a bit of it. George said something about highways and what they mean to him, and Peach grunted. Then she said she hoped they never build them in Equestria, and that's all I heard.
I could have leaned over and inserted myself into the conversation, but it felt wrong. And fittingly, just as I was wondering whether Peach could ever be as comfortable chatting with me as with another pony, the one and only woman on the bus appeared at my other shoulder with a “Hello there!”
She was pretty—her long brunette hair was a little thin, but I liked that better than any kind of big-haired look, and her low cheeks made her seem approachable. “Hi!” I replied. I liked the way her brown and red collar framed the hollow of her... oh god, what was I thinking? I'd seen her arrive with a guy, and besides. I had Peach. Didn't I?
“Isn't this exciting? I feel like I'm so lucky to be here!” Her voice was oddly quiet for how excited she sounded. She paused, but I wasn't quick enough to formulate an answer. “All these ponies in one place,” she clarified.
This was instantly embarrassing. “Oh yeah,” I agreed.
“I've got a work friend who's a pony and he told me about it,” she went on, gesturing vaguely toward a slight tan colt near the front. “And then Dan wanted to come too... how did you hear about it?”
Dan must have been the other man. So, was he just another work friend, or...? “I got a flier. Er, Peach here put it in my box, I mean.” Peach was listening over her shoulder with a cautious expression.
The girl laughed. “I'm pretty sure they didn't pass out fliers for the public or there'd be dozens of people here. Hi, I'm Meg.” The girl offered Peach her hand.
Peach and George introduced themselves. I got the sense they had the same slightly queasy feeling about the girl I did. I wasn't sure how much of my quease was what, though.
“So have you known each other long?” asked Meg.
“Just a couple weeks,” I answered. Without thinking, I draped my hand over the armrest onto Peach's seat, and to my surprise, I felt her put her hoof in it.
Meg seemed to notice. “Well that's great,” she said. But she didn't seem to know what to say next. “I'm sure you'll all have a great time.”
“Or at the least, an illuminating one,” put in George.
The girl nodded nervously. “Absolutely. All right! Have fun.” And she returned to her friends.
I exchanged a glance with Peach—I'd call it a knowing glance, except that I, at least, didn't know what she was thinking. But it felt right to get up and join her and George on the long bench, so I did.
“I'm glad you came,” Peach murmured.
“Heh,” I breathed.
Five minutes later, I was leaning against the window frame and watching the scenery with Peach lying peacefully across my lap. I felt like a lucky son of a gun. I was staring at her back, too cowardly to put my hand on it but wondering how it would feel. I wondered if I could locate her backbone. FiMlanders did have vertebrae, right?
George was watching me with bright eyes, saying nothing.
We weren't on the Turnpike anymore, and something out the window happened to catch my eye. A big wooden sign, painted white, was crowned with a picture of a peach. Beneath it was the name Pleasantview Orchard, and in smaller lettering: “JUL – SEP, PICK YOUR OWN.” Beside the sign, an unpaved road led to a sea of pink braced by endless brown trunks.
“Wow,” I said. I was about to call Peach to the window when, just in time, I remembered that her gift of fresh peaches was supposed to be a surprise. But in the next moment, I chucked that idea out the window. Life is meant for the here and now. “Check it out, Peach!”
Peach clambered up and stared out the window until the blooming peach trees were out of sight. She had the most beautiful open-mouthed smile.
“Too bad the bus stops for no one,” observed George.
“I've got to go there someday,” said Peach. “What town was that?”
I shrugged. “Betcha Red Rover knows.”
So she leapt down and went to find out.
^.^ ^.^ ^.^ ^.^ ^.^ ^.^ ^.^ ^.^
The ranch was on the edge of town, but even so, expensive houses and yards were visible from where we were let off. One side rose into light woodland; Colts Neck was in another direction, and ahead of us were pastures and fields. Uncle Clyde went ahead while the rest of us gathered and waited at the edge of a fence a little way from the parking lot. No ponies—Terran ponies, I mean—were in sight.
“The grass is greener on the other side,” observed Peach. She was obviously right—it was scraggly and dry on our side of the fence.
“That's the way of things,” said George. They exchanged a glance and then looked back at me.
“What, is this a metaphor?” I asked.
“Maybe!” admitted Peach.
“If each world were a pasture, it might be,” mused George. “What if you had a portal before you, blank as the sky? Say it lives in your closet, and you've got no clue where it leads. Do you go through?”
“A magic portal?” I asked. “Like the one you came through to get here?”
“Precisely. Only without any guarantees. All you know is, someone built it from the other side, so there must be people there. But that's all. Do you cross?”
“Do you?” asked Peach.
“I would,” said George. “But that's me. I won't think any less of you if you say no.”
I thought for a few seconds. “I'd have to know more than that,” I said. “What if I step through and tumble a thousand miles?”
“Could happen,” admitted George. “Then again, maybe it'd turn out all right even then. What sort of folks build a portal over a thousand mile drop without putting a cushion at the bottom?”
“I'd probably peek in,” said Peach.
“Good way to get your head lopped off!” said George, grinning. “When you came through from Long Hedge, didn't they tell you to keep moving? Don't fool around in the middle of the portal?”
Peach gave him a light shove. “You can't cut your head off in a magic portal!”
“If something goes wrong, you could. Peach, love, you're all in or you stay home. What's it gonna be?”
She gestured around herself—at Markowsky Ranch, at Colts Neck, at Earth. “Here I am,” she said. “What do you think?”
I edged forward, grasping the fence. “George, are you really saying you've got no fear of the unknown?” His cutie mark was a psychedelic question mark, after all.
He looked me in the eyes. “You've got me wrong! I've got a healthy fear of the unknown, Sergeant. Just that my sense of wonder outweighs it, is all.”
I glanced at the minotaur he'd had no trouble approaching before. She was fidgeting on the edge of the crowd while Red Rover kept her entertained. “I can believe it. But aren't there more dangerous things than... wondrous things out there?”
“That's quite the conclusion you've jumped to, mate,” he chastened. “But at least it's a jump.”
That was a puzzle I was going to have to work out later. We were greeted by the rancher, Janine Markowsky, a lean dusky middle-aged blonde in a cream-colored shirt, a denim vest and what I assumed must be a riding helmet. Uncle Clyde lumbered behind.
“It's good to see such a big group,” said Janine, all smiles. “This is only the second time we've had a tour especially for FiMlanders, and I'm excited! Yes, the first tour went fine, but now we've got a better sense of what kind of questions you'll have. May I ask for a show of hooves, or hands? How many of you have seen a Terran pony in the flesh before?”
I realized that I actually didn't know whether I had. I'd been around horses now and then, but I had no idea what the cut-off between them and ponies was. Since only a few hooves were going up, including Red Rover's, I kept my hand down.
“In a minute, we'll head down to the paddock where my son James and our colleague Holden will join us. We're going to be introducing you to six Terran ponies today, as well as a couple of horses. In case you didn't know, the horse is the official state animal of New Jersey! But first, I'm curious—does anyone have any questions? Or would anyone like to share their expectations?”
