The Little Wooden God

by Apophis797

5. I Am Learning.

"Ugh, damnit." I let out another sigh as the knife sinks too deep and my third attempt at a spearthrower loses it's most important part, that being the notch that throws the spear. I was expecting the design and improvement of the spearthrower to be the hardest part, a chance to hone my engineering skills and create a powerful new tool, but it turns out whittling is really hard and my skills have only gotten rustier since doing the Boy Scouts Klondike Derby when I was 12. I think if anything spending the time to make a sled made me worse off. Got me all confident. Any idiot with a bit of camping experience can make some rough boards and nail them together but it seemed like a pretty big deal at the time. Fortunately it looks like it'll still be a day or two before I can walk most of the day without my legs getting too sore so I've got plenty of time to try. I take the time to stretch my arms before grabbing another tree branch from the pile next to me and setting back to work. Looks like it'll be a long afternoon.

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"Okay, testing project cool spearthrower version one in three... two... one... Go!" As the carved wooden rod in my hand swings smoothly forwards, the sharpened stick within it stays almost perfectly horizontal, getting pushed forward by the large notched bump on its outer end. For a fraction of a second it seems perfect but then, as it continues along its path, the angle is off. The notch is too deep. The back of the makeshift spear goes down as the body goes wildly tumbling through the air, landing a significant distance away but in entirely the wrong direction and to little effect, harmlessly bouncing side-on off of a pony... Specifically one standing in the road rubbing its head and glaring confusedly at me. One who most certainly was not there when I started the test. This could be an issue going forwards.

For a second we both just sorta stare at each other, them unsure of what's going on or what I am and I unsure of how they'll react, before I take the initiative and run to grab my sled, still packed in case of emergencies like this one. It's here that I, acting on instinct and emboldened by my bucket crime experience, forgot some important information. Humans may be far better at running long distances continuously than horses and are generally better at dealing with leg injuries, which likely helped me outrun an elderly war veteran pony, but they are far slower than horses under most circumstances. It seemed, as the pony also ran forward with a yell of <Oh no you don't>, that this also applied to small ponies. Okay, so blindly running has failed me for the first time. Lets try social interaction.

Taking a really good look at her, it seemed to be a her as many ponies I saw did, she seemed like she'd been traveling a while. Her messy pastel pink hair looked messier than it was supposed to be and a little greasy while her bright eyes had small bags under them and her denim overalls, because I guess this was one of the only ponies with a sense of modesty, seemed like it had been on for a while. Hopefully she had somewhere to be and didn't want to be in this situation any more than I did. Lets start with what I hope is a pretty normal greeting.

<Hello?>

<Hey, what the hell are you doing out here throwing sticks around? You stand around here almost getting people killed and someone's bound to think you're a monster.>

"Still not getting any better at equestrian but I can't blame you for trying."

<Ugh, really? Alright, let's see if this works.> She then began wildly gesturing to try and get her point across and, while as rude as you'd expect from someone who just got hit in the head after a multi-day road trip, it did kinda work.

<Doooo noooot> She violently shook her head and waved a leg horizontally in front oh her

<Throooow> She mimed a throwing motion over her head

<Stiiiicks> She pointed at the small pile of hastily sharpened sticks spears next to the sled

<At the roooooad> She swung her hoof out to point along the road, drawing my attention to both it and the large wagon pulled by two other ponies with a spot for a third. Maybe I'm not as observant as I gave myself credit for. I suppose that's what happens when you're really focused on a task but at least I was learning the local language.

<Do not throw sticks at the road?> The words were hard to miss the meaning of so as long as the grammar was the same I had my first full sentence. Lets see how she responds.

<See? That wasn't so hard. Now if you'll excuse me I've got a show planned in a couple days that I now need to cover up this bruise for. Throw your little sticks somewhere else.>

And so, just like that, she joined up with her two companions and they went on their way. A success. Sufficiently spooked I decided that maybe, just maybe, I should be doing this somewhere other than right next to a road. Just as an idea. With a slow, heavy sigh and a stretch of my well-worn calves I tentatively prepared to start and end my days of travel dragging my sled into and out of the woods.

Comments

[Pete100]

It must suck to be in a place that doesn’t speak your language.

[Rawislon03]

With the might of stick throwing nearly mastered all Equestria shall soon kneel before their new Alien Overlord.