Ch10 Settling In [edited]
Jake and the Kid
Chapter Ten
Settling In
Nobody said anything about another stallion, Jake whimpered to himself.
The newly minted Alicorn was hiding under the hayloft, his huge coal-black frame shielded on the front by a heap of tumbled bales, like a foal during his first lighting storm. The over-sized colt had even mottled his new wings up over his head to better hide.
The reasons for his behavior was an angry red stallion on the other side of his shelter who was currently arguing with Applejack. Jake was scared to death of stallions. As far as he was concerned each and every one of them was bug-nut crazy! There were hardly ever any at the boarding stable. When there was one or more, he or they were always kept segregated from the mares, geldings(1) and each other. On the few occasions that Jake had visited the stables while a stallion was in residence, each and every pony of them had kicked up a huge fuss, slamming into their stalls or trying to jump over a fence to get at him, all the while screaming a challenge at the top of their lungs. They were vicious beasts and dumb as stumps to boot. Impossible to reason with.
Not that the mares or geldings back home had been any smarter, or in some cases pleasant. In the case of their nasty temperaments, however, it had more to do with personal space than the apparent desire to see him stomped into the ground. It wasn’t just that they could not talk, he couldn’t either, not then. Unlike the other ponies, however, the words had always been in his head. Maybe not so clear as they were now, but there all the same. He just hadn’t been able to get them out. The same could not be said for the mares or stallions he’d known before. He had never seen a single indication that they had any true understanding of any words beyond, dinner is served. He didn’t know why this was, but it had made his already lonely life even more solitary. He hadn’t just been separated from the other ponies and horses because of where he lived, he’d been separated by his mind as well.
Jake had felt like he’d arrived in heaven when he had met the six mares and the not scary dragon at the big stone barn. While some of them had acted a bit like the mares back home at first, what with the fighting and kicking, in the end, they had all welcomed him warmly. They even gave him a cake! A cake that had been even better than the delightful sugary sweet confection that made him drool so much when Curry snuck him out a piece on rare occasions. He could still smell it ever so slightly, from the frosting that had gotten stuck up his nose.
He had felt so comfortable and happy that he had forgotten that where there were mares, stallions would not be far behind. That point had been rudely driven home when the big red stallion had rushed into the barn just as Jake was enjoying his first ever hot shower. The stallion had yelled at Jake, calling him a Sister Seducing Sales-pony, and threatening to get his shovel if Jake didn’t clear off right this instant.
For some reason when Jake had looked over his shoulder in a panic the stallion had stopped yelling and skidded to a stop, all four hooves digging furrows in the barn’s wooden floor. Jake hadn’t wasted the chance offered. In his rush to escape, he had scrambled up and over the bales of hay directly in front of himself, only to find the overhead hayloft did not allow him room to stand up straight. With nowhere else to go he had trapped himself in the back of the barn.
Frightened and scared, and with no big sister around to save him or tell him what to do Jake had huddled into as small a space as he could manage with his big body and awkward wings.
Salvation had come in the form of Applejack, who started yelling at the stallion. Jake had felt a huge sense of comfort as he realized that a grownup was here to deal with the situation. It didn’t even cross his mind that the grownup in question was only a third his size. Curry was only a twentieth, and he had never had reason to doubt her ability to keep him safe. His ears, which had been flattened against the side of his head, pricked up as he listened to the conversation happening on the other side of his protective wall of hay.
Big McIntosh reared back slightly as his smaller, but fiercer, younger sister got up in his face. ‟What the hay do you think you’re doing, Big Mac?”
‟Saw him taking advantage,” Big Mac said, glaring toward the hay bales the cowardly stud had jumped over. ‟Not gonna stand for it,” he added, grinding his teeth and trying to ease around his innocent sister to get at the con-pony.
Big Mac had been shocked into halting his charge when he’d seen the horn the big black Pegasus had been sporting. He cursed his gullibility which had given the cad a chance to escape. Luckily the idiot had trapped himself good and proper. So as soon as he could get by his poor besotted sister, he’d be able to have a proper discussion(2) with the scoundrel. The nerve of him! Pretending to be royalty to fool foolish farm fillies. Unlike his sister, Big Mac had realized once he got over his surprise that the horn was obviously a fake. There never had been an Alicorn Stallion, and one wasn’t just going to pop out of thin air. It was clearly a trick of some sort, and given what he’d caught Applejack up to with the faker, it didn’t take any great mind to figure out what, or more specifically who, the snake-in-the-grass was trying to get.
‟Would you settle down?!” Applejack yelled up at her oblivious big brother. She reared up on her hind legs and planted her hooves against his chest, but he simply shoved forward, forcing her to twist to the side or get pushed over on her back.
‟Darn it! Big Mac! Listen to me!”Applejack swatted her big brother across the jaw with a hoof.
Big McIntosh stumbled, more from shock than the power of Applejack’s hoof-slap, though it hadn’t been a gentle pat by any measurement and could have easily knocked a lesser stallion out cold. Like any little sister, Applejack knew just how hard to push a point with her big brother.
