Finding Yourself In Another World

by Jest

Chapter 9

Gluey awoke to find that he was laying on the cold, hard wooden floor of Trixie’s wagon. A wagon that was trundling down the road, pulled by Trixie herself who was currently humming a jaunty tune. Washed away by the rattling wagon, it was hard to hear Trixie’s song, though it wasn't like Gluey was actually listening.

Rather he was lying there on his back, staring up at the ceiling, slowly coming to grips with his reality. He was back in Equestria, back in Trixie’s wagon, and was once again a female griffon. Staring at his own clawed hand, Gluey briefly considered jumping off a bridge in order to get back to his other life.

That thought was dismissed almost immediately, but the desperation of which it was born, remained. He was doomed, trapped to return here each time he fell asleep, and seemingly nothing could change that. Clearly, this wasn't the simple byproduct of some off-brand sleeping pills, this was well and truly his new reality.

“At least my back doesn't hurt,” he muttered absently to himself.

The griffon pushed themself up, and grunted, wincing as they clutched at their spine.

“Spoke too soon,” Gluey murmured.

Whispering curses to himself, Gluey stumbled into an awkward stance, legs wobbling. Almost instantly the long time spent immobile on the floor caught up with them and they fell back to their knees. Pain shot up their legs, while their bladder reminded them that it had been quite a while before it had been emptied.

“Bathroom, where’s the bathroom?” Gluey asked the empty room. “Right. This is a wagon. Why would there be a bathroom?”

Stumbling to the back of his ride, Gluey pushed open the door and was immediately blinded. The interior of the wagon had been lit only by what light made its way through a curtained-off window. Unlike here, where there was nothing to obscure the sun save for a smattering of fluffy white clouds.

“Dammit all,” Gluey muttered.

Stumbling backward, the griffon toppled into a heap, and cursed again, grasping his wounded knee. As if hearing his distress, Trixie began to slow, the wagon coming to a swift halt several seconds later. While hooves rounded the back, Gluey was awkwardly pulling himself up once more, a grimace on his features.

“Hey you’re awake,” Trixie exclaimed, peeking a head into the wagon. “I thought for sure you had died back here.”

“And you were okay with just, transporting a corpse?” Gluey remarked bitterly.

“Nah I was planning on dumping you in a ditch once we got a little further away from the closest town,” Trixie replied with a smirk.

Gluey chuckled. “Well I did tell you I slept like the dead so I can't really blame you.”

Trixie stepped aside, allowing Gluey to half walk, half fall out of the wagon, his legs struggling to stay solid. Upon getting all four of his limbs back under him once more, Gluey looked around to find that they were in a lowland area. Rolling hills, small pockets of trees, and scattered homesteads could be seen in every direction he looked.

“Scenic,” Gluey muttered.

“Yeah. It's a little out of the way, but I had some business I needed to conclude at this town before we start heading to the coast,” Trixie explained.

“How long will-” Gluey’s eyes went wide. “One sec. Be right back.”

One quick, and awkward squat in a bush later, and Gluey returned with a blush on her cheeks.

“Right, so. How long will it take to get there anyway?” Gluey inquired.

“A couple of days. From there it will take about a week to cross the ocean, depending on the currents,” Trixie explained from inside the wagon.

“And to Canterlot?” Gluey pressed.

“Another few days, probably a week,” Trixie answered, emerging with a bag, and a waterskin. “Here. I picked up some rations while you were sleeping.”

Gluey peered inside the brown bag to find that it was filled with trail mix, only with the addition of some jerky. It was a far cry from the stuff he usually bought for himself back home, but it was a welcome sight. Before he got to the salty snacks, he popped open the waterskin and began to chug, nearly downing the entire thing in one go.

“Don't drink it all,” Trixie warned. “That's the last of it until we reach the next town.”

“How long will that be?” Gluey inquired, shoveling a handful of trail mix into his mouth.

“Couple hours? I aim to get there by evening so we can stay in town overnight,” Trixie explained.