I wasn't really sure what she meant by that, but several of the ponies had something to ask or say, so we got a congenial little meeting before heading in. One pale green mare prefaced her question with, “So, this is a really stupid question...” And Janine wasn't the only one who smiled.
“Do you know what I say to that?” she answered. “I could say there are no stupid questions, but honestly, I don't believe that's true—I've heard some real humdingers.” The crowd laughed. “However, I will say that, four years ago, if someone had asked me whether today I'd be talking to a group of every-colored ponies with symbols of their destinies emblazoned on their rear-ends, I'd've probably thought that was a humdinger, too.” This time I joined in the laughter. “So in short, don't be ashamed. We have a lot to learn about each other.”
The mare's question turned out to be: “The ponies we're going to meet... they can't talk, right?”
This time it was Pyrrha Parnassus who broke into a belly laugh, which was awkward. “That's right,” said Janine. “They can't talk, can't fly, and can't do magic. But they can still be a lot of fun.”
“What do they like to do for fun?” asked a young stallion.
Janine bit her lip for a moment. “Well, they like good weather and good food, like anyone. Most of them like to socialize and a few like to give rides. There's one stallion, Boston, who's being trained in dressage, and he likes going through his paces. Aside from that...” She spread her hands. “Well, most of them like attention! And we're about to give them some.”
It felt like a good answer, given that she didn't want to disappoint anyone. Then a gray stallion said that he was looking forward to staring into an Earth pony's eyes and seeing if they could connect, somehow. Janine said he was more than welcome to try. And so on.
After all this build-up, we entered the ranch building, met Holden and James, and were shown the trophy room and the tack room. The former had pictures—some of the ponies hadn't even seen pictures of Terran horses before, so they gathered around and marveled for a while. The tack room was grimmer—whatever they may already have known, the group didn't seem too comfortable with the idea of equipment made specifically for controlling a pony. Saddles were familiar to them; halters, bridles, reins and bits were pretty much not. I noticed there were no spurs on display—no doubt for the best.
Finally, we moved out into the yard and waited by the paddock for the grand unveiling. As we watched, the three ranchers opened up the stable doors and led three Terran ponies up to the fence, talking softly to them as they went. Several of the Equestrian ponies leapt up against the fence, staring; a couple pegasi hovered overhead for a better view.
A gold mare with a xylophone cutie mark broke the silence. “Can they understand what you're saying?”
Janine looked up, embarrassed but smiling. “Kind of. Not like you do. It's the tone of my voice they listen to, not the particular words.” She gave the chestnut pony she was leading a pat on the neck. “And we don't always talk to them when we lead them... I guess it just seemed like the thing to do, under the circumstances.”
This spurred quite a bit of quiet discussion among the group. James, Janine's son, arrived with a blond pony in tow that kept straining its head out at the alien spectators. James had to keep it in check. “This is Marcellus,” he announced. “He's a four-year-old palomino Australian. We're raising him as a riding pony, especially for children and parties.”
Somepony in the back gasped. “He's a party pony? Like Pinkie Pie??”
James looked astonished, and then couldn't hold back a silly laugh. “Not exactly.”
His mother took over. “We invite parents whose children are celebrating birthdays or other special occasions to come here and get to know our animals! In addition to horses and ponies, we have goats, sheep, and dogs. But the animals don't do any of the planning.”
There were noises of disappointment as well as snickering. “What's wrong with their legs?” somepony asked.
Janine set her jaw. “What do you mean, exactly?”
“What are those ridges sticking out? And are those knobby things their knees?”
“Um... yes to the knees... and I'm not sure what you—”
That's where Red Rover interrupted. “I'll answer that question. There's nothing wrong with their legs. That's just how they are. You're seeing their tendons protrude, and that's natural. And the knobby knees and big hooves are natural, too.”
“Thanks, Red,” said Janine, a little unsettled.
So it went. Holden introduced his pony, a nine-year-old bay Shetland called Daffodil, and Janine showed us hers, the American Quarter Pony she'd mentioned called Boston. “I've been training Boston here personally for dressage shows—he had his first one this spring, and it went all right.”
“What's dressage?” someone asked.
Janine was ready for that one. “It's like ballet for Terran horses. They compete—or rather, we compete them against each other—on how well they move when being ridden. They're judged on how well they keep to the routine, respond to signals, maintain rhythm, and so on.”
Peach spoke for the first time. “Do they know what they're doing?”
“It's kind of hard to say,” said Janine. “They know they're obeying their training, and I think they usually know they're working to please their rider. Beyond that, I don't really know. They may realize the audience is watching them—they may realize they're competing. Or they may not.”
“But you work with Terran ponies,” said the little white mare with a pony-shaped cookie mark. “How can you not know?”
Janine shrugged helplessly. “We do our best to get to know them, but there's only so far you can see into a horse's mind.”
“It's not like we can just ask them,” joked Holden, a sturdy larger ranch hand whose lips went tight when his remark fell flat.
Janine continued. “Now, earlier I told you Boston was a stallion, but to be more accurate, he's actually a gelding. I learned not to throw that word around too easily from our first FiMlander tour! Does anypony here know what a gelding is?”
I couldn't believe she was asking that. Even harder to believe, it was the minotaur who answered. “That is an impudent pony who has been stripped of his treasures!” she bellowed.
Awkward. Lots of awkward. I heard one pony murmur “How dare you?” Others gasped.
“Um... that's one way of putting it,” said Janine. “But... well, it has nothing to do with impudence. It's not a punishment. The fact is, the majority of male Terran ponies and horses are gelded young—usually under two years of age. In most cases, it actually helps them to be better horses. It gives them a better disposition, which makes it easier to train and ride them. And it keeps them focused on their work.”
There was a rising clamor of questions, prompting the ranchers to flinch and grit their teeth. Looked like the second tour wasn't taking it much better than the first must have.
“What exactly are we talking about here?”
“That's awful! It sounds like slavery!”
“Who are you to decide what makes a horse better?”
“What do you mean a better disposition? Do you mean docile? Do you mean meek, and quiet, and easy to control?”
“Couldn't you use the same reasoning for Equestrian ponies? Or for that matter, for humans, too?”
It was a nightmare. But Janine handled it professionally, pushing her hands forward and trying to get the floor back. “Now now! One at a time! I'll answer all your questions. Yes, you.”
It took a while. In the meantime, James and Holden brought out three more ponies and two full-sized horses. James explained that a pony was any horse of a breed less than fourteen hands tall, with a few exceptions. “So any horse taller than that is a horse?” I asked. He grinned with embarrassment and said that yes, I'd got it.
