Tom lives an ordinary, boring, and unpleasant life. Day turns to night, and the cycle of insomnia continues. Until one day sleep comes, and Tom finds himself far from home.
Tom lives an ordinary, boring, and unpleasant life. Day turns to night, and the cycle of insomnia continues. Until one day sleep comes, and Tom finds himself far from home.
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The soft buzz of a vibrating phone caused one of the two dark shapes to begin stirring from within the cloth confines of their bed. A humanoid shape emerged a moment later and swiped the phone from the end table, swiftly turning off the alarm. With that done, the man emerged fully into the darkroom, shivering the moment the air hit his naked skin.
Feet found slippers, arms found a housecoat, and within seconds the man began to shuffle towards the door. Pausing just long enough to turn, and smile down at his girlfriend, the man considered waking her only to think better of it.
She was just so… serene. Her soft, slightly rounded features and gentle olive skin may not have fallen into the realm of traditional beauty but to him she was perfect. Even with the bit of added weight she always swore she’d lose, the woman was exactly what the man wanted out of life. Reserved in public, yet talkative at home, she didn't desire conflict, but neither did she run from it.
The man had to stop himself from kissing her cheek, refocusing his attention on the bedroom door. Slipping quietly into the hallway, he turned and closed the door behind him before proceeding to the bathroom. There he shed his housecoat and slippers, stepping onto the cold hard ground and immediately shivering.
He turned and glanced at his mostly naked reflection, a bolt of disgust immediately running through him. His body was rail-thin, almost skeletal in appearance, and devoid of seemingly any muscle at all. The sight made his thin brow furrow, and his green eyes narrow, his gaze pointedly turning away from the mirror.
He released a soft sigh and stepped towards the shower, arm extended past the plastic barrier. How water erupted from the head, and soon the bathroom was filled with a thin layer of mist. Minutes passed and the man emerged once more, drying himself quickly before donning the clothes he had set out the day before.
All but his work shirt, which he slung over his shoulder before approaching the mirror once more. Though the sights within bothered him, he tried not to think about how sharp his features were, or how long his nose was. Only the thin scraggly patches of brown hair poking out from above his lip held his attention for long.
With an angry grunt, the man grabbed a razor and removed the offending hair from his face in no time at all. He then ran a comb through his dark hair and combed it off to one side, taking time to untangle the knots his short sleep had left him with. Long, and flowing, his hair was a difficult beast to conquer, but doing so left him feeling proud, so he worked long without complaint.
When it was done, and most of it had been bundled into a ponytail, the man smiled for the first time that day. Even his reflection didn't look quite so bad, and he kept that expression even as he exited the bathroom.
Walking into the kitchen he immediately approached the fridge and gazed in on its meager contents. Nothing quite caught his eye, but then again nothing ever did, and after a moment of consideration he grabbed a few eggs. Adding to that were two slices of bread, along with some cheese and a bottle of hot sauce.
A pan was found, the oven was activated, and soon breakfast was on its way to being made. Just as the man had assembled his simple sandwich, he was surprised to see a sleepy woman appear from the hall.
“Emelia, what are you doing up?” he asked.
“I should be asking you the same. I thought you said you didn't have to work today,” replied the woman, who shuffled into the kitchen, revealing her voluminous pink pajamas.
“Ted asked if I could cover someone’s shift, and I didn't want to wake you,” he replied, sitting down at the small table with his meal.
“Tom, what were you going to do? Leave me a note?” Emelia asked.
Tom winced. “I wasn't really sure, to be honest.”
“Well now you don't have to worry about that,” Emelia explained as she walked over to the cupboard and produced a box of cereal.
“You really don't have to do that. Please, go back to sleep. At least one of us can enjoy our Saturday then,” Tom encouraged.
“What kind of girlfriend would I be if I made you suffer alone. Besides, you know I can't fall back asleep after I’ve gotten up,” Emelia replied.