"Sis,” he said while rubbing his jaw and giving his sister a wounded look.
‟I don’t know what the hay is running through that mind of yours', Big Mac, but I’m here to tell you that Y'all are bucking acorns and not apples,” Applejack said fiercely as she positioned herself once again between her big brother and the hay bales Jake was hiding behind.
‟You ain’t thinking straight, sis. That con-pony has you fooled. If’n you just think, Y'all will see he’s too good to be true,” Big McIntosh ran down with a gasp, having spoken more words in one go than he usually got out in a day.
Applejack closed her eyes and gave a huge sigh as if gathering strength. ‟As I just said, Y'all are bucking the wrong tree. Last night Twilight got a message from Princess Celestia telling her to go into the Everfree and gather up Jake here, and his friend. We all went along to lend a hoof. Princess Celestia, her own self asked if we’uns could put up Jake for a few days till she all can get things fixed up all right and proper like. Jake’s friend is over at Fluttershy’s place.”
Big Mac had pretty much exhausted his word quota so he settled for scowling at his little sister while casting a venomous look at the soapy brush which still had a few of Jake's hairs sticking out of the suds.
Applejack was used to carrying the brunt of conversations with her brother and had long ago learned to translate his body language into the words he didn’t say. ‟No! You know darn well the Princess didn’t go and tell me to give Jake a scrub down. He was dirty and scruffy from the Everfree forest and hadn’t used a hose his own self.”
‟Hmmmphh,”
‟I don’t care if you think it’s a ‘likely story’ it’s the honest truth.”
‟Fooled.”
‟I ain’t been played for a fool.”
‟Slicker.”
‟Oh, now you’re just catching at straws, Big Mac. Since when have I ever let a city slicker get the best of me.”
‟Flim and Flam.”
‟There, right there you see. We’uns showed them what was what.”
‟Not what I meant.”
‟Ain’t you ever going to let me forget that? Ok, I admit. I let them snooker me into making that darn foal bet. But we beat them fair and square. They didn't get our farm or our apples and they never will.”
Big Mac nodded toward the hay bales Jake was cowering behind. ‟Not after apples.”
Applejack went red. ‟How dumb do you think I am?”
Big Mac shrugged. ‟Not the first.”
Applejack had stood just about all she could stand. Big Mac might be her big brother, but there were lines. If there was a way for a pony to spit fire, Applejack could have burnt the whole barn down as she lashed into her brother. "You consarned idjit! I ain't no silly frilly city mare! Are you saying the Princess got fooled by this here innocent big lug? 'cause if you are, I'm taking that shovel away from you and knocking some sense into that rock you've got perched on yer neck! Now BACK OFF!"
Behind his concealing hay bales, Jake’s ears pricked up in curiosity. The conversation between Applejack and her brother was reminding him an awful lot of the talks he used to have with Curry before he learned to actually talk. Well, not the part about foals, but the way Applejack seemed to be supplying most of the words. True, the big red stallion could talk, but he didn’t say a whole lot. Applejack seemed to be filling in a lot of blanks, just like Curry had been inclined to do. The stallion also wasn’t foaming at the mouth and shoving Applejack aside to get at him. That was a hopeful sign. Maybe the stallions in this place were only a little crazy.
Applejack snarled when her brother gave Jake’s hiding place another pointed look. This was getting ridiculous, and the argument was taking them down a path she wasn’t interested in discussing with her big brother, and which had no bearing on the current situation at all. ‟Will you stop with the lecture. I ain’t interested in Jake like that. For corn’s sake Big Mac he’s only--”
‟What in thunderation is all the ruckus out here,” a creaky old voice hollered from outside the barn. A moment later Granny Smith wobbled into view, her face twisted up into a ferocious scowl.
Big Mac gave a relieved sigh, reinforcements for his side. He wasn’t one for carrying tales, but this was a family matter, so he only felt a twinge of guilt when he said, ‟City slicker, messing with Applejack.”
Granny Smith was just as good at translating her grandcolt’s laconic mode of speech as Applejack.
‟Some good looking slicker was putting the moves on Applejack, and she was falling for his line?”
‟It ain’t nothing like--” Applejack started to protest, but was cut off before she could make any sort of explanation.
‟Yee-haw, that’s fifty bits that Red Gala owes me,” Granny Smith cheered, but then she got a thoughtful look on her face. ‟This city slicker, he was a stallion, right?”
‟Eyup,” A slightly flustered Big McIntosh said. He had not expected this reaction.
Granny Smith did a hoof pump, and in a dismissive tone said, ‟Two wedding dresses, as if.”
That comment broke a lot of the tension in the barn and Big Mac muffled a snicker with his hoof, earning him a dirty look from his sister, who was looking a might flushed.
Applejack simmered but kept her mouth shut. The last thing they needed was to plow even further offline. They were already in danger of running the furrow in a circle as it was.
‟So, let's see the critter that finally got your attention, Applejack,” Granny Smith demanded. ‟Call him on out here so we can have a good look.”
