Tales of the Oppressed

by Terran34

5. Mind of a Troubled Human (rw)

I’m already awake by the time the dawn arrives, the curtain of night ever so slowly fading to pink. Still sitting beneath the bridge, I hug my sides tightly, shivering violently in the cold. Despite the shelter afforded to me by the bridge, the temperature dropped dramatically during the night.

I can’t remember a time when I’ve slept as poorly as I did this night. Uncomfortable, cold, and hungry, sleep did not come easily to me at all. Even when I did manage to drift away, it would only be for a short time before I would awaken again, miserable from the poor weather conditions.

There’s no way around it. Vinyl was right; I’m lucky that it isn’t winter yet, or I would have definitely frozen to death. Even now, it isn’t hard to tell that staying outside was not the best of ideas. My skin is covered in goosebumps, my whole body aches, and I can’t stop shivering. A quick glance at my phone tells me that it’s only about seven in the morning. By my previous college standards, this is way too early for me to wake up. However, with the way I’m feeling right now, it could be four in the morning for all I care. I need to move.

I grab my rifle and struggle to rise. My body protests against every slight motion as I force myself out from beneath the bridge. I stumble a bit in the process, nearly tumbling into the river. I curse beneath my breath once I recover. It’s hard to move properly, my body feels heavy and every movement I make feels sluggish and weak.

Warmth is the first thing to come to my mind once I manage to get to my feet. I need to find someplace to warm up. I must be suffering from hypothermia; I’ve never been out in the cold for this long without heavy winter clothing. Somehow I have to find a way to make enough money today to find a motel or the pony equivalent to sleep in. If I can’t come up with anything, I may die, as it can only get colder.

Come to think of it, it’s odd that winter hasn’t already arrived. I disappeared from my era in February, which is considered to be late winter. I suppose I can’t expect that spell to have been so convenient as to drop me in the exact same month and day in this era. If it’s close to winter, but not quite there yet, I’d hazard a guess and say that it’s around late November.

I hobble towards the square miserably, rubbing my chilled skin vigorously in an attempt to get the blood flowing. I need to find someplace warm, fast. If I can get back to Twilight, who owns a public library, it may be warm inside. If ponies have the technology to operate refrigerators, heating and air conditioning shouldn’t be too much of a stretch.

The town is quiet, but the streets are gradually filling with ponies. They emerge from their houses, showing differing degrees of fatigue from their no doubt restful night’s sleep. Some wear small saddlebags filled with various objects, some wear a sparse covering of clothing, and many carry nothing at all. The few pegasi I see take to the skies not long after emerging from their homes, riding the breeze like birds.

My presence causes similar reactions to what I received the previous night, yet considering some of them have seen me before, the overall reaction is somewhat tempered. I’m walking slowly along the left end of the street with my arms hugging my sides, so I doubt I cut a very threatening figure. Despite this, my appearance turns several heads.

I’m also starting to pick out the differences between stallions and mares. The stallions tend to be larger, with thicker hooves, pronounced muscles, and more angular snouts. Comparatively, the mares are smaller, with slender hooves and rounded snouts. If I’m getting this right, that means there’s a disproportionately large number of mares in comparison to stallions. The fact that every pony I’ve interacted with so far has been a mare only serves to reinforce that theory.

I’m so focused on the path forward that I forget to look down. I suddenly feel a warm furry mass bump into my lower chest, followed by a surprised snuffle. “Oof!” the mare that ran into me yelps and steps back, giving me a clear look at her. “Seth? You’re still in town?”

I stare back at Flitter, the pegasus mare looking at me with surprise and worry. Her words take a while to process; all I can think about is how warm her fur felt against my frigid skin, like a living blanket. I shiver, shaking that thought from my mind. It’s hard to think when I’m this cold.

“Despite my best efforts, yes,” I reply, stuttering somewhat due to the chattering of my teeth. The fingers clasped around the haft of my rifle are turning slightly blue due to the extremely cold metal.

My sorry state doesn’t go unnoticed by Flitter. She lets out a soft gasp, her face filling with worry. “Are you alright? You’re shaking,” she observes, pressing a hoof against my arm. I quickly move so she’s no longer in contact with me, but it’s too late. Her worry turns to horror after feeling my arm. “Your skin is so cold! We should get you inside, fast!”

Flitter walks behind me and presses the top of her head against my rear, as if to push me towards the house she emerged from. I immediately plant my feet and press a hand against her head, preventing her from pushing me any further. She squeaks as I firmly push her away.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I demand, causing Flitter to flinch, her ears flattening. “I’m not going into your house, if that’s what you’re trying to do.”

“But it’s not healthy for you to be that cold! You look like you’ve been outside all night! I could brew you up some hot tea and get you some blankets to warm you up,” Flitter attempts to reason with me. Her seemingly generous offer only causes me to get suspicious of her.

“No thank you. I’m heading someplace warm already, so I don’t need to rely on your good will,” I tell her plainly, doing my best to keep from sounding sarcastic. I have nothing further to say, so I walk past her.

“Why won’t you let me help you?” Flitter keeps pace with me, much to my annoyance.

“That’s not your business. I’ll thank you not to pry any further.” My patience is wearing thin, but I manage to reign in my temper. It likely wouldn’t be good for me if I am seen yelling at the same pony who previously introduced me to town.

“Seth, there’s a heavy storm coming tonight,” Flitter warns me anxiously, though her pace does slow enough for me to regain my lead. “If you stay outside again...”

I glance up at the sky, feeling somewhat worried. However, the sky is entirely devoid of any cloud formations, such that all that’s stretched out before me is a pinkish orange expanse of empty morning sky.

“How can you tell?” I question her, pausing a moment. If there is a storm, I’ll die of the cold for sure. If she’s right… then finding a way to afford a place to stay tonight is even more urgent than before. “There’s not a single cloud in the sky.”

“Well, no, not yet,” Flitter responds. What she’s next completely wrecks any understanding that I had of this conversation. “We on the Ponyville Weather Team haven’t actually put it together yet. But our captain will make sure it’s ready on time.”

“What?” is my bewildered response. Just that simple answer raised a multitude of questions in my mind. By “it” is she referring to the actual storm? The way she said that implies that this “weather team” is going to physically make the storm. That’s ludicrous, so I can only assume she’s referring to a weather forecast. I didn’t realize ponies were capable of predicting the weather, but even that’s more of a sensible conclusion than my previous thought. “You’re talking about the weather forecast, right?”

“Huh? Yes, that’s right. I was saying a heavy downpour is scheduled for today, so it won’t be safe for you to stay outside again,” Flitter looks equally confused by my reaction, but she recovers quickly and attempts to explain again. She looks as though she wants to know why I was outside so late, but thankfully she chooses not to ask. “I have to go to work soon, but I want to at least get you a coat.”

Flitter puts on a determined expression. “Yes, stay right there, Seth. I’ll be right back,” she declares. Before I can argue with her, she zips back inside of the building that I can only assume is her home.

I gaze after her for a moment, and then I turn on my heel and continue on my way, quickening my pace somewhat in order to get out of sight before she returns. As much as a coat would likely save my life in the event I had to sleep outside again, I won’t accept it from her. If I’m going to survive, it’ll be on my own merit. I won’t be indebted to others.

My thoughts drift ahead to the gig with Vinyl tonight. I’m not sure how much she gets paid at these “Pinkie Parties,” and that leaves my own income in question. Without a concrete number to work with, I won’t be able to tell if I can afford a room or not. Perhaps staking everything on that one gig wouldn’t be the best idea. I should try to find another source of employment. I can’t kill Sombra if I’m dead.

Vinyl mentioned that a pony named Applejack was looking for help on “the farm.” Judging from my own observation, the apple orchard and its surrounding fields is the only thing that fits the description of a farm, although I wasn’t able to see any structures over the trees. As I near the library, my stomach churns, devoid of any sustenance. It’s not just shelter I have to worry about. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungry before. After I finish dealing with Twilight, I’ll pay the orchard a visit. Hopefully if I can work there, I’ll earn enough to buy a room and feed myself.

At last, I reach the front of the library once more. I notice a sign hanging to the front of the door that wasn’t there yesterday, but I can’t read what it says. Perhaps a little more hastily than would be dignified, I wrench open the door and bolt inside. I let out a sigh of relief as the warm air rushes over my skin. I shut the door behind me, blocking out the cold air.

