• Published 25th Jan 2013
  • 6,441 Views, 229 Comments

Someone Came With Her - chromewasp



You keep sayin' somethin' about bein' male and "human" before you showed up in Appleloosa...

  • ...
17
 229
 6,441

Tricksand

Racking your sun-baked brain, you try to remember what you're supposed to do in situations like this. Wasn't it something about slowly lifting your legs and not panicking? You try just that, and to your astonishment...

Nothing happens at all. You're just as stuck as you were before, with the added benefit that now you're slowly sinking.

Apparently quicksand works differently in Equestria. You quickly forget the “don't panic” part. Eyes bulging with terror, you put all your might into raising your forelegs.

Ow!” a shrill voice squeals.

You blink. Obviously, heat exhaustion is starting to set in. You need to get out fast, so you try even harder to pull free.

“Ow! Stop that, you little No-Fun Fannie!”

With a low rumble, a mound of sand rises up in front of you. It has a face: two depressions near the top form its eyes, and a wide crevasse near the bottom forms its sneering mouth.

“Sheesh, can't you take a joke?” it says, sneering.

Meeting a sentient pile of quicksand with a bratty little kid's voice is hardly the strangest thing that's happened to you since landing in Equestria, but it still leaves you at a loss of words.

“I...what?” you stammer.

“Ugh, you are such a boring boreface. Why don't you go back to your boring friends in Boringtown?”

The sandy muck trapping your hooves begins to loosen. Resolving to leave and pretend this incident never happened, you try to step back onto solid ground.

The creature gives you a wicked smirk. Suddenly a giant tentacle made out of wet sand erupts from the ground, wrapping around your waist before you can give even a peep of surprise.

“Fooled you! Fooled you! Neener, neener, neener!” it taunts, relishing your fear as it wildly waves you through the air.

At this point you're starting to wonder what kind of cruel god watches over the universe. Is he sitting back right now and laughing his ass off? Or is he one of those Lovecraftian deities that inflicts horrible fates just for sheer hell of it? Considering the madness you've been through this afternoon, you're suspecting the latter.

The sand monster only laughs at your pleas for release. Its obnoxious antics go on for several more minutes, spinning you around and gleefully tossing you in the air before catching you with a sand-trampoline.

Its games aren't truly dangerous, but the same can't be said for the sun. By now your throat feels like it's lined with hot gravel. Your head swims, the world seeming to spin before your eyes. At best you have only a few minutes before you lose consciousness.

It's a pretty pathetic way to die, but you're too tired to try to struggle free, and you're quickly becoming too tired to care.

Suddenly you hear the sound of hooves galloping across dry ground.

“Put her down!”

The voice is firm and masculine. You weakly turn your eyes to the speaker: a white-furred unicorn stallion with a light green mane. His steel-blue eyes are locked on the monster, his mouth twisted in a scowl.

“Why? Is she your girlfriend?” the sand monster jeers. Obviously the taunt was aimed at the newcomer, but it stings you the most. “You're gross. I bet you want to get her gross girl cooties. Well, I'm not gonna let her go, so bug off!”

The unicorn's response is to fire a searing bolt of blue energy at the creature, instantly severing the tentacle it's suspending you with. You plummet plot-first onto the ground with an undignified “oof!

“Not fair!” the sand monster wails. “I'm gonna go tell my mommy!” Sobbing copiously, it oozes away from the two of you and off into the distance.

“Are you all right, miss?” the unicorn asks you. The term “miss” makes you want to cringe, but at this point you're just fighting to stay conscious.

You look up at him, your eyelids drooping. “Whadd...was...that?” you croak. Your voice sounds disturbingly faint and tinny.

The unicorn's eyes go wide. “Miss? Stay with me!” he cries, starting to levitate a water canteen out of his pack. “You need to--”

The world dissolves into a colorless haze.

Some indefinite span of time later, a high-pitched whine sounds in your ears. Strange fuzzy shapes swim across your vision, and for a moment you have no idea who you are. You have no name and no form, no memories and no sense of time or place.

Then the memories start to flood back, and all you can do is moan pitifully. The phantom sights and sounds fade away, replaced by harsh reality. You don't want to open your eyes.

You feel something being pushed against your muzzle. Without thinking, you purse your lips. Cool water floods down your throat, sweet and refreshing and wonderful.

Your eyes flutter open. A gray-bearded earth pony is leaning over you, watching you sympathetically from behind his ill-fitting spectacles. He's clutching a small canteen with his forelegs.

“Where am I?” you groan. You're lying on a soft bed in a small room with wood plank walls. Bright rays of sunlight filter in from the dusty windows, painting golden squares on the floor.

“The Appleloosa Clinic,” says the pony, offering you another sip from the canteen. His voice is gruff yet gentle. “'Mighty lucky we found you when we did, stranger. I heard you ran into one of those tricksand pits.”

“'Tricksand'?”

He nods sadly. “Awful things, they are. I don't blame you for not knowin' much about 'em.” He sighs and glances out the window. “You gotta watch yourself around these parts, stranger. Appleloosa has taken a turn for the worse.”

Your heart sinks as you ponder the doctor's words. It sounds like getting everything back in order is going to be much harder than you thought.

You both sit silently for a few moments as the desert wind howls against the window panes. The doctor awkwardly clears his throat. “Mighty rude of me to not introduce myself, miss. Name's Doc Tumbleweed.”

Miss. You're getting so incredibly sick of that word. It frays your nerves like a razor slowly slicing into a powerline. Fatigue has eaten away at your self control, and soon your mouth is moving on its own.

“Don't call me that!” you snap, your face suddenly feeling red-hot.

Tumbleweed is taken aback. “Pardon?”

Your anger finally forces its way free. “Stop calling me 'miss!'”

His eyebrows shoot upward in regret and surprise. The canteen tumbles out of his hooves, spilling itself on the floor.

“I'm sorry, miss—ah, heck! I'm sorry! I didn't mean no harm,” he stammers, wincing as he prepares for another angry outburst.

He looks so very weak and sad, and suddenly you feel ashamed of yourself. This almost causes you to lash out yet again, but then you realize how pointless it all is. Doc Tumbleweed's only sin was that he tried to be polite to you. How was he supposed to know what you'd been through?

Maybe you could tell him what happened. But would he believe you? To the rest of Equestria you're just a poor, strange mare suffering from the aftereffects of heatstroke.

“No, don't be sorry,” you sigh. “It's not your fault. I've been through a lot of bad things lately, and I just...snapped.”

“I see,” he says softly. “Do you wanna tell me what happened?”

You shake your head slowly. “Not yet, no. I hope you can understand.”

“Fair enough, miss—oh, darn it to heck, I did it again!”

“Don't worry about it,” you say, smiling weakly. You're not ready to tell him your whole humiliating tale, but perhaps there's still a way to get help.

“Listen,” you ask, “I know this is a weird question, but...is there anyone in this town who can break a curse?”

Join our Patreon to remove these adverts!
Join our Patreon to remove these adverts!