Eventually, it seemed like the crowd was satisfied, though I sensed a lot of discontentment. Janine tried to sum up, and I admired her—sometimes by refusing to admit that you're out of your depth, you somehow aren't anymore. “Basically, it comes down to this. We don't geld people because they're people! Not only does everyone have the right to make their own reproductive choices, but... well, there are some advantages to stallionish behavior. Some racehorse breeders like stallions because they race with more passion and drive, for example, even if you've got to work to keep them focused. I guess the way I see it... horses, here on Earth, aren't like to do things on their own initiative. You've gotta train 'em. But you folks?” She chuckled and waved a hand. “You do everything.”
That more or less wrapped up the questioning, thankfully. We were left to visit with the horses through the fence for a while. Ponies who wanted to interact further were put in a little queue and had their requests taken one at a time. The Shetland seemed especially in demand, mostly by ponies wanting to pet its mane. And the stallion who wanted to commune with a Terran pony by staring into its eyes got his wish, though I never found out if he was satisfied. As for Peach and George, they were happy enough just to stand at the fence and watch the least popular animal on display—a stalwart appaloosa. Reddish brown in front, spotted brown on white in back. It was a mare, if I'd remembered right, but it's not like I could tell.
“Bit for your thoughts,” offered George.
Peach didn't look away from the horse, which watched her without moving. “I don't get it,” she said.
“Do tell,” said George.
“It's so stupid,” she murmured. Her tone was so reverent that I almost laughed.
“Are you sure about that?” asked George.
“Can't you tell? I'm standing here talking about it, and it's not even trying to figure me out. It's just... standing there. And did you see it walk earlier?”
“Can't say I noticed this one,” George replied.
“It's like it was... just running on instinct,” Peach said. She waved to the appaloosa, which barely moved in response. “Like it didn't even know it was walking, or why. Look at that face. Does that face look like it's thinking? At all?”
George examined the horse's features. I was inclined to agree. “Well, now you know the awful truth,” I said. “Some horses are smart, but some are pretty rock dumb. And even the smartest horses can't hold a candle to you guys.”
“But then how?” asked Peach, her front legs against the fence. “How did you get from them to us?”
“Um...”
George Harrison turned to look at me, like he wanted to know as well.
“I'm not really sure. I guess horses have always been really important to us. Like, they're in a lot of our stories... they shape our language...”
“But they're not like us,” Peach repeated. She gestured over to a New Forest pony Holden was leading around a dirt ring. “I mean, I guess that one's kind of walking like we do, but it seems so... I don't know, mechanical. Rigid! I mean, you heard Janine say how their hips don't bend outward like ours do—they just go up and down, not left and right.” She turned to peer at me. “Hips that go left and right... humans have those, but Terran ponies apparently don't. And they can't bend their pasterns to hold things, either!”
I felt under the gun. “So we anthropomorphized. We gave our... our imaginary creations traits from ourselves, on top of horse traits.”
Peach stared, her mouth open. “We're a hybrid.”
“Only in these good folks' imaginations,” George pointed out.
“I know. But doesn't that chill you? Doesn't that bother you? Or even excite you?” Her hoof went up to her horn, tapping it with a new realization. “That's not all, is it? Where did our horns come from? I know you've got unicorns in your myths, but why do they have horns? Who invented that?”
I fidgeted. “I don't know. The ancient Romans, or Greeks, or something? Probably they have horns because cows and antelopes and other animals do.”
“So there you go,” said Peach. “I've got cow in me.” She inclined her head toward the bulky minotaur, who was tentatively touching one of the Terran ponies on its rump. “Or antelope, or both. And pegasi! I suppose they got their wings from birds?”
I shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, must be.”
She looked at George in disbelief. “How is this not blowing your mind?”
“Peach, love, I've been expanding my mind ever since I left Galloping Gulch. It's not easily blown these days.”
Her eyes went to me. “I want to ride one.”
I gaped. “Uh... why?”
Her foreleg flailed in a way it occurred to me no horse could ever mimic. “They're part of what I am! You humans are a part, and these horses are another big part. Yes, I know that's not the only way to look at things, but it's one way. There's a recipe to make us, George. Take four parts human and four parts Terran horse, add one part cow and one part swan... mix it all up and what do you get?” She tapped herself on the chest. “Pony. That's what. And why are horses important to humans? Because you ride them, right? Well, I want to ride one and find out what all the fuss is about.”
I fidgeted a little more. “I think it's a great idea,” I said.
“I know it's silly, but if I never—” She stopped short. “A great idea?”
“Sure! Let's go ask.”
Peach hurried behind me as I circled the crowd and went up to Janine, who was nervously trying to keep Pyrrha Parnassus from doing anything dangerous to the Australian palomino. “Say, Ms. Markowski?”
She looked up. “Call me Janine, and yes?”
“My friend Peach Spark was hoping she could get a ride today on one of the horses. Is that possible?”
Janine glanced for a moment at Peach, who was taut with energy, her head high. The rancher smiled an odd smile. “You know, we talked for a while about what we'd do if one of the Fimmish ponies wanted to ride. We were thinking we'd just ask our human guests if they'd like to ride, as a demonstration... but I think we can accommodate you, Peach.”
“Great! It doesn't need to be for very long. And I promise to be careful.”
Soon after that, Red Rover called everyone to attention with a shrill whistle. “Heads up! Folks, you all know that humans keep Terran ponies and horses for riding, right? Our friends here at Markowski ranch are going to give us a riding demonstration. Gather up!”
So we watched as Janine, assisted by her son, showed us how a horse is rigged. There were a few troubled questions from the peanut gallery along the way—“You really can't get them to do what you want without all that?” for example.
So Janine explained that horses and their riders had an intimate relationship. Most riding signals were traditionally given with the body itself—through motions of the rider's legs and seat, or occasional touches of their hand. Some riders chose to emphasize verbal commands. “If you're riding properly, the reins and bridle are only a fallback,” Janine said. They can reinforce directions you give through contact, and experienced riders can use them to instruct a horse which foot they want them to move, and where. That can be useful for getting through tight spots, like when there are fallen branches on the path.”
“I heard that humans whip horses,” said a scared yellow mare with a rake for a cutie mark.
“It's true—whips and crops are also used for direction and discipline. You saw some of those in the tack room. They have a bad image—you see them in movies being used to torment horses into going on when they're exhausted—but in reality, they're useful tools for training and for when your mount needs extra direction.” She collected a small crop from Holden for demonstration. “You don't lash your horse—you give them a smart tap, usually behind the leg you want it to move.” We watched her illustrate the maneuver.
There was some wincing, but the group seemed satisfied. So Janine went over to the slender brunette, Meg, and asked whether she'd like to demonstrate how a Terran pony was ridden. She was delighted to, and over the next five minutes we watched her get installed atop the palomino Australian. She'd never ridden before, so we saw her walked through use of a stirrup, saddle posture and so on. Soon, Jamie was guiding her slowly around the ring.
Janine smiled to me. “Would you like to try?”