I blink in surprise. The front room of the library is no longer as organized as it was yesterday. Countless books have been pulled from the shelves and are scattered about the room. Perhaps scattered is a poor choice of word; the books are organized into neat stacks, but their placement appears to be random. The central table is covered in them as well. It’s as though half the library is now on the floor.

The stacks of books appear to be most concentrated in the back of the room closest to the stairs. As I step closer, I spot Twilight in the center of them, laying on her side with her head resting against one of the shelves in an undignified fashion. I’m about to call out to her, but then I realize that she’s fast asleep.

Her chest every so slightly expands and contracts in time with her soft and steady breathing. The fur on one corner of her mouth is slightly damp, and there’s a book lying open on her chest, clutched tightly in her forelegs. Every so often, one of her back hooves will twitch.

I quirk a brow in a mixture of confusion and amusement. She looks rather pathetic in this pose. I’ll also grudgingly admit that what I’m seeing is somewhat cute. I mean that in the way that a pet owner would after seeing their associated pet fall asleep after playing too much. Twilight owes that to the fact that she’s a furry expressive pony; I’d have never thought something like that about a human.

I set my rifle down on the table. While she’s asleep, I take a moment to stretch out my body and warm myself up through a series of exercises, though I make sure not to stretch my side overmuch. I can’t tell where the heat is coming from, but I’m thankful for the newfound comfort.

In the process, I notice that my bandages feel uncomfortably tight. I’m also feeling no real pain from anywhere other than my side. Curious, I walk into the kitchen and search around until I locate a trash can.The wounds on my shoulders were the least life threatening, so I take a risk and unravel the bandages encircling them.

The revealed injuries are surprisingly stable. Despite the fact that it’s only been a few days since I received them, the cuts on my shoulder are now only present in the form of hardened scabs. I trace my finger over one, noting its firmness. I have to hand it to Zecora; whatever she used, it kick started the healing process unlike anything I’ve ever seen.

Once I dispose of the now useless bandages, I continue to unwrap the rest of my upper body, encouraged by the lack of bleeding. The gashes in my chest and arms are all scabbed over as well. Even my side appears to be stable, although it continues to pain me with even the slightest strain.

Eager to be freed from them, I discard the rest of the bandages into the trash. It feels strange to be walking around in a public establishment without a shirt, but I don’t have any other options. Additionally, I haven’t noticed any other ponies wearing clothes at all. That’s... a rather strange cultural transition to be sure. I suppose I can’t reasonably expect them to have the same societal standards and traditions as us. I find myself envious of their warm fur. If I had that, sleeping outside wouldn’t be a problem.

I return to the front room and advance towards Twilight. The unicorn shows no signs of stirring, despite the fact that I make no attempts at stealth. I don’t have the time to waste waiting for her to wake up. I pick up a book from the table and unceremoniously drop it from shoulder height onto her flank.

Twilight jerks awake with a start, her forehooves flailing and knocking over some of the stacks of books nearby. “Waah! What’s going on? Where am I? Spiiike!” she exclaims wildly.

Twilight squirms around, scattering several of the books, before she manages to sit up straight. Then, she notices me leaning against the table with my arms crossed impatiently. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but then she glances around at the mess she’d made, and with it came a look of panic.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Seth! Wait just a minute, I’ll have all this cleaned up in a second!” Twilight apologizes, and then she zips around the room, using her telekinesis to lift the fallen books and organize them back onto the shelves a few at a time.

“You really don’t need to…” I start to say, but my eyes can hardly follow her as she zooms past me, a gust of displaced air blowing my hair back. Books fill the shelves in an orderly fashion as she works, soon leaving the floor free of clutter. “I’m not the kind of person who…”

Twilight rushes past me once more and then instantaneously returns with a brush and dustpan clutched in her magical grip. She immediately sets to work on the table and floor where she had been sleeping, clearing away any dust that may have fallen from the displaced books.

“There’s really no point…” Eventually, it comes to my attention that Twilight isn’t listening to me at all. “Oh for the… would you slow down!?”

Twilight finally skids to a stop in front of me, though I’m not sure whether it’s because I raised my voice or because she’s already finished. Minus the stacks of books, everything looks the same as it did before.

“I’m finished! I’m sorry again about the mess, I didn’t realize I was going to be having company so early,” Twilight responds as if she’d never even heard my protests.

“Apparently you didn’t hear me when I said it didn’t matter. I could care less how messy the place is,” I return with a shrug, paying no mind to her apology. “Why were you sleeping on the floor like that anyway?”

“I… uh…” Twilight flushes with embarrassment, one hoof shuffling against the wooden floor nervously.

“She stayed up until four in the morning researching that king you asked about,” a boyish voice answers for her. I glance up to see Spike sluggishly plodding down the stairs, looking as though he’d just awoken from a deep sleep.

“I didn’t even realize how late it was… or that I fell asleep. I’m so embarrassed,” Twilight dips her head, laughing nervously. She then looks to me for an answer, but when she just sees me staring her, she starts to look awkward. “A-Anyway, it’s good to see you again. Spike, could you start breakfast?”

“Yeah, I can do that. I’ll make some coffee too so I don’t pass out,” Spike answers, yawning widely. Just as he was about to enter the kitchen, he pauses and glances back. “Wait, breakfast? You remember I can only make biscuits, right?”

“That’s fine with me. I’m not looking for something fancy,” Twilight affirms. With that, Spike nods and leaves the room, and it isn’t long before I hear the clattering of plates and cups. Twilight turns back to me. “Are biscuits alright for you?”

“Why are you asking me?” Her question fills me with a sinking suspicion; one that’s confirmed by her subsequent answer.

“So I can share some with you, of course. I would be a bad host if I were to eat my breakfast in front of you without offering any,” Twilight replies with a smile.

“Eat your breakfast; I don’t care. I don’t need food anyway.” I immediately turn her down, unwilling to give her even that much. Unfortunately, my treacherous stomach chooses that exact moment to betray me, emitting a mortifyingly loud gurgle. Twilight’s bemusement soon turns to amusement as I mentally direct every single curse word in my vocabulary towards my hunger, which had not been satisfied in a full day. I slowly sigh. “You did not just hear that.”

“I’m afraid I did!” Twilight giggles at my resulting groan. “Don’t be shy, come on and have one or two. They’re easy to make and easy to replace.”

Considering how hard Twilight tried to argue with me about my beliefs during my previous visit, attempting to argue with her would no doubt earn another irritating inquiry from her. However, I won’t just let this go, either.

“I can’t say I’ve had biscuits for breakfast before. Usually I had toast, or eggs if I was at home,” I reply as I follow her into the kitchen, slyly letting slip something about my home life. As expected, Twilight’s ears perk, and she turns her head to gaze back at me with interest. I then realize what I said and hastily add, “Er… the fact that we eat eggs isn’t weird to a pony like you, is it?”

“Oh no, that’s something in common between us,” Twilight answers. I raise an eyebrow as she ducks around a corner for a moment and returns with the same notepad and quill with which she had been taking notes yesterday. “I suppose it stands to reason that eggs would have been part of the human diet as well, considering their propensity for… for meat.”

I can’t miss the cringe that crosses Twilight’s face as she forces that last word out. I make a mental note to keep my previous diet to myself from now on. Twilight seems able to handle that fact, but I doubt I can say the same for the common pony.

Taking my seat at the table, I wait patiently for breakfast to be served. Spike is standing by the oven, peering through the glass to make sure the biscuits aren’t being burnt. It’s odd to watch, as it’s nearly identical to how a human would do it. The only difference is the gently glowing orb set into the top of the oven that powers the appliance.

“I can tell you about typical human breakfasts if you want,” I offer to her. If she takes my offer, then any debt I may incur from eating this meal will be erased. Twilight, who just sat down across from me, brightens up at that, but then she lowers her eyes to my chest.

“I’d love to hear that, but first I have to ask…” Twilight sounds a little anxious as she continues. “Are you alright? You’re covered in scrapes...and one of them looks like it was rather serious.”

“I’m fine. It would be best if you didn’t worry about me,” I advise her with a level voice. With any luck, I won’t be in her life for long. “More importantly, did you only realize I was hurt just now?”

“No, I noticed you were wearing bandages yesterday, but it didn’t seem like you were in pain, so I didn’t ask. I thought maybe it may have been a human custom,” Twilight explains with a sheepish expression. “But those look like they were bad. How did that happen?”