Applejack was not in the mood to break things gently to her family, so with no attempt at explanation, she turned toward the stack of hay bales that were shaking slightly in the late afternoon sunshine. ‟Jake? Sugarcube, you can come on out now.”
‟Is the stallion tied up good? He ain’t going to hit me with a shovel, is he?” came from the other side of the bales in Jake’s basso profundo voice. As always, Applejack found it a bit hard to work her mind around the disconnect between Jake’s young speech pattern and that rumbling bass voice that seemed to draw warm shivers up her spine.
Granny Smith glared up at her large grand pony. ‟Big Mac! Do you mean to say you tried to chase off the first stallion your sister has shown an interest in? I swear, I’m near on this close to sending you down to the creek to cut a willow switch.” She turned toward the hay bales and said, ‟You don’t need to worry about Big Mac, young’un. We got him in hand. You just come on out here and let old Granny Smith get a look at you.”
Jake wasn’t so sure of that, but in the back of his mind, he could hear Curry calling him a big fat coward. The thought of what she would say if she had to come to the farm to lure him out drove him up onto his hooves to carefully stand up under the low ceiling of the hayloft. Unfortunately Jake did not take into account his brand-new horn. As he stood up, the sharp point drove through a gap between two overhead planks, trapping him as neatly as if he had been lassoed. Jake panicked and wrenched his head around. He felt a brief pain at the top of his head and heard a loud crack. A second later a pair of oak planks that had been yanked out of place bounced off him, along with several hundred pounds of hay, as his horn came free. Blushing heavily, Jake shook off the debris and carefully worked his way up and over the bales of hay that separated him from the other ponies. It was a lot harder to do when he wasn’t in a blind panic and simply diving for cover.
Granny Smith’s eyes went wide as the massive black stallion gingerly made his way out through the ruins of the hayloft. She might have been an old greyish green mare, well past acting on such foolishness, but she could not help but run appreciative eyes over his large, muscular form, not neglecting to take into account his large wingspan and the long, sharp horn jutting from his forehead, which had just demonstrated its toughness in a most graphic way. She didn’t bother herself with little things like his existence being flat out impossible. Her mind was wholly focused on the fact that this hunk had finally gotten her grandfilly interested in stallions, and that Big Mac had done his best to chase him off.
‟Big McIntosh, you head right down to the creek this instance and cut some willow switches. Nice thick ones,” Granny Smith ordered, not taking her eyes off of the vision of masculine pulchritude that had by now made his way clear of the hay and was standing nervously in front of them.
‟Yes’m,” Big Mac answered in a distracted tone of voice. He had witnessed what Jake’s entirely real horn had done to well-seasoned oak planks. All his doubts had disappeared. Hard as it was to believe, he was looking at a real live Alicorn Stallion. Much as it went against his grain, he was a loyal son of Equestria, and thus he dropped to one knee as he bowed his head forward in respect. Despite this, he vowed to himself that if this prince treated his little sister as bad as that Prince Blueblood had Rarity, there would be a shovel in his future. And they’d see just how tough that horn of his really was.
Granny Smith restricted herself to the merest suggestion of a curtsy, sore knees and back would allow no more.
Applejack smiled a bit at her relative’s reactions. But, amusing as it was after their earlier antics, it was far past time for proper introductions to be made. She looked up at the black stallion who was looming over her, ironically in an attempt to keep her between him and Big McIntosh. ‟Jake, I’d like you to meet my Granny Smith, and my brother, Big McIntosh. Granny, Big Mac, this here is Jake, he just turned five last week.”
Granny Smith and Big Mac were in the process of saying hello when they both stopped and gave Applejack a look that said they were sure she must have misspoken, or in Granny Smith’s case, misheard. ‟Say what? These old ears don’t hear like they once did. How old did you say this handsome prince was, Applejack?”
After all the comments about her lack of sense, and likely romantic interests, Applejack was enjoying herself and had a broad smile on her face as she answered her Granny. ‟Why, I said he was five. Ain’t that right, Jake?”
Jake nodded his head up and down vigorously. ‟Yep, yep. I’m five whole years old. I had a party, with cake!” he added, a note of pleased amazement in his voice. ‟I’ve never had a party before.”
‟Shhhhh!” Big Mac shushed Jake out of instinct, looking around frantically. Only when a pink party pony didn’t spring out of anywhere blowing a horn while shooting off a confetti canon did he relax. He liked his sister’s friends just fine, but Pinky Pie could be a bit nerve-wracking for a laid back fellow like him. She was best in very small doses, preferably once a year, at the most.
Granny Smith was shaking her head. ‟Someone surely is pulling your leg, Applejack. How can you believe this fine young stallion is only five? Look at him, he’s at least as old as you are.” Granny Smith added action to her words by giving Jake a long, slow look that made the black stallion hunker down behind Applejack even further than he already was.
‟I can’t believe you two have forgotten what Trixie did so soon,” Applejack replied. ‟Don’t you remember how she fiddled with Snips and Snails?”
‟You saying someone magicked Jake from a colt to this?” Granny asked, in a tone of voice that contained more than a hint of skepticism.