I'd been worried she might ask. “Go for it, Sergeant,” encouraged George. So I shrugged and climbed over the fence. Janine put me on the stubborn Appaloosa, to my slight chagrin, but I was definitely enjoying the experience. She taught me how to shift my hips and thighs, and then the basics with the reins. Soon I was circling the ring as well, with Holden at my side giving me tips.
Dan was offered a spot on the other horse, a sturdy brown Morgan called Jethro. He declined with a wave of his hand, so Janine turned to Peach. I couldn't see it well from my place in the saddle, but I heard the conversation. “We've had a special request, so we'll do our best to accommodate it. Peach Spark, is it?”
“Yes ma'am!”
“Peach here wants to try riding. Now, there's no established way for a Fimmish pony to ride a Terran one, but given that your species has a flexible anatomy, or so I hear... I feel like it should be possible.” There was a rumble of laughter. “How much do you weigh, Peach Spark?”
“About one twenty.” That sounded right. She had a lightish build for a pony—maybe average for a female unicorn. I'd found it interesting ever since I first read that the weight range for ponies and humans was practically identical. What other animals weigh exactly the same as humans? Some kinds of deer, maybe? Large hyenas?
“That'll work! Daffodil here has a great temperament, and she should be sturdy enough to bear you. We'll just have to keep her happy while we work out the best posture for you. We'll probably have to adjust the stirrups quite a bit!”
“No problem!” said Peach. “Hi, Daffodil! Glad to meet you.”
I swung around the ring and lost track at that point when Holden started giving me directions on how to hold the reins—I'd been pulling back too much, and the appaloosa was resisting. It was actually reassuring somehow to know it had a will of its own. By the time I finished my circuit and dismounted, Peach was in the saddle, hunched forward, with her hind hooves in high stirrups and her forelegs hugging the Shetland's shoulders. Janine was giving Daffodil a handful of raisins to reward her for her patience, and the crowd was watching intently.
“I think I've got it,” said Peach. She raised the reins loosely with her electric blue magic, and I saw Jamie gape in astonishment. Janine replaced the bit and gave the Shetland a pat. “All right—let's take her out!”
She remained at Daffodil's side all the way around the course, even as Peach did her best to direct her mount by adjusting her body. Janine wasn't as confident in instructing her as the ranch hands had been with me or Meg—she had to guess at what motions would be effective. It actually worked really well, though. Peach didn't just have her seat and thighs in contact with the Shetland pony—most of her belly, chest and shoulders were in close contact as well. If anything, Daffodil had too much instruction, but she seemed to learn well, and before long, Peach wasn't even bothering to use the reins. I saw her whisper something to her mount that I couldn't make out. The ponies around me cheered and clomped their hooves in congratulation on the dirt.
Then, just when things felt great, the massive Pyrrha Parnassus piped up. “Pyrrha Parnassus would like to ride!” she declared, stomping a hoof.
I could see how uncomfortable Janine was as she shook her head. “I'm sorry—you're far too big for any of our mounts.”
“It is true, Pyrrha is well-endowed, as any bodyguard should be. But that horse seems brawny enough to bear her weight!” She pointed to Jethro, who was big, sure, but not that muscular. I saw trouble coming.
“There's no way,” said Janine, getting defensive. “He can handle a large man, yes. Not a minotaur. No offense meant, ma'am, but no.”
“You give your steed too little credit. Might we at least try?”
Red Rover was beside her, snorting and swishing his tail. “Pyrrha, you promised not to make trouble.”
The minotaur frowned. “Surely, if humans and ponies alike can ride equine steeds, that honor cannot be denied to the noble minotaur race!”
Jamie intervened. “What about Fergus?” he suggested.
Janine frowned and chewed her lip. “Might I ask how much you weigh, Ms. Parnassus?”
“My weight? A good sixteen tod.”
They set to working out what that was in pounds. After some discussion, Jamie went reluctantly to the stable and led out a massive draft horse, gray with a dark mane, who kept shaking his head at the crowd of ponies. Janine was doubtful, but no one wanted to upset a minotaur who worked even indirectly for the U.N., so she agreed to give it a try. The ponies were mostly content to watch this spectacle. Uncle Clyde remarked that he wouldn't even try to ride a horse these days, but he seemed more amused than concerned.
In the end, the mighty Clydesdale was able to take it, though not without protest. He whinnied in distress, and Janine stroked his head and gave him some carrot chunks. “Just for a little while,” she told him. The minotaur sat in triumph, pressing her knees inward and flexing her arm in the sunlight. “Onward, my worthy steed!”
All the while, Peach was still in the saddle, though she'd halted her own steed so she could watch. I went over so we could watch together. She mussed my hair with her magic, and I fought against it.
“That cow needs to learn what 'no' means,” Peach remarked.
“Yeah, probably. But you have to admit, it's quite a sight.”
“This is amazing,” said Peach. “I'm getting it. I don't get it yet, but I'm getting it.”
“How to ride, you mean?”
“What ponies mean to humans. It's clicking. I don't know how to describe it.”
“You seem good at it.” I smiled and put my face at Daffodil's level. She looked at me.
“You didn't seem half bad on that big dumb one,” complimented Peach.
I shrugged. “I just did what they told me. It'd take a lot of practice to get good at it, though.”
“Thanks for coming, Pepper.”
Somehow, the friendly nickname made me twinge, and I knew what it was. “Peach. Tell me something.”
“Yeah?”
“What does George mean to you? Is he your coltfriend?”
She looked down, uneasy. “I don't know.”
“He called you 'love' earlier.”
“Yeah, he does that. It's the way he talks.”
“You don't think it means anything?”
“I think everything he says means something. But we're not going steady, Pepper. I'm not saying we won't ever. But not yet.”
A knot was growing in me. “Should I be jealous?”
She looked sharply at me, but didn't talk until the urgency had faded. “Maybe. I can't tell a human how to feel.”
“That sounds like a brush-off,” I responded.
“Sorry. I didn't mean it to be. It's just true. I hope you won't be jealous, but maybe you need to be. Maybe that'll help you, somehow.”
I wanted to demand that she level with me, but I was worried it would sound too angry. I didn't want to spoil our beautiful moment. So I stood by her and watched Fergus finish his walk with the proud minotaur on his back. Janine was insisting that was enough, now, and Pyrrha had to get off. Pyrrha was trying to convince her to let her take Fergus for a trot. Red Rover got involved.
I put my hand on Peach's back, and she shivered. “Sorry,” I said.
“Don't be,” she replied. “No, don't be sorry, Pepper. You've given me a great idea.”
That made me nervous, but happy at the same time. Carefully, I helped Peach dismount from the Shetland pony. We returned to the group, where Pyrrha Parnassus was finally back on solid ground, and Jamie was comforting Fergus on the way back to the stable. Nothing seemed to have broken, at least.
“All right,” said Janine. “I think we've had enough time at the paddock. Now I'd like to take you all down to the training ground so I can show you what show riding looks like.”