“Through a combination of pitfalls and horrible luck,” I summarize briefly for her. I don’t feel the need to share what I went through while I was trapped underground. “Stop worrying about it. As you can see, I’m fine.”

“I’m sure they hurt when you move, though,” Twilight points out sympathetically. Her eyes widen, as if she’d just thought of something important. “I know! I have a healing spell I’ve been wanting to try. I can use it on you if you’d like.”

Although my immediate thought is to refuse her, the concept of a healing spell is intriguing. “A healing spell? If such a spell exists, does that mean ponies don’t need hospitals or medical centers?” I question, curious despite the fact that I know I shouldn’t be asking any more questions than necessary.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Twilight admits with a frown. “Here, let me explain. The healing spell I’m talking about is the only one of its kind, and it’s near impossible for a normal unicorn to master… or even learn. It requires a significant mana expenditure as well as a working knowledge of the biological make-up of the circulovasucalar system. You wouldn’t want to close a wound and clog an artery in the process.”

As Twilight is explaining, I hear the oven chime behind her. Spike opens the appliance and retrieves the tray of biscuits, grabbing the metal with his bare claws. Despite how foolhardy it would be for me to do something like that, Spike doesn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable from the heat. I suppose it has to do with his rather… unique species.

“It’s a surprisingly limited spell as well, as it is only capable of healing physical injuries such as the ones you bear. Thus, standard healthcare relies upon clever use of telekinesis to perform tasks such as resetting broken bones and halting blood loss,” Twilight continues. Spike joins us at the table with the tray of tea and biscuits, which Twilight then distributes evenly to each of us. I hesitantly bite into one, finding it fluffy and pleasing to the taste.

“So, you say that normal unicorns can’t learn this spell easily. Who else has learned this spell, and what makes you different from other unicorns?” I question further, my suspicions heightened after hearing her explanation.

“She’s only the best in all of Equestria!” Spike brags, joining the conversation before Twilight can give a proper answer. I just ignore him, but Twilight flushes.

“Spike! I am not the best; there are plenty of unicorns with more knowledge and experience than myself,” Twilight corrects him swiftly, though the dragon doesn’t look convinced. She returns her attention to me, looking apologetic. “I have an affinity with magic, so my pool of mana is much larger than normal and it’s easier for me to learn complicated spells than the standard unicorn. As for the healing spell itself, I’m not that good at it. I only know of two that have mastered it: Princess Celestia and Princess Luna.”

I’ve heard more than enough. “So let me get this straight: there’s a spell that can heal better than even the latest healthcare practices, and the only ones who know it are royalty. Not to mention, you clearly don’t advertise the fact that you can use it - there would be a line that spanned the whole town outside your door if that were the case - and you’re willing to use it on a total stranger, free of charge?”

“That’s right. Why, is something the matter?” Twilight tilts her head to one side in confusion.

“How stupid do you think I am? If such a spell is so rare and difficult to master, that makes unicorns who can use it extremely valuable. You could demand anything in return from any of your patients… and your patient in this case would be a human whose knowledge could very easily make you rich,” I point out, my voice completely devoid of amusement or patience.

Twilight sighs, disappointed. “I wish you wouldn’t keep saying that. You make it sound like I’m just trying to use you, and I’m not,” she astutely observes. “It’s just that I’ve been working on this spell, and I’d love to test it out. Besides, it’s just something I’d do for any of my friends.”

“Then find one of your friends to test it out on,” I tell her coldly. My words make it very clear to her that I don’t consider her a friend. As such, Twilight recoils, looking hurt. “I decline your offer. These scrapes aren’t nearly so bad that they require the use of a spell like that.”

“I… suppose you’re right,” Twilight concedes, lowering her head dejectedly. I notice that Spike is glaring at me now; it’s likely he also picked up on the hidden meaning in my previous statement and is not happy about it. “I’m sorry, I was just excited to try out a new spell.”

I don’t respond, instead taking a moment to eat the remainder of my biscuits. The meal is good, but it hardly does much to assuage the hunger gnawing away at me. At least it’ll provide a boost I can use to get through the rest of today until I get paid by Vinyl and hopefully by a second prospective employer.

Spike quickly grows uncomfortable from the awkward silence between the three of us. “So… Seth, you were going to talk about human breakfasts, right?” he reminds me.

“Well, I should rephrase. I can tell you about my breakfast, which can’t really be used to summarize the entirety of human breakfasts,” I correct myself.

“What do you mean by that?” This is enough to get Twilight looking curious and hopeful again, her notepad already lying open on the table in front of her.

“What humans eat for breakfast depends on where they live as well as their culture. I only lived in one small province of a larger country, and traditions vary all over the place. I know little about the breakfasts of other provinces, and even less about those of other countries,” I explain to the fascinated librarian, who is already scribbling down notes, her quill scratching against the parchment. “Even then, they can vary among individual families. So if you want accurate info, all I can tell you about is what I ate.”

“That’s a start! You’ve already given me more than enough to write an entry on human culture!” Twilight proclaims encouraging. I nod with approval. That means I don’t have to tell her much more in order to fulfil my debt for this meal. “Anything you can tell me, no matter how simple, is worthwhile!”

“Alright. Then I can tell you that I personally don’t like going to too much effort to eat in the morning, due to my limited time and schedule. Because of that, I prefer simple foods that don’t require much preparation…” I begin. Once the conversation begins, Spike settles down, seeming much more content to sit back, eat his biscuits, and listen now that Twilight and I aren’t arguing anymore.

Resigning myself to the necessity, I force myself to converse with her in a level tone. In the process, I find that many of what people in my area considered to be normal breakfast foods are unfamiliar to ponies. This doesn’t surprise me; I’d be more concerned if ponies knew what poptarts or bacon were.

Twilight encourages me to share everything, despite the fact that my breakfast sometimes included meat. She is certainly uncomfortable with the idea, but it seems that accuracy is more important to her than comfort. Thus, I ended up sharing how bacon was considered a delicacy by those around my age.

“Eep… I’ll be sure not to tell Applejack about that. There are pigs that live on her farm, and she’s rather fond of them,” Twilight reacts, writing down my words. That name is familiar; Applejack is the pony I’m going to see after this. Keeping my previous diet quiet is already a priority, but now it goes double for whenever I meet this Applejack.

Once I finish my explanation, Twilight nods, looking satisfied. “Let me make sure I’m understanding you properly: you had to wake up early and leave not long afterwards, so you grew a liking for foods that were quick and didn’t require preparation on your part. This habit even carried over to your days away from school.”

“That’s right. Food preparation is frustrating and time-consuming, so I stay at home and eat something simple. Unless…” I pause, almost letting slip about the few exceptions that arose. There were times when I’d go out to eat, but it would only ever be with Amaryllis or my family, and Twilight doesn’t need to hear about them. I readjust my statement to keep Twilight from getting suspicious. “Unless I had nothing simple. Then I’d have to make it myself, and resolve to immediately resupply during my next outing.”

“Oh? Were you good at cooking?” Twilight thankfully doesn’t catch on to the real reason for my sudden pause.

“Not in the least. It stresses me out, and more often than not the instructions are vague so I’m expected to ‘feel out’ the process… and that never ends well,” I respond.

Twilight giggles. “I can imagine. So it’s clear you wouldn’t have a cutie mark in cooking.”

“Cutie mark?” I echo before I can stop myself, confused at the familiar term. I then realize that I just said the word “cutie,” making me want to gag. As sensible as I’ve been trying to be, that word feels repulsive as it tumbles over my lips.

Twilight looks surprised for only a moment. “Oh, I suppose it stands to reason humans don’t have them, considering you were quite adamant that humans didn’t possess magic of any kind. I’ll be happy to explain!” she expresses genuinely. Twilight angles her flank towards me, showing off the mark there. It’s of a magenta six pointed star backed by a similar white star that’s been rotated, as well as surrounded by five smaller white stars. “Every young pony gains a cutie mark that signifies his or her special talent. This is my cutie mark! It signifies my special affinity with magic that I mentioned earlier.”

“So what, is it permanently dyed on your flank like that?” I question, bemused at such an outlandish difference in culture.

“Dye? No, no, if it was dye, it would eventually disappear as our fur grew and our coats were trimmed,” Twilight corrects me. “They appear by magical manifestation as a reflection of our unique internal mana composition!”