Tom sighed and allowed his partner to kiss her on the forehead. “You are too selfless for your own good, you know?” he muttered.
“Then it's a good thing you’d never take advantage of that,” she exclaimed.
Tom chuckled, turning his attention back to his food. “So, how was your sleep?”
Emelia sat across from him, a bowl filled with colorful, sugary cereal sitting before her. “Oh, you know. Crazy dreams as per usual, and you?”
Tom grunted as he chewed on his sandwich, swallowing hard. “Shit. But what's new about that?”
“Does that mean you are finally going to get those supplements I recommended to you?” Emelia half asked, half demanded.
“Yes. I checked that the pharmacy near the bookstore has them. I’ll pick them up after work today,” Tom answered.
“Don't take that tone with me. I know that they aren't peer-reviewed but they helped me in the past, and my mother swears on the stuff,” Emelia pressed.
Tom held up his hands. “I get it. I'm not arguing with you. It's just… cherry extract? It seems like something that would keep you up, rather than put you to sleep.”
“It's not just cherries,” Emelia stressed. “There are other good, all-natural ingredients to help you fall asleep and stay asleep in there.”
Tom sat quietly for several minutes, merely eating his sandwich while his partner consumed the entire bowl of cereal.
“Fine,” he admitted. “I guess we’ll find out one way or the other tonight.”
“Maybe then you’ll finally be able to sleep for more than three hours at a time,” Emelia declared.
Tom grunted. “Here's to hoping. If this doesn't work I’ll have to talk to Steve and see if I can get some pot.”
“If this doesn't work I’ll grow the weed myself,” Emelia replied.
Tom chuckled as he finished the last of his meal and stood up from the table. “Now that I’d like to see. Editing articles during the day, and selling pot at night. Could I be your driver?”
“You sure wouldn't be the muscle,” Emelia retorted, shooting her partner a cheeky grin.
Tom laughed aloud as he dumped his plate in the sink, and made sure the kitchen was presentable. Just as he had finished piling the dishes in the rack he was joined by Emelia, who hugged him from behind.
“So…” She began. “Did you take next weekend off like I asked?”
“I uh. Couldn't,” he replied after a short pause. “Ted was taking it off and the owner wanted a senior manager on-site to train the new hires.”
“Not again,” groaned Emelia. “You can't keep letting him push you around. Ted’s got a full year less seniority but you always cave when he asks you for something.”
“He's the owner’s cousin. I can't help the nepotism,” Tom retorted, the man squirming uncomfortably in his partner’s grip.
“Nepotism or not, you have months of vacation and sick days saved up. You gotta start using them. Remember what happened last year?” Emelia continued, holding the man in his place.
“The owner will say he’ll pay them out or roll them over then won't do either,” Tom grumpily admitted.
“Exactly. So use em, or lose em,” Emelia pressed.
Tom twisted around in her arms and kissed her gently. “Fine, you win. I’ll take the next weekend off, and we can start planning some kind of vacation for August. How does that sound?”
Emelia smiled. “I think that sounds wonderful.”
“Now can you let me go?” Tom asked, eyebrows raised.
Emelia smirked. “I don't know. What's in it for me?”
“Another kiss,” Tom offered.
“Double it and you have a deal,” Emelia countered.
Tom rolled his eyes. “Fine, you drive a hard bargain.”
Emelia giggled as her partner peppered her face with kisses.
“Now then,” Tom began, the man retrieving his work shirt from the chair it had been hanging on and quickly throwing it over his undershirt. “Were there any other homeopathic drugs or sugar pills I need to pick up today?”
Emelia rolled her eyes. “They are not homeopathic, and no. You don't need to pick anything else up. But you should check in with your mother. She tried calling last night but you had finally fallen asleep so I muted her.”
Tom winced and ran a hand down his face. “Oh god, why would you do that? She's going to be insufferable now.”