Applejack’s innate honesty forced her to reply, ‟Well not exactly like that. But some pretty powerful magic was involved. Twilight is sure that Jake and his friend Curry came here from another place, and back where they come from, ponies just naturally mature a whole lot faster than they do here. Well physically anyway.”
‟Horse-feathers,” Granny Smith snapped out. ‟That filly spends too much time with her nose in a book and not enough time with her hooves in the dirt.”
Big Mac nodded his agreement while giving Jake a look that said, Alicorn or no Alicorn, he would have no truck with fakers on this farm.
That was when the palomino earth pony played her trump card. ‟That party Jake had? Pinkie threw it for him. Provided the cake and everything.” Applejack paused for a moment, and then added, ‟The cake had five candles.”
Both Big Mac and Granny Smith looked like someone had hit them over the head with one of Big Mac’s larger shovels. They turned looks toward Jake that had shifted from speculative and antagonistic to sympathetic. ‟Why the poor thing. He should be out playing with his colt friends, not stuck with an adult’s body and responsibilities,” Granny said.
‟Eyup,” Big Mac put in, feeling more than a touch guilty for the way he’d been acting. The big black stallion wasn’t a lily-livered coward, after all, he was just a scared colt tossed into a world he wasn’t ready for yet.
‟Mind you. I still think your friend Twilight is bucking up the wrong tree. You wait and see, it will be some foolish Unicorn like that Trixie her own self, who’s responsible for this. But, if Pinkie Pie says he’s five, then five he is,” Granny said.
Big Mac looked over his sister at Jake, meeting his eyes. ‟Right sorry,” he said. He looked down at his sister, and over at his Granny. He wanted to say more, offer the colt a comforting shoulder for support in his situation, but he wasn’t about to embarrass Jake by having a talk like that in front of a pair of mares. ‟Go for a walk?” he asked while indicating the barn door and the yard on the other side.
Jake looked at the big red stallion with a wary eye, but at the same time, there was a bit of hope in his chest. Was it possible he could be friends with a stallion? He looked down at Applejack, his eyes filled with his doubt.
‟Go on with you. Going to take a bit of time to get dinner ready. You have a chat with Big Mac. He’ll help you wash up when you get back and bring you up to the house, all safe and sound. Won’t he?” she said in a firm voice, looking her brother square in the eye.
‟I reckon,” Big Mac drawled. He looked over at Jake and again nodded toward the door. ‟Coming?”
‟Yes,” Jake said eagerly, his doubts fled. He started to trot toward the door and then paused looking over at Big Mac, and the horse collar the big stallion was wearing around his neck. ‟I forgot,” he said, hurrying over to where he had been getting a shower earlier. He located his own horse collar where Applejack had set it out of the way. Sticking his tongue in his cheek as an aid toward concentration he focused very hard and carefully picked up the collar with one hoof while bowing his head down. He was just about to loop the heavy appliance around his neck when it slipped free of his hoof and fell to the ground.
‟Let me help you with that,” Applejack offered and started to move toward Jake, only to be brought up short by her brother who put a restraining hoof on her shoulder.
‟The colt can do it. Can’t you?” big Mac asked Jake.
Jake had been burning with embarrassed frustration, but at Big Mac’s words, his eyes brightened and he replied, ‟Course I can!” This time he slipped the collar around his neck with no fumbling and stood up triumphantly.
Big Mac gave him a nod of acknowledgment for a task well done. At the same time, there was a look of curiosity in his eyes. What in the hay was an Alicorn doing with his own horse collar? Even if their magic didn’t make such things unnecessary it was unlikely a royal ever had to lift a hoof to do manual labor. And it wasn’t some sort of affectation. The collar was well worn, and he could tell from the wear marks on it, and the faint calluses on Jake’s hide that the colt had spent a lot of time wearing it.
Big Mac, with Jake in tow, headed out of the barn and across the yard, heading for a section of the farm he hadn’t yet visited today. If he was going to go for a walk, he might as well get a bit of work done at the same time.
Jake looked back over his shoulder as he left the barn, and was given an encouraging wave from Applejack. He looked over at the large red stallion, a worried frown on his face. ‟Mr, boss, chief, Big McIntosh, sir?” he said in a questioning tone. (3)
‟Eyup. Just Big Mac is fine,” the stallion said, turning his head to look at Jake as he continued to walk.
‟Mr... Big Mac, IwontstealyourmaresIpromise,” Jake got out in one long burst.
Big Mac stumbled and turned an incredulous look toward Jake.
Jake hurried on, wanting to clear up any possible reason the red stallion might take him in dislike. ‟Curry said the reason the other stallions were always so mad was that they thought I’d steal all the mares from them. I don’t understand. Why would they want all the mares to themselves? We could have played with them together just fine. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I won’t steal Applejack or Rainbow, or Pinkie or Twilight, or Rarity, or Fluttershy, from you. Cross my heart, I promise. Only, can I still play with them sometimes, please?”
