A Pox life.

by Isenlyn

Merchant Shenanigans

Something wet touched Rough Barter’s nose. He was a light sleeper, and nothing could get near him while sleeping without waking him up. That is with the exception of his trusty dog, Rango. He opened his eyes, expecting his old trail pal to be licking him awake for a new day of travel and bargaining. What Rough saw was definitively canine, and definitely not his dog. Two big eyes, one blue, one yellowish were on him, belonging to an almost pony sized canine creature draped in a dark cloak. He flailed his hooves in surprise mixed with an instinctive fear coming from being a prey faced by a predator, and recoiled up to being back to the wall of the old ruined house he had found to pass the night.

The strange creature exclaimed a eep of surprise and pain when one of Rough’s hooves connected with his muzzle.

“Ouch, Pony hit Pox !” The creature whimpered scratching his muzzle with a dark gray paw.

During the few moments of uncertainty that followed, Rough the wandering merchant took in the situation. Outside the window his brahmin was munching some dead grass, on a corner of the empty ruined room, Rango was sit and watched the strange creature in the middle of the room, but not with fear or distrust, but an uncharacteristic sympathy, and in the middle of the room was… something.

The creature that had awaken him was almost as big as a pony, and had some morphological resemblance to one, but was clearly a fox. He looked pretty old, had a dark gray coat and wore some scars, showing that he had some story behind him. But strangely, despite being a predator, not a single drop of aggressiveness emanated from him. In fact, every part of his body language, look and little red tongue sticking out his muzzle claimed for a naive kind puppy.

“Excuse me, errr… sir.” Rough began, catching the attention of the fox in front of him. “I didn’t mean to hit you. You just surprised me, that’s all.”

The fox looked at him, and took a step foreward.

“You don’t hate Pox ?”

“Hate what ?” The merchant replied.

“Pox.”

“Err, like being ill ?” Rough tried, his mind not quite on tracks.

“Pox isn’t ill.” Said the fox, tilting his head.

“What ? What’s Pox ?”

“Pox is Pox.” Said the dark vulpine with a proud pose.

“Uuuh… ?” Rough blanked for a moment. “Wait, is that your name ?”

“Yes, Pox is Pox.”

“Hem, okay, let’s start over.” Rough dusted him self, put on his salespony smiled and bowed a little. “Hi, the name’s Rough Barter. Nice to meat you Pox. Excuse me for the misunderstanding. I’m not used to meet, err.. foxes ? Right ? So the name sounded strange to me.” He declaimed using all his talents to put people at ease and make friends.

Pox giggled. “Once again pony says it. Ponies always says Pox is a fox. But Pox is a pony.”

Pox was happy. Once again a pony was smiling to him. And smiles were always a win to make new friends.

“You’re a… pony ?” Rough asked, taken aback. “That’s seems, impossible. Does it cover some crazy stories ?” He asked, ready to take anything in. After all, you don’t travel the wasteland without hearing some crazy stuff. It could be linked to Poison Joke, taint, or some old ministries affair.

“Why would it ?” Pox answered, once again troubling the merchant. “Everypony is a pony. Pox is a pony, but other ponies say Pox is a fox, so Pox is a pony fox, so Pox is Pox.” Pox once again looked proud of him.

“That… makes some sens, I guess.” Rough said, aiming to change the confusing subject. “But, I’d like to hear the story that led you to wake me up though.”

Pox thought fox a second, then beamed. “Pox is hungry.” he exclaimed. Then trotted to come face to face with the merchant and sit. “Do you have a treat for Pox ?”

If you didn’t know Rough Barter, you’ll think he would be quite hard on the bargaining side. But in reality, he always had a soft spot for people in needs. So he smiled kindly to the strangely acting fox. Fox that was now shaking his tail with impatience, and that was a hypnotic sight. The tail was making strange round movement and it took a moment for Rough to realize there were three of them.

“Ok, little guy. Here’s the deal. I don’t give things for free...”

“I can do a roll !” Pox interrupted excitedly, certain that would be the perfect price.

“Errr, no, not necessary. I’m gonna give you some dried up raddog meat, in exchange of the story of how you came here. Is it okay with you ?” He asked

Pox’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. “Dried meat ? Pox want ! Yes, Pox want !”

The merchant took out some dried up meat and gave some to Pox and Rango. It was strange to watch them, as both acted the same. They maintain the meat on the ground with their paws and tore up chunks of meat they barely munch before swallowing in one go. Needless to say, Rough felt a bit foreign of the display in front of him. All his instinct told him this fox was a danger, but all his social knowledge told him this guy was the sweetest that ever will be. And above all that, his dog that was with him for years was now eating next to this Pox, and never looked threaten. If anything, Rango looked like he found a nice dominant dog to live with.

When pox was done, Rough asked him “So, I’ve got some route to cover. Do you mind accompany me and talk on the way or do you prefer take your time here ?”