“As if she wasn't already insufferable,” Emelia countered.
“Extra insufferable then,” Tom countered.
“You’ve heard it all before. She’s just going to complain that you won't become a lawyer,” Emelia exclaimed.
“I mean yeah, but if I don't listen to her every once and a while she’ll show up at the apartment,” Tom countered. “And no one wants that.”
“I’m still amazed that woman has so much time off given that she's one of the most sought-after defense lawyers in the country,” Emelia muttered.
“It's because she's so sought after that she has so much free time,” Tom reminded. “She barely has to work more than three or four cases a year in order to keep her mansion stocked with all the whiskey dad could ever drink.”
“Your family is so weird,” Emelia remarked.
“Tell me about it. I wish they were more like yours,” Tom declared, stepping over to the entrance and grabbing his shoes.
“What? Thousands of miles away in another country?” Emelia retorted.
“Honestly, yeah. Now if only we could figure out a way to make them switch places and then we’d all be happier. Your parents are great,” Tom murmured to himself.
“Hey don't be too hard on your mom. She just wants what's best for you, even if she is a little… forceful at times,” Emelia exclaimed.
“What she wants is someone to walk in her footsteps,” Tom countered.
“Still. At least then you wouldn't have to worry about money,” Emelia offered with a halfhearted shrug.
“If it meant I’d have to choose between the street and defending killers I’d find a nice bridge to live under tomorrow,” Tom whispered.
Emelia sighed as Tom stood straight once more. “Well, at least you have your principles.”
“It's all we really have,” Tom declared.
“Have a good day at work hun,” Emelia exclaimed, leaning in close and planting a kiss on the man’s lips.
“I love you,” whispered Tom.
Emelia smiled. “Love you too.”
Tom groaned as he stepped back into the dark apartment, his entire body shaking slightly as he leaned against the wall. His prim and proper appearance was gone, destroyed by a mix of sweat as well as spilled pizza grease. Even his shoes had been besmirched, dirtied by a particularly unpleasant customer who tried to throw coffee on him.
“Stupid jerks. If I didn't wear the mask I’d get fired. You can't just demand I remove it,” muttered the man as he angrily tossed aside the stained shoes.
“Tom is that you?” Called a familiar voice.
“Yeah it's me,” Tom muttered, awkwardly climbing back up and tossing aside his shirt.
“Oh goodness,” Emelia muttered. “What are you doing home so late?”
“Boss over at Darts called and asked me to pull an emergency shift. The new guy didn't show,” Tom muttered.
“And you didn't think to text me?” Emelia demanded.
Tom sighed. “I wanted to, but they scheduled me for immediately after my shift at the book store. I had ten minutes to get to the restaurant.”
Emelia shook her head. “Did you at least get something to eat?”
“Yeah. A prank caller ordered a vegetarian so I was able to eat that. It came out of my paycheque, but at least I had something for dinner,” Tom murmured as he entered the bathroom.
“Did you want to watch a movie or something after you’re out? Or maybe we could go get some ice cream,” Emelia offered with a hopeful smile.
“I think I’m going to go to sleep. Sorry babe but I’m pooped,” Tom murmured.
“It's okay. You got those pills though, right?” Emelia asked.
Tom nodded. “I’ll pop one as soon as I’m done.”
“I love you,” Emelia exclaimed.
Tom smiled. “Love you too.”
A man stared silently at the ceiling, body wrapped tight in blankets, and head nestled in the crook of a comfortable pillow. In the distance, he could hear the faint clack of a keyboard, and he imagined his partner correcting some journalist’s grammar. The thought brought a smile to his face, and he couldn't help but consider getting out of bed just in order to see her.
That idea didn't make it further than just an idle consideration, however, as his screaming muscles demanded he stay where he was. So the man remained in bed, his arms hanging slack at his sides as he continued to stare up into the dark.