“Magic. Of course,” I answer her with a nod, though sarcasm practically drips from my tone. I was hoping to hear something that would make sense. Nevertheless, I can’t help but feel somewhat envious. I still don’t know what my “special talent” would be, though I suppose I’m grateful I don’t get a tattoo on my lower hip. “That must make things easier for you. Humans have to find that out on their own.”

“Really? That must be very difficult,” Twilight gasps, once more scribbling down my revelation in her notepad. Hopefully me giving her that information is of equal value to her explanation on cutie marks. “Getting a cutie mark is hard enough as it is.”

“Well, what do you know? Humans have something in common with dragons!” Spike chimes back in, looking at me with a grin. “We don’t get those either.”

“I should hope not. Your special talent is breathing fire,” I retort wryly. A silence falls between us as I finish the cup of tea that was provided along with the meal, and Twilight finishes writing down the rest of what she’s learned from our conversation. I wonder if it would be within my rights to demand royalties from her if and when she decides to publish this information. I’m not certain how pony copyright law works.

“Oh, I wanted to tell you what I found during my studies last night!” Twilight suddenly remembers, brightening up. I try not to show it, but my interest has been piqued as well.

“You can certainly talk about it. Whether or not I listen is up to me though,” I tell her with a shrug. Twilight puts on a stubborn pout. “Don’t look at me like that. You did this for yourself, remember?”

“I do remember, but every scholar’s greatest joy is to be able to share their knowledge with another, and you just happen to be right here in front of me.” Twilight returns deviously, a small smile forming on her lips. “How convenient for you, don’t you think?”

“Not exactly the word I’d use, but whatever, I guess,” I sigh, slouching somewhat. Sitting like this without anything to brace my back against is getting tiring. Twilight notices this and stands up from the table.

“Why don’t you head over to the front room and rest on a cushion? I just need a minute to clean the dishes and I’ll come join you,” Twilight offers. I stand as well, liking the idea of resting against that table.

“I can handle the dishes,” Spike interjects, surprising Twilight. “What? No seriously, I got this. You spent all night researching that king, so you just worry about that.”

“Aw, thanks Spike.” Twilight lowers herself down to nuzzle the little dragon’s nose. Spike flushes a bit and chuckles bashfully, and then he dashes off to the sink to take care of the remains of our meal. “Then, shall we relocate, Seth?”

I wordlessly accompany Twilight into the front room. After the warm meal and the tea, my body feels much better. I’m not shivering violently anymore, and the chattering of my teeth has ceased. My skin appears to have regained its color, though my hands still feel a little clammy.

Twilight’s horn glows briefly. From one of the alcoves carved into the wall above the bookshelves, two cushions fly down to the floor, clutched firmly in her magenta aura. She nudges one of them towards me with a smile.

Attempting to avoid aggravating my side, I gingerly kneel down and move the offered cushion close to the table in the center. Then, I sit down, resting my back against the lip of the table. It’s not optimal, but I would feel uncomfortable if I started making myself at home in a public establishment… that also seems to double as her house. I’m not entirely sure how to view this place.

Twilight orients her cushion to be about two feet across from me, and then she sits down on her haunches. She doesn’t waste any time in getting started. “First, I’ll preface my explanation by stating that I haven’t found anything concrete on King Sombra at all,” she admits right off of the bat. When she notices my incredulous and displeased expression, she frowns. “It wasn’t for lack of trying, I assure you. I closed the library yesterday and went through over half of my store of books, starting from those that were most likely to hold relevant information and moving on to more obscure texts when early results bore no fruit.”

Twilight shows me a series of books, lifting them up telekinetically from the shelves and setting them aside in a neat stack once she’s certain that I’ve seen them. I decide to keep quiet about the fact that she’d literally just cleaned the library an hour ago.... as well as the fact that I can’t read their language.

“First, I read through Important Ponies of Ages Past, but I found nothing, surprisingly enough. Then I searched through Dynasties of the Old World, Before the Princesses, and then even A Succinct History of Equis,” Twilight relates, showing me books that I assume are the ones to which she’s referring. She continues on to list more books, such that I lose focus and tone her out… at least until she moves on to her own assumptions. “So far, I’m running on the idea that King Sombra is a pony. As you said, he used a spell of some sort, so he must be a unicorn. Dragons can also weave spells to an extent, though I’ve never heard of a dragon wearing attire like what you’ve described.”

“Let’s hope he’s not a dragon,” I comment drily. I would be very hardpressed to kill him if that was the case.

“That being said, however, I cannot find a single mention of him. I find this odd, because if he is a pony, we should definitely have some information on him somewhere in the history books. In fact, I’m finding that there are specific areas of Equis that I can’t find any information on, and that’s not normal,” Twilight continues. She’s beginning to look fervent and excited; I guess she’s really enjoying the challenge. “Specifically, I can’t find anything about the Frozen North apart from the precinct of Yakyakistan.”

I’m just not going to comment on that name. “So how does that pertain to King Sombra?” I question to get her back on the right track.

“I’m thinking he may be tied to one of these ‘history whiteouts,’ if he truly is from our era as you claim,” Twilight hypothesizes. I let out an exhale of disbelief. If that’s true, and pony society is covering up his existence, then perhaps I’ve stumbled onto something far larger in scope than I ever expected. “Most likely seems to be the Frozen North, as I’ve at least seen cursory mentions of the other suspect areas.”

“That’s a start, I suppose,” I determine, allowing myself to feel a small manner of satisfaction. It doesn’t seem as though Twilight is willing to stop researching this or telling me her results, so I can use this information. If her further research turns up nothing, I’ll head to the north once I’ve saved up enough money to buy thicker clothes and rations. With luck, I’ll find out something more about Sombra from the ponies up north.

“Of course, this is all purely conjecture. If you give me some more time, I can search through the rest of my library and see what else I can find out. I may find something on the Frozen North that completely invalidates my previous statements,” Twilight proposes. “If not, I’ll send a letter to Princess Celestia asking permission to get into the royal archives. Oh, this is so exciting! This is why I enjoy research so much!”

After saying that, she clenches her teeth together and smiles such that she produces a strange noise, almost like someone had squeezed a dog toy, only somewhat less obnoxious. I’m going to assume that’s a strange pony way of showing great excitement or happiness.

“You don’t need to ask me to give you more time. You’re doing this for your own sake, so you have all the time in the world,” I remind her stubbornly.

“My point is that you should come by again! I’d love to be able to share what else I find!” Twilight emphasizes, ignoring my pointed words. When I start to feel somewhat reluctant, she leans forward, her smile growing even wider. “Please, I insist!”

I can’t help but press myself against the table in an attempt to put some distance between us. I can’t understand why she’s so fired up about this. I get that she’s a scholar and likes learning, as that much was obvious upon meeting her. Despite this, no matter what she says, she’s still trying to help me, and I don’t understand why; we’ve already established that she can gain nothing from me in return. Is learning really so important to her that it’s better than any reward? I have no answer; I guess I just don’t understand this pony.

“I’ll come by sometime tomorrow,” I answer uncomfortably. I get to my feet, as it feels as though my time here is over. I make sure to grab my rifle in the process. “I have a lot to do today, so I don’t have time tonight.”

“Alright! I’ll mark it in my schedule then.” Twilight lifts a wide orderly sheaf of paper from the table behind me with her magic and proceeds to scribble something down on it. I can make out a grid on the paper, so it’s likely a calendar. “You found something to do in the town today?”

“More or less. What manner of business that is, however, is my own,” I point out to her clearly. I’m worried that Twilight will start getting too friendly if I keep visiting her like this, and I can’t have her holding me back in any way if I do leave Ponyville to go north.

Twilight nods understandingly. “I won’t pry if you’d rather me not,” she assures me as I make my way towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, okay?”

I nod wordlessly and step back outside into the chilly air. I inadvertently shiver, still remembering how frozen I was this morning. Thankfully it seems to be warmer now by several degrees, thanks to the sun’s rays shining down over the tops of the buildings. As I walk through the now much busier streets, the sun warms my skin to the point where I feel comfortable.

Although my presence in the town is still an oddity for the ponies who live here, it seems as though their interest in me is waning, as I only get curious stares this time around. Perhaps the word of my appearance is spreading. come to think of it, a seemingly popular musician announced the name of my kind to a large crowd at her performance. Therefore, it’s no surprise that ponies are learning what I am. I’m not sure how fast news of my presence will spread to other settlements, but either way I shouldn’t stay in this town any longer than is absolutely necessary.