Big McIntosh was turning even redder than usual and he reminded himself that he was talking to a colt who had no idea the sort of things he was implying. ‟Don’t mind sharing,” he finally said, not really feeling up to a more involved discussion on the subject.
Jake had been strolling after Big Mac while he talked, his large hooves kicking up clods of moist earth as they crossed the barnyard. Big Mac paused, looking at the several pounds of soil that had accumulated on Jake’s hooves after only a few steps. He happily took hold of something that would divert Jake from the uncomfortable subject of ‘playing’ with mares. ‟Look here,” he said, lifting up his right leg and showing a hoof that was only a little dusty. Jake obeyed, but with a puzzled expression. Having got the colt's attention Big Mac lowered his hoof and ground it into the dirt. When he picked it up it was just as caked as Jake’s hooves. ‟Watch,” he said, and a moment later the large clods of dirt simply fell off. To drive home his point Big Mac lowered a hoof and picked up one of the clods, and then a moment later let it drop free.
Jake’s eyes widened with understanding. He picked up his left hoof and frowned. A second later the majority of the dirt clumped on it fell away. ‟Cool!” Jake enthused and repeated the process with his other four hooves.
Big Mac gave him another approving nod and resumed walking toward his designated apple orchard. Jake followed behind his head down and watching his feet intently, focusing on letting go of the dirt that tried to stick to his hooves. It gave him a mincing step that was more than a little humorous on a pony his size.
So intent was Jake on watching his own feet that it took him a few moments to realize that he was walking past trees that were just about sagging from their loads of large delicious apples. Jake had been grabbing bites of dried grasses all day, and mostly dropping them half chewed due to the taste and texture just not feeling right. As a result, he was more than a bit hungry. And even if he hadn’t been, there was always room for apples, no matter what Curry had to say on the subject. Only his promise to be good kept him from trotting over to the nearest tree and stripping it bare. That did not keep his stomach from letting out a loud gurgling rumble.
Big Mac cocked an eyebrow at the large colt with the hungry look on his face. He looked over his shoulder at where Granny and Applejack were disappearing into the house. Granny especially, tended to get a bit cranky about ponies spoiling their appetites. Seeing as how the coast was clear, he gave the nearest tree a thump with his right front hoof and then caught the two apples that fell with it. He offered Jake one, and while the colt ate the whole thing in one bite, took a chunk out of his own as he continued to stroll further into the orchard.
‟How’d you do that?” Jake asked excitedly. ‟How’d you make the apples fall like that? How you’d make only two fall? Did you mean for only two to fall?”
‟Shush,” Big Mac admonished him. ‟Watch. Think. Learn,” he said, repeating the words his own pa had said to him so often.
The two stallions came to a tree with several bushel baskets next to it, along with a cart. Big Mac placed a hoof against the tree and then gestured for Jake to do the same. Once the colt had done so he said, ‟Feel.”
Jake wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to be feeling, but he did his best. After a moment it realized it was a lot like when he was trying to pick something up with his hoof. He had to feel it with his mind before he could do it. This was the same way, he could feel the tree in his mind more than against his steel-shod hoof. No matter how hard he tried, however, he could not separate the main mass of the tree from the branches, leaves, or apples. After a few moments, Big Mac nudged him to the side and turned so his backside was to the tree. He gave the tree a good solid kick with both his rear hooves. A cascade of apples fell from the tree into the baskets arranged around the trunk, nary a one missing to fall on the ground.
‟Wow!” Jake exclaimed in amazement. ‟Can I do that?”
‟Maybe. Someday. Not now.” Big Mac brushed a forehoof over the tree where he had kicked it, drawing attention to the fact that there was no damage to the bark. Jake looked disappointed, and Big Mac relented. ‟Takes practice. Some dead trees up this way. We’ll see what you can do,” he said. He resumed his slow stroll, Jake following behind him, his eyes wide and eager to see what the stallion would show him next.
***************
Fluttershy was a big fat cheater!
Every youngster knows deep in their very being that the obsession adults have with unnecessary baths is a vast conspiracy to suck the enjoyment out of a kid’s life. It is, therefore, the duty of all kids to do everything in their power to avoid or minimize bathing wherever possible. Most importantly under no circumstances must you ever display the tiniest amount of enthusiasm for the practice, in case adults become encouraged and expect you to indulge in them even more often.
It was totally unfair on the part of Fluttershy and her friend Rarity to bring magic floating scrub brushes into the mix. Not even the stinging caused by Curry’s numerous scratches and scrapes being gently cleaned could distract her from the fascinating experience of being bathed via magic.
At least their magic healed up her scratches quickly. Despite the amount of blood streaked down her arm and legs, once she was cleaned up there was nothing under the dirt and grime except numerous fading welts.
Things didn’t improve in the least when Rarity retreated with the remains of Curry’s tattered clothing, muttering something about being forced to work with the materials at hand. This was when Fluttershy proved that there was no line she would not cross in her quest for victory by actively encourage a litter of young otter kits to dive in and share the tub with Curry. How could any kid fight against something like that? The answer. She couldn’t. Curry actually lost her battle against the bath so badly, she forgot the most cardinal rule of them all. She protested when Fluttershy held up a fluffy robe and told her it was time to get out of the water before she caught a chill.