At least the pill didn't taste half bad. He thought to himself, mind going back to the surprisingly large tablet he had consumed only a few minutes earlier. I wonder how long it will take to kick in.
He didn't have to wonder for long, as he soon felt his eyelids grow heavy, forcing him to close them, and finally relax. The second this happened the man felt himself slip away, and for once he fell asleep mere moments closing his eyes. He would have rejoiced if possible, though he would soon have far more pressing matters to consider than just sleep.
The man’s senses returned to him slowly, and one at a time, the first of which was touch. He could feel grass beneath his back, the warmth of the sun, and a peculiar lack of a few things.
First, he didn't feel his unmentionables or his hair, or at least it didn't feel quite like his hair. There were other minor discrepancies, but he tried not to think about those things at the moment. He was dreaming, of that, he was sure, and not only that but he was lucid dreaming, a thing he hadn't been able to do since he was very young.
When he inhaled through what felt like his nose, he sensed flowers, a lush field, and the close proximity of spruce trees. It was a pleasant aroma and one which relaxed him almost as much as the gentle embrace of the noon sun.
Releasing a sigh, he extended his arms behind his head. “This is nice,” he murmured.
Only to blink, and open his eyes. “That's not my voice,” he exclaimed.
Standing upright, the man immediately realized what was wrong, or at least he did after he fell over.
He wasn't human, he quickly realized, as his legs didn't bend that way, his spine didn't curve normally, and everything felt off. This realization would have caused him to panic normally, but this was a dream, and beyond that, it also felt kinda nice. After righting himself and looking over his new body carefully, the man realized that he was a quadruped.
Not only that but he was a griffon, complete with wings, talons, and even a sharp, hooked beak. Though tempted to check if he could fly, he decided to try that later, as right now he just wanted a clearer picture of his body.
Gazing down at himself once more, Tom found that his proportions were slightly… off. He would have assumed a griffon would be more like the ones he had seen in video games but he was barely taller than a nearby bush. That was assuming the bush wasn't twenty feet tall, but it seemed like the kind he frequently saw on hikes.
Not only that, but his coloration was much different as if someone had turned up the color on everything. His main body was a dark grey, but he had lighter stripes along his back legs, wings, and even the tuft of fur at the end of his tail. These last two things were mainly a darker grey that neared on black, contrasting with the majority of his body.
Only the tuft of fur on his neck was much different, being a light brown that was nearly the same shade as his bright orange forelimbs. He could also feel that several feathers on his head were slightly longer than what he thought would be normal, shading one side of his face.
“Kinda cool though,” Tom continued, flexing his new body curiously.
Sure it wasn't exactly like his old one, but there was still an odd sense of familiarity there. It almost felt natural in a way, though he chalked that up to the fact that it was all just a dream. Sense, logic, and reason werent exactly mainstays when it came to the unconscious, drifting mind after all.
“Let's test these babies out,” he muttered, flexing his wings.
The feathered appendages spread wide, revealing a remarkable wing span that felt impressive at least to him. After a moment to focus, the man flapped hard, his mind already imagining what it was going to be like to soar through the sky. That however, did not happen, and though he did get airborne, it was only for a few seconds before he tumbled right back to earth.
With catlike grace he managed to catch himself before his face met the dirt however. Quickly pulling himself back up the man turned and glared at his new appendages balefully.
“Aww come on. Every other dream I’ve ever had has allowed me to fly. With or without wings,” Tom muttered to himself.
Huffing bitterly, the man gave his body a once over and after finding nothing out of place, began to look around once more. This time he paid a little more attention to his new surroundings.
The first thing he realized was that he was on the side of a mountain, which was itself part of a rather long range. This range stretched on into the distance in all directions, while right before him lay a rich valley at the center of which was a village. Small, and pastoral, it looked like the kind of thing he would have seen in a textbook on the medival age.