Sticking to the sunlight, I make my way through the town. My next order of business is to find Applejack’s farm. Using what I remember from my overhead view by the forest as well as my own wanderings last night, I make my way to the northwestern part of town. The amount of ponies walking through the streets thins as I approach the apple orchard, suggesting that the farm is on the outskirts of town. I wince; this is going to be a rather lengthy walk.

As I step onto a small wooden bridge that crosses over a tributary of the main river, my rifle drags against the planks. I pause and glance down at the mangled weapon in bemusement. I’ve been carrying this around with me ever since I left the school in the hopes that I could use it as a bludgeoning weapon, but now I seem to be past that point. I honestly have no use for it now.

I might as well discard it. I step to the edge of the bridge and lift the rifle over the edge. If I drop it into the stream here, it’ll eventually rust to nothing. Even if a pony finds it, it’s too far gone to ever be repaired or reverse engineered, especially if the ponies haven’t developed gunpowder yet.

When I try to loosen my grip, I find that I can’t. It would be so easy to release it and watch it fall into the stream, but… I can’t bring myself to do so. The thought of continuing further without my rifle makes me feel a rising sense of anxiety and panic, though I can’t seem to come to any logical reason as to why I feel that way. Instead, the only thing that comes to my mind is… I don’t want to let go.

I withdraw the rifle back to my side, and the feelings subside. I’m utterly bewildered as to why I would feel that way so suddenly, but without a reasonable explanation, I set that aside. If it’s going to be such a big deal, I’d rather keep the rifle here with me. If only so I won’t be so defenseless in case something happens.

Once I’m across the bridge, the town gives way to a grassy plain stretching before me, complete with a dirt road upon which I tread. I can see the entrance to the farm in the far distance, but it seems like it’ll be a good ten minute walk. There’s no point in wasting time, so I get started, moving forward at a normal walking pace. Farmwork is very labor intensive, so should I get this second job, I’ll need all the stamina I can get. I just hope I can do it, what with all these injuries I still bear.

The closer I get to the farm, the more trees start to encroach along the edges of the path. It’s a rather enjoyable walk now that it’s warmer and nature is coming to life. All things considered, Ponyville is a pleasant enough town, if I ignore the fact that it’s inhabited solely by colorful ponies. The architecture is nice to look at, and the town blends seamlessly with the nature around it. Therefore, the area feels as though the town is living harmoniously with nature, rather than shoving it aside to make way for urbanization. Obviously I can’t generalize about humanity’s building habits, but I do know that nature came secondary to the expansion of the college that I once attended.

Some time later, as I near the farm, I become aware that I’m no longer alone. At first I start to feel a little uneasy, as though I’m being watched. However, I eventually hear the soft beating of wings in the air above and behind me. It’s likely that, assuming it's a pegasi that’s following me, he or she has some business with the farm. I don’t doubt that the place gets some traffic, given how important it must be to the town.

I step to the side to let the pony pass me by, pretending to lean down and check my shoes. Despite my previous assumption, the beating wings don’t pass overhead, but instead stay in place. My suspicions rising, I get back up and continue walking. Sure enough, the hidden pegasus follows.

I halt in place, coming to the only possible conclusion; this pegasus’s business must be with me. “That’s enough. If you have something to say to me, come down here and say it. I don’t have time for whatever it is you’re doing,” I address the hidden pegasus, my tone heavily laden with annoyance.

“Well, excuse me for not knowing how to approach a human!” an equally annoyed female voice returns, sarcasm present in her tone. Her voice is rough and scratchy, with the timbre of a youthful alto.

I believe this is the first time I’ve heard a pony act as sarcastic as I can be. Curious, I turn to see the most brightly colored pegasus I’ve ever seen soaring down to the ground, her hooves kicking up the dirt as she skids to a halt.

At first I have to squint, as this pony is so colorful that it briefly hurts my eyes to look at her. The most normal aspect to her design is that her coat is a light shade of cerulean. Her mane, on the other hand, is an unkempt mess that flops untidily over her brow and around one side of her neck. It’s colored all six colors of the rainbow, each one somehow separated from the others to the point where each color forms its own distinct stripe. The red, orange, and yellow stripes rest on her brow, and the green, blue, and violet stripes are what wraps around her neck. Her tail is all six colors.

To top off her unusual appearance, her cutie mark is of a thunder cloud from which a tricolor lightning bolt protrudes. Twilight said each cutie mark is supposed to signify the special talent of each individual pony, but I can’t even fathom a guess as to what this one could mean.
“It’s good that you know what I am. Yet still, I can think of at least five other ways to approach someone than by following them,” I point out to her. The pony is obviously female, given from her voice and smaller frame… though one abnormality about her is that her muscles are very clearly defined. “As far as I can tell, we haven’t met. Why are you following me?”

“Two things. First of all, you’re a human. Just for that I wanted to see what you looked like,” the mare responds as though her words should be self-explanatory.

“That doesn’t make sense. How did you know I am a human if you don’t know what we look like?” I question her, even though I’m sure I know the answer. She could have heard about me from Vinyl’s fans, Lyra, or Twilight. Nevertheless, I’d like to know for certain.

“Have you looked at yourself? How many other creatures walk around on two legs?” the mare points out with a grin. I frown; this pony is starting to rub me the wrong way. Instead of just answering me plainly, she’s treating me like I’m stupid. “Plus, I read the books. Though you look nothing like I expected. Your mane’s all boring, and you don’t look strong at all.”

A firm sense of dislike for her makes its home in my mind. Everything she’s saying comes across as condescending, and that’s one of the quickest ways to make me angry.

“No doubt anyone’s mane looks boring to you,” I grunt, gritting my teeth with animosity. “I trust your curiosity has been satisfied. What’s the second reason you sought me out?”

The mare approaches me, her grin fading away. “I heard about you from Flitter. She said you ditched her early in the morning before she left for work,” she accuses me. “What’s up with that?”

“I hardly think that’s your business,” I state, crossing my arms. The mare huffs in frustration. She looks like she’s about to insist, so I attempt to redirect the conversation. “Should you really be confronting total strangers off of hearsay? Who are you, anyway?”

“Me? The name’s Rainbow Dash: captain of the Ponyville Weather Team and the fastest flier in Equestria!” the mare seems very happy to introduce herself, her grin returning as she presses a hoof to her chest proudly.

I stare at her mutely for a few moment. Everything this pony says just causes me to dislike her further. In addition to her overall condescending tone, she’s revealed that she has an inflated ego… another trait that I dislike in a person.

“I see… the fastest,” I repeat disbelievingly. At the very least, I should introduce myself in turn. “I’m Seth Rogers.”

“That’s right, Seth, I’m the fastest! There’s not a single pony out there that can match me… unless you count the Wonderbolts, but they’re special,” Rainbow continues to brag, spreading her wings as if to show them off. When she notices my less than interested look, her grin widens. “What, you don’t believe me?”

“I honestly don’t care,” I tell her flatly, my patience at its end. Captain of the weather team or not, I see no benefit to continuing this conversation. She needs to know that I’m not someone she can just lead around by the nose. “Whether or not you’re the fastest really doesn’t matter to me.”

Rainbow looks as though I physically struck her. The grin falls from her face immediately and her eyes widen almost imperceptibly. People, or ponies in this case, who have overinflated egos are best deterred when their accomplishments are ignored. In this way, I hope to give her the idea that her boasts are both unwanted and a waste of my time.

Her head droops and her posture becomes noticeably less lively than before. It seems I was right, and I really hit her where it hurts. Any guilt that surfaces in me from seeing this is quickly quashed by my mental assertions that any distractions from my goal cannot be tolerated.

“You’re really kind of a jerk,” Rainbow returns, giving me a bitter stare. “No wonder you gave Flitter such a hard time.”

“If you must know, my interactions with her were, as far as I’m concerned, a means to exchange information. Any further actions on her part were both unwarranted and unnecessary,” I explain with a heavy sigh. “She really has no reason to complain.”

“What are you talking about? Of course she does! She wanted to help you, and you threw her attempts back in her face!” Rainbow snaps back disbelievingly, her eyes flashing as she leaps to the defense of the pony who I’m assuming is a friend of hers. “Not to mention you were rude about it!”