Now sitting on a stool wrapped up in the hugely over-sized robe, she tried to gain back some of the ground she had lost by putting on a poor-pathetic-me expression as Fluttershy brushed out her damp mane and wrapped it up in a towel. Curry thought she was doing a fairly good job, right up till Fluttershy handed another towel to the otter kits and they all rolled up in one big squirming bundle right in front of her. Before the small girl could stop herself she was laughing at their antics.
***************
Rarity allowed herself a small smile around a mouthful of pins as she heard Curry laughing. Really, if you didn’t look at her you could easily believe her a normal filly. Unfortunately, the little mare wasn’t a pony. The fashion-obsessed Unicorn had been dismayed to see how little flesh the small filly sported on her bones. And her hide, so thin, with hardly the least amount of hair, except for the thick mane on top of her head for protection. She was horribly vulnerable to the simplest of injuries. The fact that Curry seemed to heal quickly, given the state of her scratches once Fluttershy and she had removed enough dirt to examine them, was beside the point. It could not have been pleasant acquiring them. No matter how faint they might be now, the amount of blood staining Curry’s old clothing proved that they had been fairly serious when she gained them.
Rarity focused on that vulnerability as she examined the fabric she had chosen for her first attempt at human garments. She needed to do that to keep from throwing up her hooves in despair. It was a bolt that the Cutie Mark Crusaders had ruined in an attempt at tie-dying. Originally it had been a soft yellow. It was now a hideous amalgamation of every color under the rainbow,except yellow, and a great many that nature would never countenance. But, and this was important, It would be soft against Curry’s delicate hide and offer protection against the elements. That was about all that could be said for it. The end result was going to be hideous beyond belief! Thank goodness no one beside herself and her friends was ever going to see it. Even that was almost more than she could stand to think of. By the time Curry had to make her bow in public Rarity would have created something much more attractive and she could burn this abomination so nopony would ever see it again. So she kept telling herself in an effort to retain the determination to continue. All Rarity needed now was some final measurements and she’d be ready to start.
‟Fluttershy, are you done with Curry?” Rarity called out as she levitated her cloth measuring tape from her saddlebag.
‟Oh my, yes. Do you need her for something, Rarity? I was just going to work on dinner,” Fluttershy replied, giving Curry a last soft nuzzle against the cheek before heading toward the kitchen area.
‟Wonderful. Curry, would you be a dear and let me get some measurements so I can get started on some new clothing for you?”
Curry had been raised by an elderly male. Her experience in regards to acquiring clothing had consisted of walking into a store, picking a few likely looking garments off the shelves, and paying for them. This had left her with a rather haphazard wardrobe, and normally little interest in fashion, but the idea that the beautiful white Unicorn was going to craft garments just for her tweaked her interest. It was almost like Rarity was her fairy godmother. The Unicorn’s magical ability only solidifying that idea. Imagining herself dressed in a beautiful princess gown produced by magic, Curry got up off her stool, gathered the voluminous robe around herself and trotted over to the white Unicorn.
Ten minutes later she was wondering if she would not have been better off running for the hills. Rarity had her standing on a stool, naked as a jaybird while she measured every single part of the small girl that could be measured. She even had Curry lift up one foot, and then the other so she could measure the length and width of them. It had been all Curry could do to keep her balance while not breaking down in giggles as the cloth tape brushed against several ticklish areas. The last thing measured was her hat size, or so Curry assumed as Rarity wrapped the tape around the top of her head.
Curry would not normally have minded standing starkers in front of a pony, but she had started to get more than a little self-conscious as Rarity kept up a steady litany of tut-tuts and, how-on-earths. The large curious group of critters who had formed an audience around them did not help matters either. Curry was ready to swear that they were discussing her shortcomings among themselves, and who was to say they weren’t in this place. At long last Rarity finished and allowed Curry to wrap herself up in Fluttershy’s over-sized robe again while she went to work with scissors and tape.
Rarity might not have been in the same league as the Fairy Godmother from Cinderella when it came to speed. She didn’t just wave her horn and clothing appeared in a swirl of magic, but in Curry’s opinion she put on a much better show. Fabric floated in the air, a pair of scissors joined them, segmenting them into neat patterns. Needles were threaded and danced back and forth through the various pieces of cloth with a speed that rivaled that of a sewing machine.
Curry lay on her belly, watching in fascination as her new clothes started to take shape in front of her. As she watched she idly ran her fingers through the soft belly fur of a full grown lynx who was sprawled on her back in front of the small girl, her furry legs sprawled out to the side, one of them in a cast. Curry had taken over this duty from a family of mice who were currently taking a break, small garden rakes laid on the floor beside them, as they played a cutthroat game of go fish with tiny playing cards.