Pox seemed to ponder the proposition way harder than necessary then brighten with the cutest of mischievous smiles. “Pox can talk on the way. In exchange, can Pox has juice ?” He once again shook his tails.

Rough chuckled. “You’re learning quick, little guy.” He grabbed a Shimmering Sunset Sarsaparilla, a limited edition with an orange mare with a red and yellow mane posing on the label, and put it in front of Pox. Pox that in turn looked at it like a cat a mouse, then grabbed it with his paws and tried to unscrew the cap. That didn’t work and soon Pox was rolling on the floor bottle in paws and bottleneck in mouth emitting strange growling sounds.

Rough looked at the display for a long moment his mind blank before the absurdity of a grown up fox unable to uncap a bottle and lost in the act of nibbling through hard glass.

“Hem, want me to uncap it for you, little guy ?” He kindly asked.

Pox instantly got up, sat in front of the bottle and said in his most kind voice. “Yes please, mister Nice.”

Rough chuckled once more, something he only did as often with his daughter. “here.” he said, uncapping the bottle with a swift movement of his hoof.

Pox grabbed the bottle and drank it in what go, spilling a good part of it on himself as was his way of drinking. Then Pox began to burp.

“heehee, *hip* that’s a fun juice *burp*. It’s fuzzy and feels funny. *burp*”

Rough was now packing his camping gear and loading up his brahmin.

“Ready Max, Berta ?”

The two headed cow nodded it’s two heads in anti-rhythm. “Let’s go, then. Rango, be on the lookout. Pox, stay with me, please.”

The group began its walk to the west, Rango patrolling around the old crumbled road while the brahmin followed Rough and the talking Pox.

“Pox woke up in a ruined house. There were lots of dead ponies, so Pox didn’t want to stay. Pox found water but no food. Pox wanted food. So Pox went toward the sun, but the sun went faster away and night fell.” Pox let a big yawn cutting his story, letting a plain view of his sharp carnivorous teeth, then went back to it. Rough lost some seconds staring at the fox in front of him, marveling at its predator features and wondered how many secrets he might hold. Then he realized he had skip some words.

“...cause Pox don’t like to sleep. So Pox kept walking...”

“Wait what ?” The merchant interrupted. “Why don’t you like sleeping ?”

Pox seemed to ponder how to put the idea into words then talked low, a slight distress in its voice. “Pox don’t like sleeping, because when Pox sleep, he never wakes up at the same place. And Pox never see his friends again. And sometimes, Pox feel he did bad things while sleeping...”

The both of them continued to walk in silence a few moments, Rough unnable to figure out if the silence was tensed, or awkward, or something else. He was then surprised when Pox resumed in its cheery voice.

“So because Pox don’t like sleeping”… yawn… “Pox continued to walk aaaall night. Pox even had to sing not to sleep.” He then began to trot in a hopping motion, his head bobbing left and right.

“It’s the Pox night sooong.

You sing it not to sleep

It’s the Pox night sooong.

You sing it not to sleep

It’s the Pox night sooong.

You sing it not to sleep...”

Rough Barter had enough of the song almost instantly but at the same time, the little fox at his side seemed to have the time of his life. Eyes squinted and smile to the face, Pox was the embodiment of innocence.

“It’s the Pox night sooong.

You sing it not to sleep… Meh, Pox was getting bored of it when Pox sniffed a pony.” Pox continued, resuming his walk without skipping a beat. “So Pox looked for the pony, but Pox found a puppy instead. The puppy was scared of Pox, but Pox told him not to, so he stopped. Then Pox asked if the puppy saw a pony and puppy led Pox to the nice pony, and when Pox went to wake the nice pony, the nice pony was mean and hit Pox.” Finishing his story, Pox seemed lost in his thought, trying to figure out why a nice pony hit him, because nice pony didn’t hit other nice ponies as Pox. Then he yawned again.

“Well, that’s a nice little story you’ve got there.” Said Rough, glancing at Rango who was ears up on a pile of trash. “Are you really able to understand Rango ?”

“Who ?”

“Rango…. Err, the nice puppy ?” Rough clarified.

“Oh, no. He speak strange. But he’s nice and listen to Pox.”

“Oh, too bad. I always wished I could talk with him. It always made me sad that he would understand me far more than me him.”

“He cares about you, very much.” A voice said. A voice that Rough had a hard time identifying as Pox’s with a strange deep undertone. He stopped and watched the strange three tailed fox looking kindly at Rango. Pox then yawn and broke the spell of the scene. He turn toward Rough, walked to him and sat.

“Can Pox has another juice ? Sugar help Pox not to sleep.” he asked with pleading eyes.

“I can give you something to drink, but I’m pretty sure you need some rest. You should take a nap.”

“Aaaaaw, but Pox isn’t tired.” Whined the dark kitsune. “Pox don’t want to sleep, because…. Because Pox don’t want to put nice pony late.” he added half asking half affirming his made up reason. Then he yawn, and tried hiding it, and finally started to wash himself licking his paw and passing it over his eyes. “Can Pox has a juice ?” he asked again, realizing he was really thirsty.