“I wasn’t rude; I was firm. I never asked for her help, and despite my earlier efforts to get her to stop trying, she insisted. A firm approach was the only thing that would work with her,” I correct Rainbow’s assumption. No doubt she’s leaping to conclusions.

“Oh yeah? You call just ditching her without a word a ‘firm approach?’ She was just trying to be friendly!” Rainbow shoots back fervently. “Though clearly you don’t know the meaning of the word! I even tried to introduce myself and you wouldn’t even let me!”

My first reaction is to sigh once more. Unlike the other ponies I’ve met, this one doesn’t seem to be the kind that’ll back down with my usual approach. I don’t enjoy doing this, but I’m going to have to be entirely honest with her about where she stands with me. I look Rainbow directly in the eyes.

“I’ll be straight with you. So far, every pony I’ve met has been far too intrusive and prying in their attempts to ‘be friendly,’ and then they all get offended when I refuse. Frankly, I’m quite tired of it. I have no intentions on making friends with any of you, and clearly that concept seems to be foreign with all of you,” My tone gets harder and sharper with every word I say to her. “I’m here to conduct research and gear up for a task, and once I’m finished, you’ll never see me again. All you’re doing now is wasting everyone’s time.”

Rainbow is rendered speechless for a few moments after I finish my statement, though it’s clear that won’t last very long. She grits her teeth roughly and narrows her eyes at me.

“Graaagh! You are the rudest, nastiest, and meanest creature I think I’ve ever met!” Rainbow rages, her front forehooves squeezing at the air. She spreads her wings and leaps into the air in a hover. “With an attitude like that, I don’t even want to be friends with you! In fact, I don’t think even Pinkie would want to be friends with you!”

Rainbow gets right up in my face, causing me to involuntarily take a step back. “You know what? I’m going to tell Flitter she’s better off without you, and then I’m going to tell Pinkie not to even bother! Hurry up and get out of Ponyville already, and then I hope you have fun being alone all the time!” After she finishes her tirade, Rainbow zips away in the other direction with a blinding speed, to the point where I can barely track her with my eyes. In fact, the only evidence that she was here to begin with is the fading rainbow trail left by her swift exit.

I stare after her for a few moments, feeling somewhat pensive. Come to think of it, she’s the only pony so far that has yelled back at me like that. In fact, that’s the first time somebody has yelled back at me in general in quite some time. I think the last person to do so was Amaryllis… though obviously there’s no comparison between the two.

After making sure that Rainbow’s outburst didn’t disturb anyone who might have been nearby, I continue on my way to the farm. That was a rather unwelcome distraction, but hopefully I’ve resolved both the Rainbow and the Flitter issues in the process. I don’t mind if Rainbow goes around telling everyone to hate me; I’ve already achieved that for which I came to Ponyville. All that’s left is to gather the materials for the trip, which with luck, will only take me between a few days to a week.

Once I near the farm, the trees on either side of me give way to a large open clearing, bordered by a white wooden fence. The entrance to the farm itself is a white archway wreathed in leaves and apples. However, the most noticeable feature is the sizeable barnhouse situated atop a small hill in the center of the clearing. The building is roughly rectangular and constructed entirely out of wood and plaster that has been painted a vibrant red and white. To better clarify the design, the main barn has two floors as well as a spire that supports an apple-themed weathervane. Lastly, there is a separate wing adjoined to the left side of the barn.

Casting my gaze around reveals that the farm expands across a great deal of land. It soon becomes apparent that while the apple trees behind the barn are greatly numerous, it is far from the only crop that’s being cultivated. To my left, stalks of corn sprout from the neatly tilled fields, and further back I notice rows of carrots planted on a hill, atop of which is a small two floored building that looks to be storage for the harvested crops.

On my right as I walk inside is a fenced in chicken coop. Twilight told me that ponies eat eggs like us, so it isn’t that strange to see it here. There’s also a line of smaller red shacks lining the fence on the far side of the clearing. I can’t quite make out their purpose, but I do notice bales of hay stacked up alongside them.

There are some ponies working the corn and carrot fields in the distance, but I don’t see any ponies in my general area just yet. Unwilling to stand and wait around to be noticed, I walk through the white archway and look around the area. The one I need to speak with is called Applejack, if I remember correctly.

As I get closer to the barn, I hear a loud hammering coming from the near the orchard fence. Drawn to the sound, I make my way around the side of the barn until I reach the rear, where I find the source.

There’s a small, pale yellow pony standing by the fence, a hammer clenched tightly in its mouth. Unlike Twilight or Rainbow, she possesses no horn or wings. Beside it is a bucket filled with nails, with which the pony is using to repair some minor damage in the wooden construction. With its forehoof, the pony would somehow manage to lift and position a nail on the fence and then swing its head repeatedly until the nail is firmly embedded in the wood.

This pony, whom I assume is a mare judging from the pink bow fastened to the back of its ruby colored mane, is much smaller than the ponies I’ve seen so far. In addition, unlike every other pony I’ve seen, there is a distinct lack of a cutie mark on her flank. Twilight mentioned that all ponies receive them to signify their special talent. Does this mean this pony doesn’t have a special talent, or that she hasn’t found it yet?

Either way, the mare appears much younger than other ponies, which makes the word “filly” more applicable in this case. This means I’m looking at the pony equivalent of a child. I mentally resign myself to dealing with her; I’m not too fond of children in any regard.

The hammer slips in the filly’s mouth and she ends up hitting her own hoof instead, rather than the nail. “Yowch!” she squeaks in a youthful voice, dropping the nail and the hammer in the process. “Aw, where’d that darn nail go…?”

The filly happens to turn around and spot me just as I’m beginning my approach. She freezes instantly, her eyes turning wide. A sinking feeling comes over me, but before I can say anything to assuage the fear she’s likely feeling, the filly emits a screech of terror and leaps over the back fence, sprinting into the apple orchard without regard to the tools she left behind.

“Stupid,” I berate myself, planting my face in my hand. I should have given the filly some warning before approaching her. Of course these farmers would have no idea what I am. Considering they live all the way out here away from the main town, I doubt the news of my arrival in town would have reached them yet. Plus, I doubt any of them are educated enough to know what a human would look like.

I turn on one heel as I hear a door slam open behind me. No doubt summoned by the scream of the filly, a large stallion emerges from the back of the barn. This has to be the largest pony I’ve ever seen; he easily reaches up to my shoulders. Deep red fur covers his heavily muscled body, and a messy orange mane hangs from his neck. For a cutie mark, there’s a cross section of a McIntosh apple. Like the filly, he doesn’t have a horn or wings.

My first thought is to raise my hands disarmingly, to show this pony that I’m not a threat. With a pony this size and with muscles like that, a single kick from his back legs could easily crush my rib cage. To my surprise, the stallion’s look of alarm fades the moment he sees me.

“Thought you might have been a timberwolf,” he explains simply, his voice a deep bass. He closes the door behind him with a nudge of a hoof, and then he approaches me. I’ve never heard that word before, so I raise an eyebrow. The stallion seems to understand, and he indicates towards the right with his head. “Wooden wolves. They live in the Everfree.”

I swear I feel my chest twinge painfully from his explanation. Now I have a name for those wireframe wolves that nearly put an end to me. I follow the stallion’s head until I catch sight of the sprawling twisted trees in the far distance. That’s the forest I came from; I didn’t realize the farm was so close to it. Now I have a name for it as well: the Everfree Forest.

“I’ve run into them once… as you can likely see,” I respond, grateful that at least this pony seems to be sensible. The stallion notes my chest injuries and nods understandingly. “You’re probably still wondering what I am though.”

“Nope,” the stallion answers with a simple shake of his head. “I know what you are.”

“That’s refreshing, if unexpected,” I comment. I guess I stand corrected about my earlier statement. This farmer appears to be more educated than I originally gave him credit for. It gets quiet as the stallion just gazes at me wordlessly, so I change the topic. “That makes this easier. You work here?”

“Yup. Family owns the farm.” he answers tersely. The more he talks, the more apparent his rustic accent becomes. He politely extends a hoof to me. “ My name is Big MacIntosh.”

I glance at the hoof briefly, and then I accept the shake just as politely. If he’s part of the family that runs the place, it behooves me to be as polite as possible, just as I acted with Vinyl the previous night. I decide to cut to the chase. “I’m Seth Rogers. I’m new to Equestria, so I came here looking for a job.”