Gluey followed the unicorn as she walked around the front of the wagon, chatting as she moved.

“So what kind of business do you have anyway? Wait. you wanted jewelry, right?” Gluey inquired.

“Sort of,” Trixie admitted. “It's a long story. Don't worry about it. Just focus on pulling the wagon.”

Gluey blinked and looked down to find themself strapped into the harness. “Oh yeah. I guess I should take a turn,” Gluey murmured.

“Either that or get on your way. I ain't running a charity here,” Trixie replied.

“You dropped the royal we,” Gluey pointed out.

“Would you rather the great and powerful Trixie speak with more aplomb?” Trixie exclaimed in a theatrical tone.

“Nah. I rather enjoy the more relaxed speech pattern,” Gluey answered, only to grunt. “Damn, this thing is heavy.”

“Are you calling me fat?” Trixie demanded.

Gluey looked back to where Trixie was sprawled out on a bench on the front of the wagon. The sight made an odd warmth stir in the griffon’s chest, prompting a whole flood of strange emotions. Which were dismissed almost immediately by a firm, shake of the head and glancing back at the road.

“No. You sure aren't fat,” Gluey murmured. “More like I’m out of shape.”

“Well when one sleeps as much as you, that is to be expected,” Trixie flippantly remarked.

Gluey grunted, digging their clawed limbs into the harsh gravel and heaving their body forward. Their effort was rewarded by the wagon beginning to trundle forward, quickly becoming easier as they moved. With momentum now behind them, Gluey was able to push on with considerably less effort.

“Whew, thats tough,” Gluey stated.

“Just wait until we get to the next hill,” Trixie replied.

“I am not looking forward to it,” Gluey murmured.

For several minutes they continued on in silence, with neither saying a word and merely enjoying the quiet. Gluey found themself staring upward the majority of the time, watching the small clouds and occasional griffon zip by. Traffic was spotty, with few creatures darkening the road, and all keeping their distance from the wagon.

Though the wonder of a true fantasy world was difficult to shake, it soon wore off, leaving behind boredom. Strip away the talking horses, and real-live griffons and this was just a hilly area devoid of anything interesting. Left with little to do or even think, Gluey’s mind went to her traveling companion.

“Hey Trixie,” Gluey began. “Tell me more about yourself.”

“Ahh, Trixie’s favorite topic, herself,” Trixie mused aloud. “What do you wish to know?”

“How was your childhood?” Gluey inquired, his beak closely tightly as he began the slow ascent up a rather large hill.

“What's there to tell?” Trixie muttered. “My father was a traveling magician, my mother a wealthy heiress to a vast fortune. They were a bit of an odd couple, but despite their faults, and there are many, they at least loved one another.”

Trixie was quiet for a moment, the unicorn rolling onto her back and staring up at the sky.

“You know I was a miracle foal?” Trixie asked, only to immediately answer. “My mother was barren, and my father always wore an anti-conception charm around his neck. Then somehow, out of pure incredible luck, I came along.”

“I bet they were happy,” Gluey managed to utter between grunts.

Trixie merely scowled. “You would think that, but no. They were bitter and resentful for having their lives so interrupted. Woe be it to my mother who could no longer attend her many functions. Sorry for my father, who could no longer travel as frequently, or go as far, truly his lot in life was terrible.”

Gluey remained silent, focusing on simply getting the enormous wagon up the surprisingly steep incline. Behind her, Trixie ruminated silently, the pony tapping her forehooves together as she stared up at the sky.

“To them, I was a burden,” she suddenly spoke. “And they made sure I knew that at every opportunity, reminding me of what they sacrificed for me. As you can expect that didn't exactly endear me to them, and I left pretty much as soon as I was legally able to do so.”

“That sounds hard,” Gluey murmured, his claws scratching deep as the top of the rise began to grow close.