So we followed the ranchers past a couple more buildings, which we glanced into—storage and machine shop—and to a much larger pasture with short green grass, a couple of hitching posts, and a few items of interest here and there. A few cloth-covered barrels, some low fences, a work cart in the corner. There was a track around the outside, and that's where Janine led the chestnut brown Quarter pony. We gathered around; one stallion asked if he could nibble the grass, and Janine laughed and told him to help himself. He wasn't the only one peckish by this point; even George indulged in a few bites.
Janine explained the basics of dressage—rhythm, relaxation, impulsion—all these different aspects of horse movement that could be commanded by an experienced rider of a well-trained horse. She fielded questions, this time without any issues cropping up, and then shortened the reins and mounted her pony. It was obvious she had a good rapport with Boston; he actually seemed excited to get to work.
“We'll start with the four natural gaits—walk, trot, canter, and gallop.” A slight motion I couldn't quite identify, and Boston was walking. “Let's all go for a walk!” she suggested. The crowd slowly followed. “And this, of course, is the trot—where the opposite, or kittycorner legs move together.” She let her steed demonstrate. “If you'll indulge me, I'd like all my four-legged guests to join us in trotting up the field!” And she waved her hand forward.
It was effective. Two dozen ponies trotted together over the grass, grinning and in some cases nudging each other. It wasn't long before most of them were trotting in tandem—you could play a drum to the beat their hooves made.
Janine reached the far end of the track and took Boston along the fence. “Now we've switched to a canter! Who here knows what a canter is?”
There were a fair number of cheers and raised hooves, but it wasn't everypony.
Janine laughed. “And your capital city is Canterlot! All right, a canter has three parts. First, move one of your hind legs forward. Next, move the front leg on the same side and the other hind leg, both at the same time. Then, the other foreleg! Just repeat those three steps. Give it a try!”
It wasn't easy for everypony to follow her instructions from horseback, but those ponies who didn't get it learned quickly from those who did. They seemed to find it natural, anyway. I stayed on one end of the field with Meg, Dan, Uncle Clyde and Pyrrha Parnassus while the ponies thundered playfully back and forth.
“Now a gallop! I'm sure you all know how to gallop! Just like the canter, but land the other hind leg first! Yeah, that's it! You know what you're doing!”
I marveled at how excited Janine had gotten now that she was riding. She eventually brought Boston to a halt before us and let the ponies settle down.
“So those are the natural gaits!” she summed up, flushed. “I'll tell you, that's one thing we didn't do for our first FiMlander group! It was spur of the moment, but I'm glad we did it!”
There was cheering and clapping, and I joined in.
Janine proceeded to show us the 'pace', where the horse moves its legs on either side together, first the left legs and then the right. The ponies tried this out, and most found it surprisingly difficult to get the hang of, while others took to it easily. Then Janine had Boston perform a piaffe, which amused and challenged the group further. “Basically, it's a trot where you don't move forward or back,” explained Janine, “and you suspend your legs for a little longer in the air.” Peach tried doing it and found herself drifting backward, whereupon George caught her. I heard one pony remarking that she'd heard this was how Derpy liked to dance.
Janine finished up by showing us a couple of dressage movements—the half pass, in which Boston moved evenly to the right as he walked forward, and the pirouette, in which he spun more or less in place around one hind leg. Some of the ponies tried copying these movements unprompted. When it was done, we all applauded, and Janine then pointed out some of the faults she and Boston had made, which she hoped to have corrected in time for his next show in July.
The group was impressed, though I was personally less impressed at the performance itself than at how well it had captivated the equine audience. At this point, Red Rover took over, speaking to us from on top of a fence, his legs twined between the top two slats. I had to admit that was a pose no Terran horse could ever pull off.
“Listen up, friends! You've got two hours, twenty minutes before the bus takes off—break into groups, do what you want to do. Janine's given us permission to walk the trails up through the woods or past this field toward town. Maps are in the ranch house. You want to visit more with the Terran ponies, they'll be available on request. Holden can show you the stables if you want to see how they live. Feel free to use this training ground if you're interested. And yes, the grass is fine for eating anywhere on the ranch. You guys know how good a discount we're getting? All right, any more questions? No? Good. We gather back at the paddock—see you in a couple hours!”
I leaned against a fence and watched as the ponies split off to pursue their own pleasures. Several got together and decided to race around the track—they were off like thunder. Others jaunted off across the meadow or went back to the ranch house. Peach went straight for Janine and followed her back to the stable, and George and I followed Peach.
“Peach Spark, right? Did you have a good ride on Daffodil?”
Peach nodded. “Absolutely. Thanks for making it possible.”
Janine smiled genuinely. “Of course! So, what can I do for you?”
Peach smiled back, a far more determined smile. “I want to be tacked up.”
Janine's smile faded slowly. There was a moment of silence. “I'm sorry?” said the rancher.
“Rig me! Tack me up! I'll pay extra, if it's not covered in my twenty bucks.”
Janine cleared her throat. I glanced at George—his expression was one of fascination, and growing.
“You want me to put a saddle and bridle on you?” asked Janine, unbelieving.
“I want the full Terran pony experience. Whatever you've got. Saddle, bridle, bit, the works.”
Janine paused with her mouth open and looked at me and George, as if we were going to stop her. “Lady knows what she wants,” quipped George.
“I've got fifty dollars,” said Peach. “I can even stay after the tour leaves if I have to.”
“But why?” Janine and I asked at almost the same time. We made eye contact for a moment.
Peach flicked her tail. “These animals, they're part of who I am! I've ridden one, now I'm starting to get what they mean to you. But now I want the rest of the package. Now I want to know what it's like to be one. Go on, rig me up.” She smiled. “I won't bite.”
This made Janine laugh, albeit uncomfortably. “Well, looks like I'm free. Sure. Let me put Boston away, and we can go pick out some tack to fit you.”
Peach grinned hugely. As Janine tended to her Quarter pony, I stared in amazement. “Wow, Peach.”
“I think you're too heavy to ride me,” she said. “Otherwise I'd ask. What do you think—could I hold that girl out there? What's her name, Meg?”
“If you cheat and pump in a bit of juice, I'd say you'd be fine,” suggested George.
“Magic? I don't want to use it, but I guess I'll probably have to. Pepper, could you go find Meg and ask her how much she weighs and if she'd be willing to help a girl out?”
It was quite possibly the weirdest thing anyone had ever asked of me. I nodded numbly and dashed up the path to the ranch house. My mind went over everything Cindy had ever asked me to do in the bedroom—and before her, there'd been Lily, and of course Pat....
Yep, this was the weirdest thing. How about that.
^.^ ^.^ ^.^ ^.^ ^.^ ^.^ ^.^ ^.^
Well, Meg was up for it, and Dan decided he wanted to come along and watch. And even though we tried to be kind of secret about it, by the time Peach was fully outfitted half the group was gathered there, ogling. (Thankfully, the minotaur was nowhere in sight.) I should have felt uncomfortable with so many people seeing my... my kind-of girlfriend trussed up like a bondage slave. And maybe I did, but oddly enough the main emotion I felt was excitement. For Peach's sake, not my own.