Big MacIntosh’s expression shifts almost imperceptibly. He looks at me different, and starts to look me over, as though sizing me up. He gives an unsure hum after a few moments.

“You sure you can handle it?” the stallion questions. He indicates my injuries with a hoof. “You’re injured.”

“They’re healing quickly, and don’t restrict my movement that much. I don’t believe they’ll be an insurmountable obstacle.” It’s difficult to tell what this stallion is thinking, so all I can do is attempt to ease any worries he might have.

Big MacIntosh ponders for a moment before nodding. “Okay. I think we can use you,” he decides. I have to stifle a sigh of relief upon hearing that. Perhaps I won’t be doomed to freeze tonight after all. However, as satisfying as that is to hear, I was led to believe this Applejack was in charge. I won’t complain if this pony has the authority to hire me as well, but I hope that doesn’t pose an issue if and when Applejack finds out.

“Wait here,” he directs me, and then he retreats back into the barn momentarily. When he returns, it’s with a wheelbarrow tied to a brown harness around his neck. Inside are various farm tools. Some of them I recognize, such as weed clippers and filled, covered water pails, while with others I am unfamiliar. Wordlessly, Big MacIntosh begins walking towards the corn fields.

I assume the rather quiet stallion intends for me to follow, so I keep pace with him. Eventually, he comes to a halt by the first corn field and upends the wheelbarrow with a quick flick of a hoof, emptying the tools on the dirt in a neat pile.

“Snow’s coming, and there’s a lot to be harvested,” Big MacIntosh explains as he ambles towards the cornfield. I realize that he likely wants help harvesting all of that corn. There does look to be too much for one pony to handle on his own in a reasonable amount of time. “Ever worked with corn before?”

“Can’t say that I have,” I admit honestly. One fact I omit is that I’ve never worked a full day’s worth of physical labor. I’m sure this job is going to be brutal, but I don’t have much of a choice.

“Watch me,” Big MacIntosh directs. As I watch, he nears an ear of corn and grasps it firmly in his mouth. He yanks downward, and angles his head so that the ear is twisted and wrenched free from the stalk. Then, he places the ear into the wheelbarrow. “You try.”

I set my rifle in the pile with the other tools. Then, I walk up beside him and replicate the same motions he used, only with my hands. It’s not to hard to separate the ears from the stalks; in fact, I think my hands make it easier for me than it is for him. Whether or not I’m right can’t be determined though, as the only acknowledgment Big MacIntosh gives is an approving nod. Together, the two of us start to work down the first line of corn, slowly filling the wheelbarrow as we go.

We’re only working for a few minutes before the yellow filly from before returns with a second, older mare in tow. This new one, like the others, is just a normal pony with a vibrant orange coat and a hay colored mane and tail, both of which are tied at the ends with lengths of red twine. Her cutie mark is unsurprisingly apple themed, consisting of three red apples.

To top off her appearance, she wears a brown stetson hat on her head, the article tilted back somewhat to keep from obscuring her vision. Lastly, her face is freckled by spots of lighter fur.

Her stance becomes aggressive as the two of them spot me, but when they get close enough to see what we’re doing, she and the filly both pause, unsure what to make of us.

“Apple Bloom, ain’t this the monster you mentioned?” the mare questions the filly, her voice a rich alto tinted with a very distinct accent, similar to the one Big MacIntosh possesses.

“That’s it! It came from around the barn!” the filly squeaks in the high pitched tone of a young girl barely entering adolescence.

The mare looks unconvinced, her stance relaxing. “Don’t look so monstrous to me. Plus, it’s helping Big Mac,” she reasons to the younger filly. She then raises her voice. “Big Mac! You got a moment?”

Big MacIntosh glances over at me. “Take a break,” he tells me, even though we had barely even begun. Though I suppose this encounter was unavoidable. Together, he and I leave the wheelbarrow where it is and approach the two ponies. Upon our arrival, the filly, Apple Bloom, hides behind the older mare.

“This fellow came looking for a job,” is all Big MacIntosh gives in the way of explanation, and then he gives me a nod. In other words, he wants me to speak for myself. I suppose that’s fair.

“Did he now?” the mare seems both surprised and pleased by that. She glances up to me and makes an apologetic face. “Well now. Sorry about the rude welcome, by the way. Apple Bloom didn’t mean no harm; you just ain’t like anything we’ve seen before.”

“So I’m beginning to understand,” I respond. My words are wry, but my tone is even. Before I can say anything else, the mare snatches my hand from my side with her hoof and shakes it enthusiastically. Her grip is surprisingly tight and her strength is apparent, as after the first few moments of shaking my arm starts to ache.

“I’m Applejack, and my family runs the farm, though I reckon Big Mac already told you that,” she introduces herself happily. I nod, recognizing the name with some relief. It appears my earlier worries were groundless. “It’s a pleasure making your acquaintance, sir. Welcome to Sweet Apple Acres! Always nice to see a new face!”

“Thank you. My name is Seth Rogers,” I respond, somewhat uncomfortable from her sheer enthusiasm. I’m not used to receiving this kind of greeting from anyone, so I’m not entirely sure how to respond to her. “I’ve heard about you from the other ponies in town.”

“Only good things, I hope,” Applejack chuckles good-naturedly, releasing my hand at last and setting her hoof on the ground once more. She then gives the filly a little nudge. “This little one is my sis, Apple Bloom.”

“I’m not that little!” Apple Bloom protests, causing her sister to pat her on the head, much to her chagrin.

“Seems like you’ve already met Big Mac here. You got my thanks for helping out with the harvest,” Applejack remarks, dipping her head out of gratitude. She gives me a friendly smile. “You were looking for a job? What drove you here? No offense, but you don’t look all that fit.”

“None taken. A physical career wasn’t exactly my primary focus,” I accidentally let slip in an attempt to keep up my polite facade. I was so focused on reining myself in that I unwittingly left her a hook that will no doubt pique her curiosity. Sure enough, her head is tilting. “I’m here because I’m new in Equestria and I need a way to make money. I heard you were looking for help because of the upcoming winter.”

“You heard right. There’s so much to do this time of year, and we’re pressed for time. We can usually manage, but by then we’re plum tuckered out.” Applejack admits. “New to Equestria, huh? You come from down south?”

“It’s a bit of a long story.” I struggle to keep the annoyance out of my voice at her increasingly prying questions. “Suffice to say, I’m not here by choice.”

“Ooh, sorry to hear that,” Applejack responds with a troubled frown. She does her best to give me a reassuring expression. “I think we can help you out. Big Mac, you mind if I borrow Mr. Rogers from you?”

“Nope.” Big MacIntosh dips his head and returns to the cornfield alone, as if he had been expecting such an outcome.

“Good. Alright, first, Apple Bloom, could you get back to work on that fence?” Applejack directs her sister. “Then when you’re finished, go back and help Granny Smith back at the barn. There’re some chores around there that still need doing.”

“Alright, sis!” Apple Bloom acknowledges with a smile. Before leaving to do as she was told, she gives me an apologetic frown. “Sorry for screaming at you, Mr. Rogers.”

I give her a terse nod, but I don’t say anything else. However, It’s enough to make her smile briefly before running back to the fence. Now I’m left alone with Applejack. The mare motions towards the apple trees in the distance and then walks in that direction. I take a moment to grab my rifle from the pile of tools, and then I fall into step beside her.

“I have to say, it’s right convenient you showed up when you did, Mr. Rogers,” Applejack expresses happily as she leads me past the fence and into the orchard. “I was just mentioning to Granny how we were running out of time before the first snows.”

“You can just call me Seth,” I inform her, getting tired of being referred to so formally. It feels strange to be called that, after being referred to just by my first name for most of my life.

“Works for me. Seth’s easier to say anyhow,” Applejack comments with a smile. She weaves to our right through the trees until we come to one particular tree next to which is a wooden cart half filled with wooden baskets. Many of these baskets are filled to the brim with luscious red and green apples, while others are empty. Several of the empty baskets are arranged in an oddly specific manner around the tree. “You any good at apple bucking?”

“I… can’t say I’ve ever heard the term,” I confess, watching Applejack trot over towards the tree.

“That’s okay, I’ll show you. Stay back a moment,” Applejack directs me. I obediently stand over by the cart, resting my back against the stationary vehicle. Once she notes that I’m out of the way, Applejack turns her back to the tree and gives it a powerful kick with her back two legs.