“It sure wasn't easy, but I made it work,” Trixie declared. “I struggled and scraped for years, working as a performer for anyone who would pay and even some who wouldn't. Then I went to Ponyville and…”

The pony trailed off and didn't say anything for nearly five minutes. During which time Gluey guided the wagon over the hill, and down the other side. Once at the bottom, they reached flat ground once more, allowing the griffon to glance over her shoulder. Where a guilty, angry, and generally distraught Trixie lay on the bench, her forehooves pressing together.

“Trixie, are you okay?” Gluey inquired.

“What, oh right,” Trixie muttered, sitting upright. “I lost everything in Ponyville. My reputation, my wagon, everything, but I’ll get it all back plus interest soon enough.”

“What happened exactly?” Gluey pressed.

“Some fools decided to trash the place, and somehow I ended up with the blame,” Trixie retorted, snorting irritably. “That's all I want to say about that. What about you? Was your childhood filled with pain and woe as well?”

Gluey chuckled. “Not exactly. My parents weren't exactly perfect, but they were at least there. Even if I’d rather my mother be far more distant than she is.”

“Good to hear the grass is not always greener,” Trixie remarked.

“You can say that again. When I was a kid my mom was distant, as she was too focused on her career. Once things started taking off she had time, but by then I was already an adult,” Gluey sighed. “Sometimes it feels like she's trying to make up for lost time.”

“What does she do?” Trixie pressed.

“Lawyer. Do you guys have those here?” Gluey inquired, shooting a glance over his shoulder.

“Unfortunately,” Trixie answered.

Gluey sighed. “Too bad. This place would be better off without them.”

“So,” Trixie picked back up. “What about your dad?”

“He was the opposite,” Gluey began. “Emotionally available when I was a kid, and an amazing father. After his fourth book bombed, and publishers refused to pick him up, he started hitting the bottle pretty hard. Never really came up for air since my eighteenth birthday.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Alcohol truly is one of the world’s great evils,” Trixie declared.

“Like all things, it should be done in moderation,” Gluey replied. “Unfortunately this is a lesson some seem determined not to learn.”

Trixie grunted but said nothing.

“So,” Gluey began again. “What about school, how was that?”

“Oh, I loved school. Half of the time,” Trixie exclaimed, her tone shifting from jovial to annoyed. “I was bullied fiercely, but had great teachers and-”

As the pony began to talk at length about her experiences in school, Gluey couldn't help but find himself feeling strange. The odd sensation was harder to shake and left the griffon with a warmth that refused to leave him. He felt, appreciated the small joy of conversing with a kindred spirit doing wonders to help his flagging mood.

They shared more in common than even he and Emelia did, a realization that made Gluey uncomfortable. They weren't anywhere close to one another, with Trixie being far more boisterous than Emelia was capable. Despite this, he couldn't help but compare the two against one another in his head.

Pushing down that odd sensation, Gluey focused on the conversation, allowing it to wash over him in a gentle wave. Talking with Trixie made his negative emotions more distant, and his problems seem far less pressing. Minutes turned to hours, with the pair continuing to chat away, taking only short breaks to rest or make use of a well-placed bush.

Though incredibly physically demanding, Gluey was surprised that he was able to keep pulling without complaint. His muscles ached, and his body was covered in sweat, but he had done it, he had spent almost the entire day pulling the cart. With the sun beginning to set behind them, and a sparsely populated town rising before them, Gluey felt pride well in his chest.

The village itself was little more than a collection of huts, atop a large, flat-topped hill bigger than most. The singular road visible crossed a narrow stream, and traveled up the rise, vanishing amidst the tangle of homes. Few griffons were visible, with the majority centered around a small market that Gluey could see the edge of.

“Whowee, almost there,” Gluey murmured.

“Actually, you can wait here,” Trixie exclaimed, hopping off from her perch. “You’re probably sweaty and tired from the long walk here.”

“That's an understatement,” Gluey replied.

“Go cool off in the creek,” Trixie offered. “It's quick enough that it doesn't seem too gross and it's probably the best you’re going to get for a while.”

“Good thinking,” Gluey declared.

The griffon pulled the wagon off the side of the road, settling it in a small groove so it wouldn't roll away. With that done, he removed himself from the harness and began to walk over to the creek only to stop himself. Instead of bathing, he watched as Trixie began to make her way into town without her usual magician garb.