“Ah cank oove wy hongue,” said Peach through the bit in her mouth. “Iz this reawy how ish shbos da veel?”
“I'm afraid so,” said Janine. “You could put your tongue over it, but then you won't receive the signals from the reins as well.”
“Dat's vine. How oo I look?”
“I... don't know what to say,” I said. “You look natural, I guess.”
“Good. Neg? Rea'y a ride?”
Meg looked nervous, but as she mounted the comically low stirrup she said quietly, “I just want you to know this is really exciting for me.”
“Thad's cool. I's ishciding for me too!”
Janine helped her sit in place, her feet nearly reaching the ground. A steady blue stream of Peach's magic flowed into Meg, helping to lighten the load. Janine didn't look totally okay with the situation, but I guess after accommodating the minotaur's request earlier, this was relatively gentle. Honestly, Peach looked kind of stunning in all the gear. If it weren't for the bit impeding her speech, I could have imagined her as an action movie star, with a little squinting.
“What now?” Meg asked.
“Dell me t' go vorward,” said Peach before Janine could answer.
“Go forward!” shouted Meg.
“It's 'walk'!” corrected Janine.
“Walk!” said Meg.
Peach walked. She had some trouble with the extra weight at first, but found a decent pace before long.
“Gee!” exclaimed Meg, leaning to the right.
“Whad doez 'zhee' mean?” asked Peach, angling obediently to the right.
“It means, go right!”
“Then why 'ot jus shay sho?”
“Because that's what riders say!” Meg looked to Janine. “Right?”
“Sure, although nowadays it's more common to just say 'right'.”
“Right!” said Meg.
“Are 'ou shaying righd like, you wan' me da durn? Or righd, like, yeah, I know?”
“I'm not actually sure,” said Meg. “Okay, ready to try a trot?”
“I yuess. Ogay, say 'drot'!”
“Trot!”
It was a strange spectacle, horse and rider communicating, and miscommunicating, about what the rider should tell the horse to do. All in all, it probably accomplished about the same level of understanding as real riders do with real horses... but with a lot more noise.
“Have 'ou god a crop?” Peach asked Janine.
Janine was stunned for a moment. “You want a crop?”
Peach nodded, then winced as the bit pushed against her tongue. “I wan' the whole Derran pony exhperienshe.”
“But the crop is only necessary if the horse isn't responding to signals.”
Peach's eyes rolled back. “Den I won'd rezpon' du shingals.”
Janine sighed and hurried off, returning quickly. “Be gentle,” she told Meg. “Like I showed you before... a quick tap at the back of the leg.”
“Walk,” said Meg.
Peach gave her head a tiny shake. “I on'd wanna.”
“I said walk,” Meg repeated, squeezing her knees against Peach's flanks.
“Nope! Veeling lazy,” said Peach.
Meg leaned a little too far and snapped the crop at Peach's thigh. I winced and she winced too, jerking forward and starting to walk. “Aight, aight!” she called. “Awlk id is.”
“Sorry! Did that hurt?” Meg asked, regaining her balance.
“On'y a liddle. Sho whad else do Derran poniez do? Oh, I know! Nake ne rove ny legs, one a'a dime.”
So Janine showed Meg the difference between direct and indirect rein, and how each rein controls two of the steed's legs, but not the two you might think. And Peach's ears swiveled back to take it all in. So Meg then took her time figuring out how to direct Peach's every step, and Peach did her best to comply. Except for once or twice where it looked like she deliberately took a wrong step, and then, lips tight, Meg went for the crop.
More than once, I asked myself: Is there something wrong with me that I'm letting this happen? Should I be doing something? But I told myself to relax. My friend was enjoying herself, as was Meg, and no one was getting hurt. Even Janine seemed to find the whole thing satisfying after a while, though she was trying to conceal it. So I let myself enjoy it, too.
At last, Peach gave a little buck and shook her head. “Thad's enouv. Running oudda mazhic.”
Meg sighed and scratched Peach's mane. “Thanks again,” she murmured as she slipped off.
Peach stopped the flow of magic and turned to Janine. “Ogay, get a harnesh on ne. I wandda bull a cart!”
So a resigned Janine found a harness and cart and hooked Peach up. It struck me that Janine was playing the role of the workhorse here, while the animal in tack was acting like the owner. Peach hauled the cart across the paddock and back, then asked me to load it up. So I did—I put in a bag of buckles and a big bag of nails, and Peach hauled it around the ring. Again she asked for more weight, and I obliged by loading an entire loose fencepost in the cart. Peach could barely haul it now, but she persevered, taking ten minutes to trudge around the ring while several of us watched anxiously. When she finally made it back and slumped to her knees, the onlooking crowd of ponies pounded her out a round of applause. I knelt with relief and started taking off her gear.
“Thad was worf id,” she told me.
“I hope so,” I told her back. But once I'd removed the bit from her mouth, she no longer wanted to speak.
^.^ ^.^ ^.^ ^.^ ^.^ ^.^ ^.^ ^.^
She wasn't mad—she just wanted to reflect. When I said “What a trip!” as we sat waiting on the bus for the last few stragglers, Peach said “Yeah.” And when I scratched her fondly on the neck, she smiled up at me. And I didn't mind so much that George was watching. That's what being tired'll do.
But when we sat later at our table in the Siam Garden in Red Bank (a lovely coastal borough, by the way) and Peach excused herself to use the restroom, George and I sized each other up. He looked evenly at me. I sighed.
“All right,” I said.
“I had a lovely time today,” he replied, not breaking eye contact.
“I know. Me too. It was strange, but it was really good.”
“The really good stuff often is strange.”
“You think so?”
He tilted his head. “Could be just me.”
I sighed again. “Tell me the truth, George. Are you interested in Peach?”
He only missed half a beat. “I am.”
I hesitated. “And you think you'll be better for her than me?”
He blinked, putting a pair of maroon forehooves on the table. “I don't know, Sergeant. That's for her to decide, isn't it?”
I took a long breath. “I guess so. So... what now?”
In answer, he turned and looked toward Peach, returning from the restroom. “Now I suppose we let her decide,” he said.
“What, just like that?”
He smiled grimly at me. “Would you rather let things fester between us? I like you, Sergeant. I'd be happy to hear it if you said you liked me. Shouldn't we work this out and stay friends?”
Peach resumed her spot by the table, seated on a cushioned stool. “Who's staying friends?” she asked.
“All of us,” said George, with a glance at me. “Am I okay to ask, Sergeant?”
I drummed my fingers on the table. “Sure. Fine.” This wasn't how I was used to things being done, but I was the minority here. When you get involved with ponies, you do things the pony way.
“Ask what?” said Peach.
“Well, I can't say if you're aware, but it seems both Sergeant Pepper and I have taken a liking to you, Spark. You're a fantastic filly, so I can't say as it's much surprise.”
Peach was instantly, visibly embarrassed, bringing her hoof up to her mouth. “Um,” she said.