To my utter shock, the entire tree shakes from the impact with such force that each and every apple in the tree is dislodged, falling to the ground like rain. I can’t help but stare in awe. Such a feat would require a great deal of strength; strength that one wouldn’t think such a small pony could possess, but here it seems as though it doesn’t take much effort on Applejack’s part at all.

The apples fall into the placed baskets with precision, with only one or two apples falling on the ground. It’s almost as if Applejack knew where the apples would fall beforehand and used that knowledge to determine where the baskets should go. However, each tree is different, so this makes it seem as though she knows her trees to the point where she can determine where each apple will fall. Not only is Applejack deceptively strong, but she’s a lot smarter than I initially gave her credit for.

“That’s what apple bucking is. You think you can do that?” Applejack questions, walking up to me. She’s not even breathing harder after that unreal show of strength.

I immediately shake my head. “That’s just not possible. I’m nowhere near that strong. My legs would break if I tried,” I admit. Applejack nods, taking another look at my legs muscles.

“I thought so. Like I said earlier, you ain’t got much muscle,” Applejack observes. She smiles and presses a hoof to my leg in an attempt to reassure me. “No big deal. I still know a way you can help.”

“I can help you lift those baskets onto the cart,” I offer, indicating the filled apple baskets by the tree.

“That’s just what I was thinking,” Applejack agrees, nodding approvingly. “This’ll go faster if I have you doing the lifting and placing for me while I buck the trees. We’ll toughen you up in no time!”

“Sounds like fun.” As much as I’ve been trying to rein myself in, I can’t help but say something sarcastic. Thankfully, Applejack takes it in stride, giving a chuckle.

“Come on, let’s get started. We’ve got a lot of apple bucking to get done before the day’s done. Get ready to feel that burn, Seth!” Applejack asserts, rearing up and kicking her front hooves out of excitement.

I heave a sigh and move to pick up the first of the baskets. I can’t complain too much; I did ask for this. Either way, this is going to be the longest day I’ve ever had.

Author's Note:

This one was a pain to rewrite, but eventually I was able to get through it. It helps that I write in a place that's very conducive to a productive mindset.

Several changes were made in this one, which I won't cover here for the sake of new readers. The full change list can be found in the corresponding blog post. I want to thank everyone who commented on the original chapter 5 for helping me create this new and improved version.

Speaking of new readers, anything beyond this point will likely be of poorer quality, as rewriting of the first arc is still currently in progress.

Thanks again to Brave-Hooves and ScootalooFTW for editing! As always don't forget to leave me a comment and tell me what you thought of the chapter!

Comments

[Daps]

Nice. This chapter flows a lot smoother now. Well, as smoothly as can be with Seth anyway...

[Sylif Daring Doo]

I know what you mean, as a fellow writer I went through the rewriting thing myself, it's annoying.

Great work by the way, it's SO much better than the original.

[Srey]

Here it is! Chapter 5!
It's been years but I still remember THIS is the chapter I first gave up on the story.
Eventually I somehow came across it again, and, spurred by the positive comments of the readers who had, it seemed, stuck till the very end, decided to give this another try. Somehow I did manage to last and it became one of my favorites, despite its rough beginning.
Hurray for Asshole Main Char— I mean Seth!

Really though, I do love the rework. Seth is still an asshole no doubt about that, but he's given up on striving to be the avatar of cynical edginess and now aims to simply be a believable human with a troubled past. He's had troubles, he's learned what's most certainly the wrong lessons from it, but that part just makes him interesting.

I think my favorite part since he started interacting was this:

I can’t help but press myself against the table in an attempt to put some distance between us. I can’t understand why she’s so fired up about this. I get that she’s a scholar and likes learning, as that much was obvious upon meeting her. Despite this, no matter what she says, she’s still trying to help me, and I don’t understand why; we’ve already established that she can gain nothing from me in return. Is learning really so important to her that it’s better than any reward? I have no answer; I guess I just don’t understand this pony.

His cynical side couldn't come with a proper cynical reason for this, causing him to feel uncomfortable. He's been trying, and mostly succeeding on labeling everypony he met by his skewed world view, giving him some aspects to this new world he could make sense of. And this one aspect completely challenged it, refusing to fit in any category he wanted.
Don't get me wrong, it's not that I believe it's the right thing to as he simply ran away from what made him uncomfortable instead of challenging it head on and eventually improving himself. It's that this is exactly what most people do when presented with a situation that contradicts their upbringing.
To me, this is the part where I had no doubt left about Seth being a normal human being rather than another edgy protagonist.

So yeah, congrats again on your rework, it's on a different level now.

[EverfreeSparkle]

I find it kind of hilarious that Seth, the moron he is, thinks it a good idea to antagonize EVERPONY he meets -- in a small town, no less. A. Small. Town. This means familiarity; everypony will know each other. How is he going to accomplish anything when he makes an enemy out of the entire town?

Hmm, I wonder how long it'll be until I lose the urge to throttle the prick every time he opens his mouth or ponders a thought...

[Emperor of Jurai]

On the scale of one to -DERP- this guy is right up there with the likes of Patrick Star. Not for just the moronic failure that is his ability to function as a person.

But his goal is to kill Sombra. Kay that fine he is very well within his right to want to do that, hell I'd be hard pressed to find a person who wouldn't want that or at least to fuck the guy's shit up a good amount if put in Seth's shoes.

The sheer stupidity part kicks in here...from what I can gather Sombra completely obliterated the ENTIRE HUMAN RACE which included a LOT of military vehicles and I am sure a few nukes were used as well if possible during that war. Hell the guy didn't even need a century to wipe us out despite all that. So riddle me this...how in the flying FUCK did this idiot figure he could kill Sombra as he is now? That is...I can't even grasp how stupid one has to be, even a kid would figure that someone who could beat up world's worth of people is not gonna be bothered by one more person going at him.

[FoxWithAMask]

8534106
It's more than possible that he's blinded by grief and/or doesn't care if he dies fighting Sombra.

[kotor511]

“You can just call me Seth,” I inform her, getting tired of being referred to so formally. It feels strange to be called that, after being referred to just by my first name for most of my life.

He was on first name bases with somebody in his life? Anybody?

Somehow, I highly doubt that, considering his 'polite facade', even in front of his employer. The fact that he is much to easy to aggravate and annoy, to the point where he hardly controls his voice or tone reflecting those emotions, would have made it impossible for him to get along with anyone for any extended amount of time, especially when it's about getting a job.

On that matter, I highly doubt he would even have made it as far in school if he can't except authority or get's riled up that easily for "someone prying into his business" or criticizing him in general.

As I previously stated, he turns more and more 'unreal' and increasingly stupid with every second statement.

[Phantom_Eclipse]

I like this story and it seems like a good read...but why does Seth have to be such a cringy character? I mean like I get being suspicious and maybe stubborn and not wanting help but this takes the cake to a whole new level. Could you imagine dealing with someone like this?

“Hey Seth you want a beer?”
“NO! You’re just trying to get money from me!”
“Uhhhh...”
“I’m not falling for that trick! I’d be in debt to you since people don’t just GIVE a beer to others!”
“Uhhhh...”

Like it’s more childish than cynical, like a little kid just crossing their arms and having a temper tantrum just shouting “NO!” over and over again to everything you say. And I feel like it’s ALL the time too, like both his internal and external dialogue are both this bratty kid so he’s always on...like there’s no other side to him. I dunno maybe it will be explained later on. I mean if this is his lifestyle then that means the opposite is true...if you went to Seth’s house and asked for a glass of water he’d charge you for it and would probably never share chips or anything with you. Lol. I dunno man this is my first read through and I hope this guy lightens up here once he gets settled in to this new life of his...or at least becomes less grating. Like I feel like I see how his character is supposed to be, and I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt and chocking it up to “new world jitters”, but he just keeps coming off as some whiny pouty bitch. It’s BEYOND cynical that’s for sure. Still seems like a fun read though and has a good story, well written, already gave it a like and will continue on!

[Orrm]

8930328
Yep, its good to be practical but he is simply rejecting everything. No intelligence behind it or too much intelligence behind it. He doesn't see the profit and loss of taking the chance, he sees the loss and works under said accounting principle.

Not the smartest move.

[Dreadknight garen]

flow is better, character still makes me want to slap him after every word out of his mouth

[Chancegunnett]

I can't help but be reminded of the song Monsters by Shinedown when I imagine seth...