“All right.” started Rough. “But with one condition.”

Pox nodded excitedly, eyes focused on his new favorite drink.

“If you can’t prevent yourself from yawning after that, you’re taking a nap !” he asserted.

Pox seemed torn for a moment, but the aspect of drinking another bottle won in the end.

“Alright, Pox will not yawn, can Pox has the bottle now ?” he said, eyes swinging in rhythm with the bottle and his tongue to the side drooling.

“Alright.” said Rough, tossing the bottle. A few moments later, Pox was on his back, bottleneck in mouth emitting some strangled yelping. Rough sighed, took the bottle and uncapped it. “You’re gonna need to learn that trick, you know ?”

Pox didn’t answer as he was half drowning while drinking the bottle.

“Pffua, Pox like the fuzzy juice.” He then began to yawn but thankfully for him burped because of the drink he just had.

“Pox is ready !” He said getting up, obviously too happy. “Let’s go, Pox is ready !” and in queue began to walk steadily toward the west. Rough sighed and walked up to his side.

They both continued to walk chatting but never fully understanding the other, Rough always using too complicated words or trying to explain some trading subtlety, while Pox talked about things that in his own words seemed convoluted but finally were just uninteresting trivia he saw on his way. More than once Pox went galloping behind a random bug or yawned almost to the point of dislocate his jaw, Rough ignored that, he had in fact decided he would let it be until they paused to eat at midday, not having the heart to force the strange fox to sleep when he had such an adorable look when trying to hide the fact he was yawning.

A few hours later they were both near a little campfire with their belly full. Pox laid down in a furry ball on the ground, head bobbing and trying it’s hardest not too fall asleep. Rough put a blanket over him and Pox jerked awake.

“No, Pox is not sleepy… Yawn… Pox want to go with Rough pony...” he whined with the strength of a butterfly. Passing his paws on his eyes to try to keep them open.

“Sorry Pox, but we had a deal. You’re yawning since this morning. You need to rest, it’s not healthy for you to push yourself too far.” Rough asserted.

“Awww, but Pox don’t wan to sleep. Pox want to stay longer with Rough pony. I don’t want to wake away.”

“It’s alright, Pox, I’m gonna stay with you. And I’ll wait here until you woke up. Is that ok with you” the merchant said nicely scratching behind Pox’s ear as he used to do when bedding his daughter.

“Alright.” relented Pox. “But I know you won’t be there. So, goodbye mister Rough pony.” he said half asleep.

“Goodbye, little guy”

Pox was almost instantly asleep, his chest slowly rising and falling. Rough watched him sleep, smiling when Pox rolled his head and began to snore slightly his tongue dangling over his chops.

“You know, little guy. You’re probably the strangest person I met in the Wasteland.” Rough said with a low voice. “I hope my daughter will be at home when we get to Crossroad. She will not stop hugging you, finding you the most cute thing ever.”

The dark fox on the ground opened his blue eye. The merchant recoiled as this eye looked feral compared to what Pox had shown up until now. Rango who was gnawing into a bone tensed up and growled as a strange aura wrapped the surrounding area. The fox stood up, an ethereal wind catching his dark cape, his eyes full of malice and ready to fight taking in the area. He then looked the pony in front of him in the eyes and asked in a menacing rough voice.

“Where are we ?”

“Hem, you’re okay Pox ?” asked Rough Barter, ready to flee for his life. “Remember, we’re heading toward Crossroad. I have to resupply there.” his voice was shaking a little.

“Cross road, huh. I wonder how I ended up so far west. I have to go north quickly.” The fox said, the tensed aura dissipating but him not relenting a bit. “Who are you ? And why did you call me Pox ?” he asked the shaking pony.

“Well, I’m Rough Barter, and I’m gonna take a guess saying that Pox is either your second personality, or either you are his second personality...” he finished his sentence with a sheepish smile.

The fox seemed to deflate at that. He watched his paws, then his fur stood on end while he closed his eyes. The tension seemed to drop even more and Rango went at his master’s side keeping a wary eye on the strange fox. A few seconds later, the fox opened his eyes and all hostility dropped.

“I can still feel that spiritual magic inside me. But I can’t find where it lingers.” He turned to the pony. “Sorry I scared you, I wasn’t sure you were hostile or not, but your aura is kind, you’re somepony good at heart.” he inclined his head slightly “The name is Salt. Now, I would like to now why you called me Pox, and what is that second personality thing you talked about ?”

Salt sat near the dying fire, pulled out his cigarette packet, and felt the world crumbling around him as he realized his last cigarette was now a crumbled mess compacted at the bottom of the packet.

“On an other note, do you have a cigarette ?” He asked matter of factly.

“Got any caps ?” the merchant asked back, a predatory smile on its lips as he settled down on the other side of the campfire.