“Didn't mean to embarrass you,” George amended. “Tell you what—if you'd rather, I didn't say a thing.”
She looked between the two of us, blushing. “You like me, like me?”
Wow, she sounded like a schoolgirl. “I was just worried you and George were going out, so...”
“Haven't had any dates alone yet,” he remarked aside.
Peach took a drink of water to compose herself. She used her hooves—she'd pretty much drained herself of magic earlier. “Tell me you two aren't gonna start wrestling or something.”
“Wouldn't dream of it,” said George, glancing at me.
“It's okay,” I said, managing a smile. “We're good.”
We sat in silence for a while. Eventually, Peach burst out: “So, am I gonna have to choose between the two of you, or what? Is that what we're doing?”
“It does seem to be the way of the world,” said George.
I pitched in, “But if you choose George, I'll understand. I'll still be your neighbor. And we can still visit. Without... you know. Anything inappropriate.” I met the stallion's eyes.
“You know I'd trust you, Sergeant.” He shifted to regard Peach. “And should you pick him—well, I can't complain. He knew you first, and he is a fine fellow. I'll still see you at Turtlewood, and such.”
There was something growing on Peach's face—fear, maybe, or annoyance. Or some emotion similar to both but unique to her. “Do I really have to pick now? Can't we just have a meal together?”
“Sure. There's no rush.”
“Course we can, love. Didn't mean any pressure.”
She sat there ruminating for a while. Then she extended a hoof over the table toward each of us. George placed his own unhesitatingly against hers; I took her hoof in my hands. We stayed like that for a while, until the waiter arrived with our food and we released each other in embarrassment.
“Ooh! Is that the Phad Thai Pak?”
“Ought to be. And yours is the green tofu curry?”
“It smells great. You know, Pepper, we don't have tofu in Equestria!” said Peach.
“I didn't know that. I guess you don't need a lot of protein in your diets?”
“I have a confession,” said Peach. “I don't actually know what protein is.” She jabbed a piece of silky tofu in green sauce with her fork. “But I look forward to finding out!”
I'd gotten a mock duck noodle stirfry, since I felt like if my companions were eating vegetarian, I should too. I'd thought I might offer to share with them... but then I wondered if the mere idea of fake duck meat would repel them. So I wound up sticking to my own dish.
“You know what?” said Peach. “I think I ought to start a blog.”
This was so random that I stopped eating and let out a laugh. George seemed equally surprised. “Heard the word, but not quite clear on it. Is that like a public diary?”
“Basically! You know, they're starting to build internet stations in Equestria. Just in the big cities so far, and it's expensive, but maybe if I get popular I could be picked up by the papers! I think ponies could really get something from reading what I have to say.”
I fought to suppress my smile. “I can absolutely believe that. I think it's a great idea. What would you call it?”
“I was just thinking about that on the bus,” she admitted shyly. “What do you think of: 'Peach on Earth'?”
“Peach on Earth, goodwill toward men?” I asked.
“Well, I'd certainly hope so! And women!”
“Sounds like a lovely idea,” said George. “But what sort of things would you put in?”
Peach took a moment to frame her thoughts. “Insights about being a pony. The kind of thing I learned today, from playing both roles, steed and rider. Thoughts on how our world is different from this one, and how it's the same.”
“That sounds just about terrific,” agreed George, popping a forkful of noodles and cucumbers into his mouth.
“I didn't know why I came to Earth,” said Peach. “Maybe I still don't. But if there's no one out there interested in my quest for answers, I'll be very disappointed.”
“I'm interested,” I said.
“Then you can help me get my blog set up!”
“Sure, I'd be glad to.”
“And George? No stranger to travel writing?”
“I've done my share.”
“You can write guest entries. What do you think?”
It was George's turn to blush, though it barely showed through his dark coat. “Entirely at your service.”
“You think it'll be mainly ponies reading your blog?” I asked.
“Do you think humans would care about my thoughts?”
I thought for long enough to finish my last bite. “I feel like, if we don't, we're not doing our job,” I decided. “You left your home and everything you knew to come here and get answers about what connects us. If we don't even care enough to listen...” I shrugged hopelessly.
“You're right. Humans should be reading my blog. We'll make it happen. And guys?”
“Mm?”
Peach sopped up the last of her curry in a chunk of tofu and sucked it down. “About picking one of you as my boyfriend. Is it all right if we just... hang out as friends for awhile? Without dating or anything?”
It didn't take long to find an answer. “Of course.”
“Like I said before, at your service,” said George.
“I just don't want too much on my plate at once.”
“I understand entirely,” George replied. “But speaking of plates, it looks like ours are empty. Either of you fancy a bit of dessert?”
“I wonder if there's anything with peaches here,” I mused, picking up the dessert menu.
“Forget peaches,” said Peach. “I want something with mangoes! I've never tried mango.”
“That's the spirit,” said George. “And following that, what do you two say to a stroll by the sea? I figure we've got an hour left before our bus moves on; that should be enough.”
“It's not the sea, it's the ocean,” I pointed out. “And we'll have to hurry! But I'm up for it.”
“Me too,” said Peach. “Stuff like that is better if you have to work for it.”
Thinking back on how she'd exhausted herself in the paddock, I couldn't help but agree. But if we were going to hurry out, there was one thing I wanted to make sure to do before dessert came.
I slipped through the restaurant, taking pleasure in all the tables full of ponies enjoying Thai food. One silly-looking mare had a huge mass of noodles wrapped around her fork and was gnawing it at from the side, her mouth parted at a ridiculous angle. At another table, Red Rover and Uncle Clyde were having a good-natured but loud conversation, their faces only separated by inches over a communal plate of sticky rice pudding. And at the largest table, Pyrrha Parnassus towered over a massive pile of spring rolls, clutching three more in her hand and holding forth on her vision for the future of Minnow-Equestrian relations.
I arrived at the table where Meg and Dan were eating with their pony friend. I took a moment to get my breath and then slipped up, smiling shyly. “Hey.”
“Hi,” said Meg, apparently surprised to see me. “Peach's friend, right?”
“Yeah. I'm Ron. I just—” I glanced at Dan to see if he was bristling—he wasn't, and I guessed he really was just a work friend. “I wasn't sure I'd see you on the bus, and I just thought you might want to stay in touch. Since—I mean—you and Peach shared such an intimate experience, and all that.”
She sized me up, her lips tight. “Then why isn't she asking?”
I shrugged. “She didn't think of it. It's me asking. But... you seemed so excited to be around ponies. And I know a few, thanks to Peach, so I thought... maybe I could introduce you sometime?”
The tan colt at the table had his eyebrows raised high. I flashed him a smile.
“That's very thoughtful,” said Meg softly. She paused a moment, then rummaged in her purse and handed me a card.
“Sorry, I don't have any,” I said. “But I'll call.”
The smile on her face was small—knowing, maybe—and meant for me. “All right, Ron.”