She had traded in her flashy cape and hat for a heavy bag of money, as well as a simple grey cloak with a hood that shrouded her features. Evidently going for stealth, Trixie slunk soundlessly towards the village, creeping low to the ground. It was an odd sight, but not one that unnerved Gluey overmuch, as she trusted the pony, despite the short time they knew one another.

Sure there was mystery there, holes in the mare’s stories, but there was always a sense of honesty there. Everything Trixie did, she did so with an intense passion that Gluey couldn't help but find endearing. He himself was rarely taken to flights of fancy or bouts of such extreme emotion, but to Trixie that was normal.

Trixie had such a zest for life that was endearing, and almost a little intimidating in a way. She wanted what she wanted, and she fought hard to get that thing, whatever it was. Compared to Gluey, who had sleepwalked through the majority of his life, simply taking the path of least resistance.

He was happy and content with his lot back in the other world, but talking to Trixie made him wonder. Was there a better way? Was there some other option available that he had not known of or ever truly inspected. Those thoughts and more swirled in his head as he walked down to the river, and began to bathe in a shallow pool.

The cool, crisp spring water was refreshing if a bit nippy. Despite this, and how late it had grown, Gluey felt himself become oddly relaxed. Without soap, or anything else to assist in bathing, it was a rather simplistic affair, but still workable.

If the griffon closed their eyes they could almost imagine that they were an old timey peasant during the medieval age. Bathing in the local river in order to cleanse themselves of the filth accumulated throughout the day. It was a nice thought, but eventually, it had to be discarded, as a chill was beginning to set into the griffon’s bones.

Thankfully they were clean by then, and after shaking himself off, Gluey reclined in a fresh patch of grass. Part of him wanted to go back and grab a snack, but it was just so pleasant sitting out there that he didn't move. Simply watching as the sky darkened, the sun retreated, and the world began to grow dark.

That was until he heard a sudden commotion from inside the town. Glancing in that direction, Gluey narrowed his gaze and focused on the source of the noise. There he saw several torches bobbing alongside something that glinted in the night.

“Wait, are those… pitchforks?” Gluey muttered to himself.

A moment later and a small throng of griffon villagers appeared from the gloom, illuminated by the burning lights held above their heads. Armed mostly with farming or herding implements, two amongst their number held traditional swords and wore leather armor. One of them was old, with the color having drained from his body, leaving only a line of black feathers on his head. His companion was a young female with a smattering of purple and pink feathers amidst a sea of brownish golds.

“What did you get into now?” Gluey murmured, rising from the riverbank.

Sure enough, Trixie could be seen in the middle of the group, her head held low and a frown on her face. Though obviously perturbed, she didn't seem overly concerned, even less so when she locked eyes with Gluey. The unicorn then said something, and the angry mob turned to Gluey, making their way over to her at a quick pace.

“Something I can help you with?” Gluey called as they approached.

“Do you know this mare?” barked the older guard griffon.

“I do,” Gluey answered.

“Ha, I told you!” Trixie shouted.

“Quite, thief!” bellowed the younger guard before slapping the magician upside the head.

“Wait, thief? What's going on here?” Gluey demanded.

The older guard cleared his throat. “We caught this one sneaking out of town with a weird box tucked away. She claims she purchased its contents legally, but when we looked there was no such mysterious seller around.”

“Because he left after I bought it!” Trixie hissed.

“A likely story!” Someone shouted from amidst the group, prompting several more of the villagers to yell accusations or insults.

“We were hoping you could corroborate her story,” bellowed the older guard, silencing the rabble. “Given that you supposedly saw her enter town, and have been traveling with her for some time.”

“Just a day or so, but yeah I saw her enter town with her bag of money,” Gluey began, glancing at Trixie. “Given that it's now gone, I assume she was able to make her purchase.”

A quiet fell over the mob, only for someone to suddenly pipe up.

“She’s in on it!” yelled the person.

