Rose and Sam
Chapter 2: Sam
Admiral Biscuit
Daisy and I weren’t the only two ponies who had decided to check the creature out for ourselves. Ginger Gold had set up her woodlot on the edge of town, which both put it nearer to the source of her firewood and also on a fairly untrafficed street, perfect for ponies who bought wood by the wagonload.
Now there were a couple of small groups of ponies walking by, ponies who rarely had any business on this side of town. There were also a few clusters of ponies just watching the creature work, with no attempt made to hide their interest in it.
And there were also a few ponies doing business as usual; looking through the split logs to find the ones they wanted, or simply purchasing one of the bundles Ginger had made up in advance. A lot of bakers and chefs were very specific about the kinds of wood they wanted so that their food would always cook the same, but most homeowners weren’t as concerned as long as the wood burned well and wasn’t too smoky or ashy.
Even though my attention was largely focused on the strange creature, I couldn’t help but notice that Ginger had a lot more split wood than she usually did this early in the year.
There wasn’t a lot to see right away—the creature had its back to us. It might not have liked the crowd of ponies gathered around watching its every move. Or that could have been the most convenient way to split the stack of logs it had.
From what I could see, it looked like a cross between a diamond dog and a minotaur, at least in general form. It was about as tall as a diamond dog but much skinnier, it didn’t have a tail, and its back was furless. It had a sort-of mane, which hung partway down its back—it was tied up with a ribbon, maybe so it wouldn’t get in the way of its forelimbs. When it brought its arms up to swing the maul, I could see that it had hair under them.
It wore dirty pants and tattered hoof-boots on its hind legs, and all its exposed skin was a pale bronze and covered in a light sheen of sweat. I could see a fading bruise on its shoulder and a few scrapes on its back, and I watched its muscles as it worked the axe.
The creature also had a shirt, as dirty and stained as the rest of its clothes. It wasn’t wearing it; the shirt was draped over the top rail of the fence, next to a wooden cup that had been balanced on the top of a fencepost.
Staring wasn’t polite, but I couldn’t help myself. There was something about the way it moved, something purposeful and fluid and deliberate in the way it worked, something almost pony. It was strange, but there was almost a harmony to its rhythm even if it looked awkward in the way it stood and the way it worked.
“It doesn't look dangerous,” Daisy observed.
“No . . . I wonder what it is?”
“Maybe if a diamond dog bitch and a minotaur decided to breed.”
A blush crept across my cheeks. “That’s rude. And the ears are wrong, too. I wonder what happened to all its fur? I hope it’s not sick.”
“You don’t think that it is, do you?” Daisy took a step back. “It looks really skinny.”
“Berry Black had all his fur, you’d think that if it was he’d be losing it, too. If it was a disease or fleas or something.” I looked back over at the creature. It had finished splitting the pile of wood it had and was picking the pieces up from around the chopping block. “Maybe it shaved it off so it doesn’t overheat when it works.”
“I dunno, I’ve seen lots of farmponies and working stallions with trimmed coats, but nopony I know would go furless. And Ginger would know, wouldn’t she? She’d make sure, she’d ask Berry.”
“He’s a donkey, he might not tell the truth.” I scraped my hoof against the ground as I thought about it. “But she’d know that, and if they really have been working together, and if she was sick, he’d have caught it by now and everypony would know. And she buys his wood from him anyway, he wouldn’t have anything to gain if there was a chance it might make her sick.”
Daisy nodded, and then the two of us watched it gather the logs. It could balance several against its chest with one forearm while picking up and stacking them with the other. I thought it was doing a faster job than Ginger Gold, but I wasn’t going to say it.
As it continued working, it turned towards us, and I got my first good look at the face of the creature. It had small eyes and no muzzle and yet it looked right for it. Stray bangs that had come out of its hair-ribbon covered part of its face, and once it had finished stacking as much wood as it could carry, it brushed it back over an ear. I could see a bit of bemusement in its eyes at the number of ponies gathered around watching, and it looked up as a pegasus took flight off a roof before focusing back on its task.