He couldn't make out any shapes from this distance, but he could see that there were several fields, all of which contained animals of some kind. From there, it was just more forest, broken only by small cleared areas containing cottages or a few scattered clumps of structures. There was only a single major road, and it stretched on towards what he assumed was the north.
“Huh, neat,” he muttered. “My dreams were never quite this detailed before. I guess that weird pill really did the trick. I’ll have to apologize to Emelia tomorrow.”
He gazed down at the small stretch of grass that separated two giant walls of spruce trees, an idea already forming in his mind.
“Right now I’m going to enjoy this,” Tom silently declared to himself.
Extending his wings, the griffon began to descend the steep hill, slow at first, but he quickly gained speed. The feathered appedfnages didn't do much save for allowing him brief moments of weightlessness but that was fine. It was close enough to flight that Tom still felt the same rush he remembered from the dreams he had as a child.
“Woohoo!” he shouted, jumping from one small mound of rocks to the other, talons scraping against the moss covered stone.
His movements which had begun quite sloppy, and barely coordinated were beginning to grow increasingly dexterous. Within only a few minutes he had gained a strange level of confidence over his new form. With that confidence he raced down the hill, laughing and hooting as he reveled in the freedom of it all.
The sights took him back to a trip he took to the west coast, the smells reminding him of the many hikes he used to go on. The feel of nature beneath him was grounding, and exhilarating while the various scents tantalized his senses. Wild flowers, bright green moss, verdant fresh grass, and the ever present aroma of the trees sruounding him.
It was exactly what he needed after weeks spent doing nothing but commuting back and forth from work. The only plants he had seen during that time were the cactuses on his partner’s desk, and the one fake bush they had in the living room. Other than that there was nothing save for the dirty, half dead grass which sprouted up from between the cracks in the parking lot.
Even the air felt different here, and it filled his lungs with such vigor that even the burn of exercise didn't bother him. It was a little weird he was experiencing that last sensation at all, but he chalked it up to the dream being weird. Nothing really made sense, but that was part of the fun of it all.
A foriegn land, a foriegn body, the entire dream was strange, yet wonderful.
Landing atop a rather large rock, he looked out over the clearing with what felt like a wide smile on his beaked face. A talon plucked a small bright yellow flower and brought it up to where he felt his nose was. Inhaling the scent, he released another long sigh in a long line of increasingly length exhalations.
“This is exactly what I needed,” he muttered. “I just wish I had some company.”
As if answering his call, the man saw what looked like a large dog emerge from the edge of the woods. Its fur was a bit lighter, its eyes a little more narrow and its ears slightly shorter, but other than that it seemed like a dog.
“Puppy!” Tom gushed, leaping from his vantage point and gliding down to the ground.
The second his limbs were under him once more, the man began to run over to the large dog with a glint in his eye. His talons itched to run through the creature’s no doubt soft coat, and fluffy stomach. The mere thought made him giggle in excitement, having recalled memories of his childhood dog he hadn't seen in years.
His quarry didn't flinch until Tom was a dozen meters away, its entire body becoming rigid as it turned to fully face the griffon. The hair on the back of its neck stood up, a growl built at the back of its throat, and it spread its legs wide. Though its body language was clearly hostile, Tom continued to approach it, stopping when he was in arms reach of the creature.
“Hey buddy, don't worry. I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered in a low tone.
The wolf remained stock still, though the hair on the back of its neck did fall slightly. Seeing this as his chance, the man continued to walk forward, a clawed hand outstretched towards the creature.
“That's it, see. I’m just going to pet you. That's all,” Tom whispered. “Man this dream is great. First I sorta get to fly, now I get to pet a wo-”
The rest of what he had been about to say turned into a terrified scream of pain as the wolf’s jaws sunk into his foreleg. With a screech, the griffon tried to pull away but the wolf was larger, and stronger then he was. So it had little trouble holding onto Tom as the transformed human flapped his wings wildly and screamed.