Suddenly Curry’s nose twitched as the irresistible odor of pancakes floated through the air. Her stomach let out a loud growl and she pulled her attention away from Rarity’s magic show, and the lynx, to stare toward the kitchen. Fluttershy was balancing a large platter on her head, and heaped to overflowing on that platter were nature's perfect food: Pancakes!
‟Would you like to eat, Curry?” Fluttershy asked in her soft hesitant voice.
There was nothing hesitant about Curry. She was on her feet in an instant, and almost on her face as her feet tangled in her large robe. She gathered it up and hurried toward the table. ‟Would I ever!” she exclaimed, and then remember her manners and altered her words slightly. ‟Yes please, Miss Fluttershy. I sure would like some of those there pancakes.”
Fifteen minutes later Curry sat back from the table, her belly containing a dozen large buckwheat pancakes, a half a cup of butter, and enough maple syrup to float a small boat, as Old Ben had frequently complained. ‟Thank you, Miss Fluttershy, that was really good,” she said while licking her syrup smeared fingers.
‟No, no, no. This will never do,” Rarity said from behind Curry, her voice full of horror. A second later a damp cloth was vigorously scrubbing Curry’s face while two other smaller ones were doing similar duties on her hands. ‟We simply can not have you getting your new clothes all smeared with syrup before you even have a chance to try them on.”
Ten minutes later Curry was standing in front of a mirror examining her new wardrobe.
In the background, Rarity was all but dancing on her hooves while waiting for some sort of response from the small human filly. Rarity could not remember the last time she had been so on edge while waiting for a reaction from somepony to a garment she had just created.(4)
In her own mind, Rarity felt her worry was fully justified. The outfit she had crafted for Curry was practical to the extreme, and every bit as hideous as she had dreamed it would be. She had abandoned all hope of creating anything in the least attractive out of the material at hand given the situation, shortage of time, and an appropriate fire to throw the dreadful bolt of cloth onto. Unfortunately, unlike a pony, Curry could not run around without anything on for a few days while her clothing was prepared. For her, clothes were clearly a necessity. The small filly needed protection from the elements in a way that no other creature Rarity knew did. In addition, Curry also needed something that would help conceal her true nature, at least from a distance. Rarity was more than a bit afraid that she had tried to make the garment perform too many functions. She feared that the end result would do none of the things she had imagined for the simple reason that the young filly trying it on would refuse to have anything to do with it.
Curry had never worn anything like the outfit Rarity had sewn up for her. But she had seen something similar, in a dingy gray color rather than the wild camo type pattern of this garment. In a book called, ‟Where the Wild Things Are.” It wasn’t the princess dress she’d been half-dreading, half-hoping for. It was a pair of animal-themed footie pajamas.
The one-piece garment covered her entire body, including her feet and head. Only her hands and face had been left bare. There was a row of buttons running up from the waist to secure it in place. Something stiff had been sewn into the bottom of the feet, making them not unlike moccasin type slippers.
A hood had been sewn onto the back of the neck. Curry had pulled it up and over the top of her head with her new long, thick mane tucked through a hole in the back of her collar so it fell down the middle of her back. There were even fabric ears on the top of it, Curry idly noted in a daze. She turned herself slightly to the side and examined the fake horse’s tail dangling down from the waist nearly to her ankles. With one hand she fondled the ears on top of her head, and with the other picked up the fake tail.
There was no way, just no way. Not even on Halloween would she have worn something like this, not if she were as young as Jake. Not even with the prospect of garbage bags full of candy as an incentive.
Curry looked over at Rarity, fully intending to inform the Unicorn, thanks, but no thanks. Then she noticed how the white mare was biting her lip in anticipation of Curry’s reaction, her expression pretty clearly showing that she knew it wasn’t going to be positive. Curry remembered how generous Rarity had been when she really did not have to be. Fluttershy was off to the side, looking encouraging in a desperate sort of way. She’d been so kind, opening her home up for a weird stranger. On the floor in front of the shy yellow Pegasus, her pet, Angel Bunny, who had instigated her bath earlier was having near hysterics, lying on his back, kicking his legs in the air as he silently laughed nearly hard enough to make himself sick. Curry’s expression firmed into a steely gaze at the sight. There was no way she was going to let that carrot-eating, bath-promoting, little sneak think she was in the least bit embarrassed by this gift.
Before Rarity could react, Curry rushed over and wrapped her arms around her neck, giving her a breath denying hug. ‟Thank you! It’s the nicest thing anyone ever made me wear,”(5) Curry said, while out of the corner of her eye she watched Angel Bunny, and felt more than a little satisfaction at the look of stunned disbelief in the little stinker’s eyes.
‟Really?” Rarity said, her tone filled with skepticism. She quickly recovered, and added, ‟But of course it is, dear. I am the best dress designer in all of Equestria, after all. Just don't tell anypony I made it though, dear. It's only a preliminary design. I simply don’t have time to fill all the orders for the other ponies who would want one.”
‟It’s very... nice?” Fluttershy asked, from the sidelines, her tone making the statement more a question than a declaration of support.