Waving felt like the right thing to do—it had seen us and it knew we were watching it—so I lifted my hoof and a moment later, Daisy did, too. It didn’t wave back.
“I think it’s female,” Daisy confided. “Did you see, on its chest? Those look like nipples.”
I hadn’t noticed, and it had turned its back again as it carried the wood over to the other side of her lot, but I got a chance to look as it walked back, and I thought she was right. The creature was female.
I shifted around on my hooves as it picked up the axe again and started working.
•••
“I want to get a closer look at it . . . at her.”
“You can’t just walk up to the fence and talk to it,” Daisy cautioned.
“Why not?”
“Ginger’s paying for it to do work, not to chat. And maybe it doesn’t talk, I haven’t heard it say anything, have you?”
Just then, Ginger called to her, and she set the wood down then walked over to the fence and the two of them spoke before it moved along the fence and crouched down in front of a new pony who I hadn’t seen arrive.
Daisy must not have, either; she tapped my shoulder to get my attention. “Is that the miller?”
I nodded.
“Why’s she want firewood? You can’t have a fire in a mill.”
“Never mind that, she can talk,” I said. Indeed, she and the miller were carrying on a conversation, although I couldn’t hear what it was about.
Finally, the two bumped hoof and paw and she went back to the chopping block while the miller turned and headed back into town.
“I don’t think she’s a monster,” I said. A monster wouldn’t be chopping wood for Ginger Gold, a monster wouldn't talk to the miller, the evidence was plain as day. The creature was real, the newspaper had actually gotten that right, but it wasn’t a monster at all, it wasn't a threat to anypony.
“Me, either. I think . . . I think she’s from somewhere far away and got lost and she’s trying to get by. She looks like a hard worker, she—”
She’d finished stacking the firewood and went up to the fence to take a break, leaning against the rail and watching us watching her as she drank her water. I started to feel almost guilty, like she was an unintentional creature in a zoo or a circus who didn’t belong, who didn’t deserve to be a spectacle. I’d seen Ginger split wood plenty of times; as often as not she was working when we came by to get some firewood, and sometimes if she was really busy she wouldn’t stop for any small talk as we checked out what she had to offer. That didn’t bother me, I was used to that. She’d mark down in her tally-book that we’d bought some wood and we’d settle up later. I was used to that, and sometimes she had other ponies working for her, especially as it got close to winter and she needed a bigger wood supply and nopony gathered to watch them work.
Ginger headed off to the outhouse, indicating to me at least that the creature didn’t require close supervision. It could be trusted not to go rogue with the axe.
I made my decision in an instant, and turned to face Daisy. “I’m going to buy some firewood from—from her. We’ll use it.”
Before Daisy could object and change my mind, I left her side and trotted across the road. The creature watched me as I entered the sales yard, walking between the neat-stacked piles of cordwood and the pre-made bundles.
She set down her mug and walked over in my direction, and I started to reconsider my boldness as she got closer: she was tall and her paws had claw-like fingers and the smell of her and her sweat was alien, dangerous.
I reminded myself that Ginger wouldn’t have let her in the woodlot if she was a threat, wouldn’t have given her an axe, wouldn’t have left her alone to use the outhouse. And Daisy had been close, practically on my heels, watching wide-eyed. The creature wasn’t a monster, she was a lost mare who didn’t fit in and was trying to get by. I could be a brave pony, and I did my best to study the wood to find the best bundles, I did my best to ignore her standing close enough to reach me if she wanted to.
“Can I have two bundles?” My voice faltered, and I gestured with a hoof at the stack of pair-bundles. Saddlebags didn’t fit cordwood properly, and a lot of ponies didn’t have proper panniers for carrying firewood so Ginger had figured out how to tie two bundles together with lengths of twine to cross the back for easier transport.
“That’s a bit and a half,” she said. Her voice was almost pony-like, but with a strange exotic accent I’d never heard before.
For a moment, I didn’t remember to respond; I was so focused on seeing her up close. She was taller than she’d looked from a distance, and up close I was certain she was female, certain that she had udders and teats and I hadn’t imagined the hair under her arms or the beads of sweat on her skin, and then my eyes were drawn to her tattered stained pants, which didn’t look like anything a pony would have made, and then she was speaking again and it took me a second to remember what I was doing and I shook my head and flattened my ears before looking her in the eyes.