“Fuck ow get away, what the fuck? How is- fuck!” he screeched.
The wolf growled, sinking its teeth deeper into the griffon’s flesh and causing a wave of tears to cascade down his face. It then shook its head from side to side, tearing apart the griffon’s muscle and causing an even greater wave of pain. With a fresh surge of agony came a sense of desperation which was great enough to overwhelm even Tom’s panic.
Lashing out with a free claw, he swiped at the wolf’s face but only lightly grazed the creature. Who in turn continued to shake its head viciously causing more damage and bringing forth another scream.
“Ahhh fuck!” Tom yelled.
This time he continued to swipe and claw, aiming for the creature’s eyes in hopes of making it release his foreleg. The fifth strike struck true, and with a yelp, its jaws opened, allowing Tom to retrieve the injured limb. He didn't have time to inspect the damage, but he knew it was bad from just a brief glance down.
Chunks were missing, his bone was visible, and he could barely even feel anything but pain from below his elbow. He didn't worry about that at the moment though, as he had already turned in a random direction and was running away. It wasn't exactly a very well thought out escape, as panic, adrenaline, an alien body, and a healthy dose of pain didn't make things easy for Tom.
That being said, his new form did seem to have the necessary instincts, so he didn't have to actively think about how to run with only three legs. His discordant flapping had also gotten under control, allowing him to add a bit of extra speed to his retreat.
A good thing too, as the beast was already snapping at his heels, its teeth still slick with his blood. The clack of its jaws snapping shut mere inches behind him made another surge of adrenaline course through Tom. Allowing him to push through the pain and leap out of range another bite aimed at his back left leg.
Tom dodged around a tree, leapt over a bush, then bobbed through a briar patch, somehow staying ahead of the wolf. It wasn't by much however, and Tom knew that if he didn't come up with a plan soon he was going to be the beast’s next meal.
Right, which direction was that town? Tom wondered. I think it was this way.
Slipping around the trunk of a rather large fir tree, Tom began running in the direction of what he hoped was civilization. His pursuer wasn't far behind, and worse still, Tom’s little shift in direction had made him lose a little bit of ground. That wasn't the only thing he lost though, as the wolf bit down on his tail, though thankfully it only caught the very end.
A quick tug removed the errant hairs, and allowed Tom to escape. Though the sensation of getting a fist full of his tail removed wasn't pleasant, it was nothing compared to what he was already feeling. So he sucked it up, bit back the tears, and put everything he had into getting further ahead of the beast.
Come on, come on. He thought to himself. If I don't find some way to lose this guy soon I’m dead meat.
Another patch of bushes was deftly dodged, a small creek was leapt over, and throughout it all the wolf remained mere feet away. Even when Tom ran over a fallen log to get across a larger stream, the animal kept hounding him without pause. It was enough to make Tom begin to lose hope and start to wonder if he should simply give up.
Then the wolf suddenly stopped, and Tom glanced over his shoulder to find that his pursuer was now standing stock still.
“Ha, stupid anim- aaah!” Tom shrieked as he plummeted over the edge of a cliff, his wings flapping chaoticly.
Through the panic and pain, Tom felt a strange series of urges that upon being headed, somehow managed to straighten his flight. Trusting those instincts seemed to be working, so after pushing aside the fear, Tom spread his wings wide. Only to bank hard to the right completely by accident, nearly sending him into the rock wall he had just leapt off the top of.
A twist of his body turned him back in the other direction, and allowed him to see that the town was much closer than anticipated. Not only that but he could see a cottage outside of which was another of his new race who was busy chopping wood.
“I just gotta keep it together until then,” Tom muttered to himself through a clenched beak.
Flying high above the treetops under his own power would have normally exhilarated the former human. Yet now it only made him feel weirdly tired, worse still his vision was beginning to blur. Even his wings started to go numb, and strength flooded out of him like the blood pouring out of his wounded forelimb.