“I was robbed!” added another.

Immediately the silence was shattered, replaced by yelling, accusations, insults, and general paranoia. Trixie’s confidence vanished as a rather irritated griffon prodded her with a pitchfork, scaring the mare but not hurting her. The guards tried to calm everyone down, but they were clearly failing, leading to only further escalating the situation. With things rapidly coming to a head, Gluey had an idea and took a deep, deep lungful of air.

With an ear-splitting screech, Gluey silenced everyone, the griffon surprising himself with the volume of his voice. The long, shrill keen made several particularly sensitive griffons to clutch at their head to hold the sound at bay. In the end, everyone had stopped and was facing Gluey as he quickly refilled his lungs.

“Has anyone looked inside the box?” Gluey asked.

Everyone shook their head.

“Alright so if anyone recognizes the contents then that would prove it was theirs, right?” Gluey pressed.

“I suppose,” admitted the elder guard.

“But you could be lying as well,” Gluey pressed. “Which is why you are going to get me a piece of paper, and I’ll peek inside, draw the item in question, then I’ll fold up the piece of paper and keep it in broad view of everyone.”

“Then everyone can say what's in it, and when it's over we can confirm if someone was indeed robbed,” murmured the younger guard. “That makes sense. Someone, fetch this girl some paper and a quill!”

A young member of the mob quickly scampered away, sprinting off towards the closest house. As they waited, Trixie mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ to Gluey, who smiled back, giving the mare a nod. The small, mostly rust-colored griffon returned with the requested items, handing them over to Gluey.

“Right, everyone stand back so no one cheats,” Gluey demanded.

The mob obeyed, allowing Trixie to step forward, with a box held tight in her hooves.

“Are you sure about this?” Trixie whispered.

“Do you have a better idea?” Gluey replied.

Trixie frowned. “Alright, I’ll trust you.”

Opening the box, Trixie revealed what looked like a necklace on the front of which was a winged and horned pony. A large red gem dominated the central portion, above which were the feathered appendages and the pony’s head. It was oddly intimidating, the red-eyed inanimate pony seemingly staring directly into Gluey’s eyes no matter how he looked at it.

Then, the box snapped shut, and Trixie tucked it swiftly back under her cloak, hiding it from sight. The second this happened, the strange, trance-like effect vanished, and Gluey began to sketch what he had seen. His drawing wasn't perfect, but the necklace wasn't difficult to draw, given its mostly straight lines and simplistic appearance. Within only a few minutes, Gluey had reproduced its likeness near perfectly and folded it up before holding it above his head.

“I have seen the item, and drawn what it looks like right here,” he shouted. “You will all get one guess, and then after you have all made that guess, I will reveal what it looks like.”

“And after that we’ll confirm for sure, right?” asked the older guard.

“Exactly,” Gluey agreed.

“Right then,” he muttered, clearing his throat. “Form a line everyone.”

Though unruly a moment ago, the mob swiftly did as they were told, assembling before the guards. Who took down their guess, drawing out what the villagers described as missing. Gluey peeked over to see if any were close, but of the four he saw, none were anywhere near correct.

Gluey restrained his urge to smile or glance in Trixie’s direction, lest they be seen as colluding somehow. Yet despite this, Gluey could almost feel Trixie’s building confidence, and her wide, mirthful grin. Which no doubt remained plastered firmly to her face throughout the entire event.

“Right. Let's take a look here,” exclaimed the older guard.

The griffon splayed out all the drawings on the grass, revealing that they varied wildly in appearance. Some were incredibly well detailed while others were vague, with no colors listed, as if hedging their bets. Be it greed, or a misplaced desire to recover something actually stolen, none had correctly guessed even the shape of the amulet.

“It seems as though Trixie is exonerated,” Gluey declared, unfurling his sheet of paper victoriously.

The crowd gaped in silence as Gluey showed off his best replication of the item in question.

“Now let's just confirm it then,” murmured the griffon guard.