“I have an account.” I pointed a hoof at the account book, in case she didn’t know what that was. “Roseluck.” I gestured back at my cutie mark, that was how Ginger kept track of who bought what. I’d seen the book before, she wasn’t the best at sketching cutie marks but it was at least recognizable and I thought that the creature would be able to figure it out.
She nodded and got the book, flipping through pages until she found it. She didn’t have to go far—I’d bought wood just a couple weeks ago, we really didn’t need it.
While I shopped, Daisy’s curiosity had finally gotten the better of her, and she’d crossed the road at least.
The creature put a couple tally marks alongside my last purchase, then closed up the book and put it away.
She picked up the bundle and carefully set it on my back, adjusting it until it was balanced. Ginger Gold always put smooth-barked logs on the inside to avoid scratching, and she did the same. The feeling of her paws on my back was weird but I kept myself mostly still as she got everything in place.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” As I moved out of the way, she looked over at Daisy. “Do you want some firewood?”
Daisy shook her head. “I’m with her,” she said, pointing a hoof in my direction. “Um, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s your name?”
I almost smacked myself in the face, I could have asked.
“Sam.”
No gloves? Either Sam's got hands like leather by this point, or she will soon. Chopping wood all day isn't for the faint of heart.
11042524
Sam probably only had what was on her back when she arrived in equestria. Doubt she had gloves. Although I do agree with you. Her hands will be very tough by the end of this. One day of splitting wood in the scouts and my hands were pure blister and callous.
Ouch I wonder how long until Rarity makes her a new wardrobe? Only having what looks like they could soon be rags is not going to sit well with her.
I'm curious if Admiral Biscuit is trying to pull a fast one on us.
Sam is a generic name suitable for male or female (Sam/Samuel/Samantha) and the decision that the ponies made was made based on Sam having nipples. Could go either way.
A thought, whatever the nature of Equestria’s sun it can give sunburns. Current dermatologist guidelines strongly recommend that any outdoor job should include thorough sun protection. Because even moderate sun exposure can cause subtle damage that adds up over time and greatly increases the odds of skin cancer later in life. If Sam is going everywhere half naked (spoiler for prequel and eventually fully naked) she should really be buying sunscreen in bulk.
The creature, a sam (it says that it is sam; so now, that must be the SpeciesName ) has a almost no hair on its back. I believe that I know why:
We lost most of our hair for thermoregulation:
Humans cannot survive cold nights nude, but other great apes can. A few million years ago, we started using clothes and fire. These let us survive cold nights with much less hair. This gave us an advantage during the day:
Let us suppose that the temperature is between 30 and 40 C. One is hungry. One sees some yummy ungulates. One starts jogging after them. Because of their fur, they can run more than an hour, but less than 2 before succumbing to hyperthermia. Because of our bare skin, we can jog more than 2 hours but less than 3. The ungulate collapsed from overheating and we eat it.
The loss of hair ruined grooming, so we evolved acne. Then, came religion which banned pleasure. For over a million years, it was "If you will pop my pimples, I shall pop yours.". That is why videos like this 1 put people into trances and make them feel like they are on opiates:
Getting back to thermal regulation, ponies use fire and clothing; so now, maybe they should have sparse bodyhair.
11042827
Maybe, although she does latter describe Sam as having Udders which suggests breasts or a somewhat overweight male, but given the rest of the description overweight does not seem likely.
11042827
This is prequel to another story where Sam is definitely female. In that story, it was a withheld detail with some slight clues for some time, but here it seems like it's not.
11042524
Be hard pressed to get gloves for a human in Equestria. And besides, she’s worked with Berry Black harvesting wood for a while now, so she should have built up some calluses. Just the same, she does mention in another story in the series that chopping wood sucked.
11042617
Correct on both counts.
She was doing wood harvesting with Berry Black for a while, so that would help at least. But yeah, it’s hard work and if your hands aren’t used to it, they’re going to be having a bad time. Odds are she’s going to get some hits on her body from stray chunks of wood, too. And then there’s splinters. . . .