“Just a little… further,” Tom murmured.
Angling through the tops of the trees, Tom aimed himself for the clearing in front of the cottage. Unfortunately for him, his wings were becoming harder and harder to keep raised. So much so that he couldn't stop them from falling slack at his sides, and dropping him the last ten or so feet to the ground.
“Fuck,” was all Tom could mutter before his chin bounced off the dirt.
He then flipped end over end before landing on his side and tumbling another few feet. Finally, with his momentum burned, and his entire body covered in bruises, he lay still, eyes searching for another face.
“What in the Tartarus is going on? Who the hell are you?” barked a voice in what sounded like english.
“Help,” Tom croaked, extending his wounded limb.
“Damn girl, what happened to you? Better yet, don't answer that. I’ll haul you over to the doctor,” he replied.
“Yes plea-” muttered Tom before his eyelids shut, and his body became too heavy to move.
“Help me, please you’ve gotta help me!” Tom woke up screaming, his body sitting bolt upright in the bed, his arm extended out before him.
His fingers immediately sought out the holes made by the wolf’s teeth yet he couldn't seem to find them. There was only smooth, pale flesh and the thin light hair that covered him from head to foot.
“What the heck is going on?” Emelia murmured.
The woman sat up, rubbing her eyes as she stared blearily around the mostly dark room. Only a thin few slats of artificial street light pierced the shades of their bedroom window, though it was enough to see. Tom’s eyes adjusted a moment later, and his mind caught up with his body, reminding him that he was no longer a griffon.
He was also not suffering from a severe wolf bite, nor was he lying bleeding on the ground in front of a cabin. Rather he was home, his arm was normal, and his girlfriend was looking at him as though he had just grown a second head.
“It was a dream,” he muttered faintly.
“It sounded more like a nightmare,” Emelia exclaimed.
“Whatever it was, it's over,” Tom remarked, falling back to the bed and spreading his arms wide. “And thank god for that.”
“What happened anyway?” Emelia asked.
The woman laid on her side, arm extended and hand placed against her cheek.
Tom merely shook his head as he stared up at the ceiling.
“It was the craziest thing,” he began. “I fell asleep weirdly quickly and then it almost felt like I woke back up right away, only I wasn't me anymore.”
“How many of those pills did you take?” Emelia pressed.
“The recommended dose, nothing more,” Tom assured.
Emelia hummed. “Maybe you had an allergic reaction to them or something. That might explain why you’re burning up.”
“Maybe,” Tom admitted. “Either way I wasn't me in the dream, rather I was some kind of cartoony griffon from a kid’s show.”
“That doesn't sound too bad,” Emelia muttered. “What happened after that?”
“Well it started off normal enough,” Tom began, his hand rubbing the spot where the wolf had bit him. “I found out I had wings, and that I was in this mountainous forested area so I tried flying.”
“Oooh, fun. You haven't had a flying dream in ages,” Emelia exclaimed.
“This wasn't quite that,” Tom warned. “I couldn't fly, but I could glide relatively easily so I just kinda did that. Hopping from rocks and stuff or gliding down the hill.”
“You didn't fly off a cliff or something did you?” Emelia asked.
“That wouldn't come till later, and that was actually a good thing,” Tom replied, glancing over at his girlfriend.
Emelia blinked. “That's… something. I’ll stop interrupting you then.”
“It's fine,” Tom continued, turning back to the ceiling. “So I was jumping around this clearing as a griffoness when all of a sudden-”
“I know I said I wouldn't interrupt but did you just say you were a girl?” Emelia inquired.
Tom blinked. “I mean yeah. That's not really the focus here though.”
“True, but that's kind of a big thing not to mention right away you know?” Emelia pressed.
Tom shrugged. “It really isn't that important. I had dreams where I was a girl tons of times when I was a kid and with this starting off as a lucid dream I thought it was a return to that.”
“Right, sorry. Continue,” Emelia offered.