I nodded back toward my table. “We're gonna try and hit the shore before the bus leaves. So... see you later, and have a good trip back.”
Meg nodded, and Dan raised his hand. “Take care.”
I felt a little bit guilty. I'd gotten Meg's number, and I had to admit it wasn't just so I could introduce her to Seaswell and Kellydell. The fact was, I didn't meet a lot of girls... and if I hadn't gotten her number, I knew I'd probably never see her again. Even if Meg was a little awkward—not that I wasn't awkward myself—she'd stepped up when Peach had needed her. She deserved a chance.
I wasn't going to pursue anything, though—not unless Peach made it clear there wouldn't be anything between us, or I decided there couldn't be. What I had with Peach was special—really special. I didn't know whether I could really have a relationship with a pony, and I didn't know whether she'd choose me or George. But I did know that I was excited. In fact, I felt a lot like I had when I'd been just getting to know Cindy—when I first realized that I just might want to spend the rest of my life with her. That kind of excitement was wonderful. And yes, George made me jealous, but even that jealousy just added to the excitement. I'd take it.
I snaked my way back through the tables, raring for some time with the ocean, my rival, and my would-be girl. And a little mango pudding wouldn't hurt, either.
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Considering how long this latest chapter is, I won't be able to read it til tomorrow probably. But still, I just wanted to say something. Ahem.
Enjoyable, decent pacing and hints of conflict. Awesome
Ok, that's not what I expected from the trip at all. Really, what does Peach expect from that?
Also, Pepper, have none of the books, myths, movies, etc. with horses done nothing better for you?! Thousands of years of Man + Horse = better than either Man or Horse is probably why there's such strong connection.
I suppose they fit each other well then. They can be hilariously befuddled together then.
Though that was a pretty ballsy thing at the end. Did not expect that.
So,in this universe,the humans and ponies haven't team together and created a 'cultural difference' book.If they have,what hasn't pepper bought one to help peach better understand human culture?or ponies in general, to help them recover from culture shock...?
Would have read earlier but was playing ps4. However I should be asleep right now so I can't read till tomorrow.... Or would that be later today since it is 6 am?
eh
This chapter had everything I wanted. The wait was worth it. I just want to pour all the words on a hotel bed and roll around in it like in a bank heist movie.
I keep licking my fingers because this romance is so damned juicy, it's just dripping that romance juice all over the place. Shoulda worn a bib.
Can't wait to see how Peach reacts when she finds out he got that crazy girl's phone number. That's going to really force her hand either way as far as the relationship goes. She's definitely going to get jealous (because maybe she needs to be) but whether that pushes her towards or away from Pepper is going to be interesting. She's the one that said they were going steady, after all. I also get the feeling that crazy girl might have her own love triangle going there with that pony guy, so let's see what's up there.
Plus, Pepper and Peach still have that dinner coming up~
Okay, I'm back, and I've read it.
This was a really, really good chapter. I knew there'd be a lot of potential for idea-exploration with a trip to a ranch, but I'm impressed by just how well you pulled it off. The image of Peach riding a horse and of being ridden by a human is cute as heck, somehow. And I love the idea of her making a blog.
I also think you're handling the more romantic aspects of the story well. I really am rooting for them to get together, I have to say, not only because they have a good rapport, but also it seems like a nice microcosm of the whole worlds-colliding thing. If she got together with George, it would almost seem like a reinforcement of the divide between their worlds and the segregation of their species, even if only at a symbolic level.
OK, read the chapter a loved it. Kinda wish peach chose pepper but love rival war works.
glad it updated, and the pony meeting ponies is really funny and thought provoking to
Don't feel too bad. I'm from Jersey and I didn't know they grew peaches there either.
I do know about the awesome tomatoes, though.
Great. Your story has once again causes me to think how my life would be if I met a pony mare. And again, pepper reacts pretty much the same way I would. I absolutely love how philosophical Peach is and how she continues to put him in awkward position. They'd make a cute couple and they keep learning from each other. I love how your story is so believeable that at times I think that ponies have come to our world and no one told me and this is all your experience. George. Oh George. I really want to zip his mouth closed. The way speaks is just, antagonizing. But anyway, keep writing. And(not trying to rush you) maybe this time we can hear back from this daring duo a little bit sooner? Anyway. Good job, and you still hold a high rating in my book. I'd say about, 8.7/10
Really enjoyed this chapter, the length really added to it. I'm really interested in how all this turns out and I can't decide who to root for in this battle for Peach's love.
I finally added a Romance tag to the story! When I began, I didn't know if it would head in that direction, but there's no denying it now.
I invoke the right of the hundredth comment! You must sing and dance or your story shall forever rot! You must dance! Dance! Dance! Daaaaaaaaaaaance! Your story and soul are mine, all mine!
Well I have claimed the hundredth comment thanks to your blog. A silly thing to do I might add.
Lol!!
Okay, Willsons. I will dance for you! I'm about to post Chapter 9 tomorrow, but you get to decide on one ingredient that will go into Chapter 10! You can even give me a line of dialogue if you like, although I won't promise to use it exactly as is...
Wow, I don't know why Peach decided to go with a bit. I doubt she liked it, even if she did enjoy giving Meg a ride.
4665550 this story hit close to home since I'm a jersey native (I live really close to hoboken). I love the relationship between pepper and peach, I like peach as a character overall she's well written and very likable.
Wow, this is the first chapter I am commenting on. I just want to say you have an amazing story on your hands here. I have read many HiE and I have read a few where ponies come to our world. I have to say tha most of the PiEarth stories just don't do it for me. If I can reference Ron, we read fantasy to escape or see things we can't in our own world. I usually find earth just too familiar of a backdrop to find the story interesting. However, this story has such a tight and interesting focus I am able to really sink my teeth into it. Kudos!
Make a blog for Peach.
I R SRSLY. I wanna talk to your imaginary character. Again, I want to see how she interacts with people with viewpoints that differ from what she's used to dealing with.
This chapter made me wonder if Mongolian equestrianism would have impressed the ponies...
Pretty impressive (and large) chapter here! Was genuinely interesting to see the Equestrian take on Earth horses. Usually it's just played for laughs, but this actually seemed pretty believable.
The way Peach sees the world continues to be adorable, if a bit odd. I'm not sure I could actually see myself riding feral humans in another dimension, for example.
6366263 would you ride a giant monkey?
Kinky.
It's funny, our perception of George was that he was just looking for milk. Maybe not so much after all? Hmmm...
What units is Peach's weight given in? 20 kilograms doesn't make sense and 20 pounds doesn't either.
8666695
120 pounds or roughly 55 kilograms
Hmm, I could be wrong, but I'm guessing that "Pyrrha Parnassus" translates to something like "fire temple" or "temple flame" possibly? I recognise one from its similarity to "pyrrhic", and I remembered the other part is also the name of a Greek mountain that had something to do with a temple maybe?
I... was not expecting that at all. Peach's drive for understanding is fascinating.