11042682
Wouldn’t be cheap. Rarity might make one outfit out of the kindness of her heart, but she’s unlikely to provide enough for everyday wear, certainly not for free.
11042827
Maybe if the reader isn’t familiar with the other stories (which I’d guess most readers here are) . . . Daisy’s guess at identification is based on a pony anatomy fact, but she turns out to be correct just the same.
11043163
That is good advice, although I don’t know if ponies have the stuff. Maybe they do; IRL equines can get sunburns (especially ones with light-colored fur or light-colored skin) and they can also get skin cancer. Probably not an immediate worry for Sam, but maybe it is something she should consider long-term.
11043248
We did, at least that’s one theory on it (I think parasites are another, and it’s entirely possible it’s a combination of factors). Worth noting that equines can also full-body sweat, just like humans, which gives them better thermoregulation than some animals . . . they can certainly handle, as a species, some climate differences other animals cannot.
That kind of video isn’t as satisfying to me, personally. Maybe mutual grooming was so beneficial to the ponies that was a good reason to keep fur.
They can sweat a lot, and they don’t wear clothing much, so they might find their coats still advantageous.
11043309
You’re right on the money, Sam is female.
11043681
And it’s not like the ponies would really know the difference from first sight, so they’re just guessing (in this case correctly) about Sam’s gender. Nothing about her is obvious one way or another, or for that matter if she even has a gender. Obviously, if you remember the other stories, you’ll know that Rose finds out for sure later on.
11043735
I did not want to point this out 2 chapters in a time, but:
¡All ponies are racists!
11043800
Speciesist, and often tribalist. And you’re correct.
Thought we had that well-established in Silver Glow’s Journal, with the “I’m not a tribalist, I’ve got a unicorn friend.”
EDIT: the good news is that they’re not misogynistic. Quite the opposite, in fact, to Sam’s good fortune.
11043806
Yes we did. I suppose that my joke was too subtle:;
Notice that I include the adjective "'all'". That is stereotyping all ponies and was supposed to be funny because I point out that the ponies stereotype.
Ah yes, the confusing signals that come from trying to use the standards of your species on another. Going by the lack of comments on pregnancy (and the prequel,) Sam is probably male, but flat chests are always an option. Either way, this is the start of a beautiful friendship. I just hope Sam starts a similarly beautiful one with Rarity soon.
11044173
Nope, she’s a girl. While Daisy (and Rose’s) method of figuring that out was based on their own anatomy, they did manage to get it correct. I am kind of curious about what pregnancy has to do with it? Are you assuming that the might thing a obese man (or woman, as the case might be) was pregnant?
She doesn’t have a lot going on up top, but she’s got more than Kiera Knightly. And yes, minor spoiler she does get more clothes from Rarity in time.
11046863
It's a not-uncommon trope with mares getting turned into (or first encountering) humans to have a two-stage reaction:
1. Why are they up there?
2. Why are they that distended?
Part 2 lead to some unfortunate assumptions.
11047098
That is true, and I’ll be honest I don’t think it’s the first thing that ponies would focus on. Like in the case of transformation, ‘where did my coat go?’ would be a really high concern, I think. Also no tail, fixed ears, etc. Ditto for seeing a human for the first time, I just don’t think that would be the one thing they’d focus on first, although it might be of interest later on.
(That does depend on some headcanon; for example, what does a female minotaur look like? I don’t think we’ve ever seen one, but I could be wrong.)
Oh, this is off to a great start. Loving it so far.
Doubling down on the donkey distrust? Well, I suppose it is the Flower Trio (minus one)... hopefully some time with Sam might teach Rose something.
11047767
Thank you!
11051678
Thank you!
Well, I am the King of Slice of Life.
I do try to write calm, peaceful fics, especially nowdays that we really need them.
11052618
Some ponies are speciest. . . .
Yes, it is.
Oh, it does. Eventually. Even Lily learns some things in time.
still far better than zecora's first contact
11223103
This is true. Maybe the citizens of Ponyville learned a thing or two from that experience.
Well, most of the citizens.