Trixie hesitated a moment before opening the box, revealing its contents to the grizzled old male. Who stared with wide, wonder-filled eyes right up until the box snapped shut once more, leaving him confused. A shake of the head seemed to clear out the cobwebs, and he released a bitter snort before turning back to the mob.

“I am disappointed in each and every one of you,” he began, his voice stern. “This pony was innocent and you all seemed ready to try and steal from her.”

“But then why is she acting all sneaky?” someone yelled.

“I don't know, and I don't care,” retorted the guard. “She didn't break any laws, nor did she steal anything. I know there have been a few break-ins recently but this pony is clearly not the culprit.”

“If it makes you feel any better we were in Evergreen a day ago,” Gluey offered.

“Yeah, they can confirm I was there! I did a show for almost the whole village!” Trixie added.

“Should we add that to the report?” whispered the younger guard.

Their superior snorted again. “Why bother? Nothing happened, and thus nothing will get reported. Now go back to your homes or I’ll arrest you all for loitering!”

The mob dispersed, muttering curses under their breath, or speculating over what had been in the box. There were few who genuinely seemed upset, and Gluey took some small comfort that most were simply curious.

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am. Have a good night,” offered the guard.

“My apologies for being a bit rough,” murmured the younger guard. “I admit I may have been a bit overzealous.”

“Promise to catch the true thief and I will consider us, even,” Trixie exclaimed, extending a hoof.

The young guard bumped her fist against the offered limb. “I promise.”

“Good,” Trixie declared. “Now then. Let's get moving, the further we can get from this place the better.”

“Sure,” Gluey offered.

Gluey hitched themself up to the wagon while Trixie clambered onto the bench with a resounding sigh. A few seconds later and they were moving once more, this time heading away from the small town. For a while, everything was silent, but as the village slowly vanished from sight, the tense atmosphere vanished.

“Here’s good,” Trixie pointed out, using her magic to indicate a small side road.

Gluey nodded, and ambled down the path, stopping near a burnt-out form house that had long since been abandoned. The yard was overgrown, and the outbuildings had been mostly destroyed, leaving behind only their skeletal remains. Thankfully there were no real skeletons, allowing the pair to relax at least a little bit.

“That was pretty crazy,” Gluey remarked while unhitching themselves. “To think they’d break out the pitchforks and torches just for something so small.”

“Ponies or griffons, everyone goes a little crazy when they are paranoid,” Trixie remarked somewhat absently.

“No kidding,” Gluey murmured.

“Thank you, by the way,” Trixie exclaimed, hopping off the wagon, and pulling Gluey into a hug. “I didn't think I’d be able to get out of there without doing something drastic.”

“We wouldn't want that,” Gluey replied.

“No, we wouldn't,” Trixie whispered.

The hug lasted a moment longer before Trixie squeezed one final time and took a step back.

“Well come on. We better start getting ready for bed,” Trixie declared.

“Ahh yes, the floor. We meet again,” Gluey muttered bitterly.

The duo clambered into the back of the wagon.

“Actually,” Trixie began. “I was thinking you could squeeze into bed with me.”

Gluey blinked, his face becoming beat red. “I uh… thought it was too small.”

“Well, I mean. It is,” Trixie agreed. “But I think if we try we could both fit on there. Don't get any funny ideas though. I just wanted to repay you for what you did. This isn't an invitation for any hanky panky thank you very much.”

“That's a relief because I don't know well I would have done, given how exhausted I am,” Gluey stated.

Trixie chuckled. “You’re telling me. I’m too tired to even flirt. Come on.”

Gluey followed the mare as she slid into the small bed at the foremost section of the wagon. Though cramped, there was indeed enough room for the two of them to fit in next to one another. It was tight, however, with their sides pressed firmly together, and little space to spread out or move. Despite that, Gluey couldn't help but feel incredibly comfortable, his aches and pains melting away as he lay there.

“Goodnight Trixie,” he whispered.

“Goodnight Gluey,” Trixie whispered back. “And thank you again.”

“It’s,” Gluey paused to yawn. “No problem.”

Author's Note:

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