The Runaway Bodyguard

by scifipony

Chapter 33 — Ain't that a Kick in the Head

I felt like I was awake in a dream; nothing worked except my lungs expanding and relaxing. I could see, so I guessed my eyes worked, too. Flares of golden lights turned it all into fog banks of prismatic glare that twirled and drifted as I moved my eyes trying to make sense of it all. Purple and blue sprites flitted about like spiky little balls of electricity, zipping and zapping, making me dizzy and nauseous at the same time. They pulsed in time with the pain throbbing in my head, eclipsing the fire in my nose from where I had caught Shadow Strike's hoof.

The fog seemed to separate and a shadowy figure approached. A head lowered and came further into focus. I was in the warehouse. Still in the warehouse. My teleport had backfired.

"What have we here?" The high-pitched voice belonged to a mare. I could glean that much. She had an accent.

I groaned.

"A unicorn having a, how you es say, death wish?" She pointed and a blue hoof came into focus. "Fighters are boludos by definition. We thought this one was es smarter?"

I heard another voice that I couldn't make out over the ringing in my ears. I did, however, get my eyes to focus.

I saw blue eyes blinking at me out of the fog. I then saw a burgundy scarf pushed up to form a ridge by a purple mane and pushed out by her ears. She had mauve fur that was almost colorless enough to be considered grey. She looked young enough that she wasn't middle-aged, but that might be the result of makeup and the scarf, and possibly the long-skirted burgundy dress she wore. She was big-boned, but petite and long-legged like a pegasus, though somewhat voluptuous without being fat. She was an earth pony; no pegasus would tolerate wearing a tight-fitting frock like that without displaying her wings.

"Really?" the mare said, sounding disappointed. "Somepony should kick es sense into the hija of hers, tell her not to be es stupid. Maybe me? Buen."

She did it. My head thumped like a coconut.

Author's Note:

Next up: Umm... Trigger. He gets to explain how the world really works. Or at least one version of it.

The accent: Argentine. Runs in my family.

For the record: I like comments. I also accept critiques. The only way for me to know for sure if what I thought I wrote got through to you is for you to tell me what you thought you read.