‟Course it is,” Curry said, releasing her hold on Rarity. She did a few stretches, and to her own surprise found that she was able to move freely without any binding, and the soft fabric was warm and comfortable against her skin. Maybe it would not be too bad. Once again she looked at herself in the mirror and cringed. She tried to imagine herself a fierce, wild creature to no avail. Maybe if the fit was a bit tighter it wouldn’t look so much like sleepwear? No, she might as well face it, there was no getting around it. She was doomed to run around in footie pajamas. Oh well, what the hay, it wasn’t like there were any spoiled rich girls around to make her life a misery with their teasing.
**************
The Apple family homestead had a lot of room inside. It had been built to house a much larger family than the four ponies who currently lived there. There were more than a few vacant bedrooms, many with beds designed to hold two full sized farm ponies. Jake sort of draped over the sides and both ends a little, but it hadn’t kept him from falling asleep even as Applejack tucked him in as best she could. She gently brushed his mane away from his closed eyes and planted a kiss at the base of his horn before tiptoeing out of the room.
Big Mac and Granny were waiting for her in the hallway. ‟Make a good farm pony,” he said, nodding toward the closed bedroom door. There was no higher praise in his vocabulary.
‟Yeah, he would,” Applejack agreed. ‟He’s a good kid.”
"Yep," said Granny. "And I'll bet if’n I give him a task to go cut some willow switches, he'd remember it."
"Oops," said Big Mac with a blush.
"Oh, you never mind," said Granny Smith with a pat to the shoulder of the big red stallion.
Big Mac let out a relieved sigh.
"You can get 'em tomorrow.”
“Dang.”
*******************
It had been a very long day for Curry. Unlike with the Cutie Mark Crusaders, the only difficulty Fluttershy had with getting the small filly up the stairs to bed was in having to separate the slumbering little filly from the huddle of sleeping creatures in the middle of the floor. She’d had help with the task, however. Rarity had decided to spend the night to supply Fluttershy with a little moral support, despite the ever-present threat of animal hair in her pristine white coat. After all, it would be a perfectly good excuse for a spa visit.
Fluttershy gently tucked Curry in, giving her a kiss on the forehead as she hummed a lullaby. The lynx Curry had been petting thumped onto the bed beside her, agile despite her broken leg. She was followed by the otter kits and a few other critters who arranged themselves around the small filly. Soon all of them were asleep and Fluttershy withdrew from the room, a feeling of happiness filling her chest as she took one last look at the mound of slumbering critters and one little human filly.
Fluttershy was not a pony who liked surprises but finding the small lost human in the Everfree forest had turned out to be one of the better ones. Almost on a par with the day she had fallen out of Cloudsdale and discovered the wonderful world that was below it.
She happily looked forward to the new day and watching Curry make some of the same discoveries that she herself had all those years ago.
**********************
(1)Jake didn’t really understand what a gelding was. The only things Curry had to say on the topic was, “Never in a million years is it going to happen to you.” They looked like stallions, but they acted like mares, old mares mostly, and that was the way he tended to regard them.
(2) Said discussion to include a great deal of wear-and-tear on Big Mac's new shovel and the dishonest stallion’s soon to be even blacker-and-bluer hide.
(3)The last thing Jake wanted to do was offend Big Mac, so he threw in every term of respect he had ever overheard back home.
(4) It had been two days before, while the Mayor was trying on a new hat.
(5) Not technically a lie. No one had ever specifically crafted clothing for Curry before.
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4.bp.blogspot.com/-hlKdX9poahM/TWP0ZZgE-hI/AAAAAAAAAGA/gbO9tYOKy8s/s1600/Cute+Overload.png
peter, did my pancreas kill your family or something?
2903865
2903487
Yes!!! Those Shares I bought in big Pharma are going to skyrocket any day now.
Using Pinkie's parties as undeniable evidence for Jake's age just made the chapter. And Curry is a fast healer now? Interesting..
omg, the feels!
This is turning into quite a great read. Both Jake and Curry are excellent character's with a great set of defining traits. I can't wait until the two of them meet the CMC. I can already feel the d'aww's from here.
D'aaw! Big Mac teaching Earth Pony Magic.
That's so cute!
OTTER KITS! I LOVE OTTERS! THEY'RE MY FAVORITE ANIMAL! TOO MUCH CUTENESS!
4963459 I agree, cutest mammal ever
2903865
I like how Pinkie seems to have more authority to her actions than Celestia concerning the situation with Jake.
Uh-Oh ... Curry, you just revoked your child-card, you are an adult now. :p
This story is amazing. :)
Replace with "form"
your's
This is what I found for chapter 10 and at this moment I shall stop proof reading until you give me the all clear to do so, I can't help myself otherwise.
9429812
got them, though I used yours'
She's tempting fate rather badly with that statement.
Dirt is rather grim isn't it?
9781082
A fact of fanfiction life. You never get all the typos. -_-:::
9781082
Brace yourselves, looks like we're heading for grimdirt territory!
"affection" should be "affectation."
I'm really enjoying this story.
10064425
Thank you, and glad you like it.
TOO MUCH CUTENESS !!!!