“Okay so I was flying and hopping around and stuff,” Tom explained. “Everything was just so detailed and I could even smell the flowers as I sprinted through this field. It was wild.”
Tom lay there in silence, the fingers of one hand scratching at the spot where the wolf’s canine had dug deep into his flesh. After several seconds of silence, the man seemed to realize that he had been sarong off into space and shook his head vigorously.
“Okay so I came to the edge of this clearing and saw what looked like a big dog, so I approached it right?” Tom murmured, his voice falling quiet. “Bad idea. That was not a dog, but a wolf, and that was not a normal dream.”
“Did it snap at you?” Emelia whispered.
Tom shuddered. “Worse. It bit my arm and wouldn't let go no matter how much I screamed or tried to run. It just kept shaking its head and biting deeper and deeper until I could feel its teeth hit the bone.”
His face darkened, and his fingernails dug into his arm. “It was the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced. Worse than getting hit by that drunk driver when I was a kid. Worse even than that time I broke my leg at that soccer game. It was a million times worse than anything I’ve ever felt before.”
“I mean this was a dream though, right?” Emelia whispered.
“I don't know,” Tom murmured. “It didn't feel like any dream I’ve ever had before. It was all so real, and I could feel everything. His teeth digging through my flesh, my skin and muscle hanging off my body and dangling in the air.”
“Maybe you should just move on to what happened next,” Emelia quietly prompted.
Tom took a slow, steady breath and nodded. “Right, so I scratched the wolf in the face and ran away as fast as I could. Being down to three legs, and not knowing how to fly, I didn't exactly have a lot of options. I did my best, but I knew it was going to catch up to me eventually.”
“Which is where the cliff came in, right?” Emelia asked.
“Yeah,” Tom murmured absently, scratching his arm. “I just ran off the thing without even thinking, but it was like there was some little voice in my head that told me what to do. So I just trusted it and I straightened out in mid-air and began to glide down into the valley below.”
Tom slowly shook his head. “After that things started to get fuzzy. I had lost a lot of blood and I could feel my arms and legs begin to grow heavy. I needed to land somewhere before I went into shock and possibly died, but thankfully there was a cabin nearby so I kinda fell there before passing out.”
“That was… quite a dream,” Emelia exclaimed.
“You’re telling me. It was the worst moment of my entire life,” Tom remarked.
“But it was just a dream. Why I bet you’ll forget all about it in an hour,” Emelia offered in a hopeful tone.
“I don't know. That kinda thing it… doesn't leave you,” Tom murmured.
Emelia chuckled and punched the male’s shoulder. “Oh come on. Quit talking like you’re some kind of war hero. You just had a really nasty nightmare. If anything you should be focusing on the fact that you want to be a girl.”
“I don't…” Tom sighed and glanced over at the woman. “I think the more significant thing was that I wanted to be free, and get in touch with nature again. I mean when was the last time we went for a hike?”
“It's been years,” Emelia admitted.
“Exactly,” Tom declared. “That has to be it. I can't want… that. And that couldn't be real. It would be impossible.”
“Are you alright hun, you’re repeating yourself and…” Emelia sniffed the air, and after catching the scent of copper, glanced down at her boyfriend’s arm. “Tom, you’re bleeding.”
“What?” Tom muttered.
He glanced down at his arm, and immediately noticed the dozen or so deep scratch marks visible on his flesh.
“I wasn't paying attention,” Tom whispered to himself.
“Go,” Emelia commanded. “Get cleaned up, and pay more attention. You don't want it to look like you’ve been self-harming or something.”
“Oh yeah. Of course,” Tom muttered.
The man rose from the bed in a slow, robotic fashion, his movements clunky as he stumbled into a stand. Turning towards the door, he walked away, forgetting entirely about his clothes, or really anything save for the dream. He grappled with those memories with every step he took, reliving it over and over until each moment was burned into his mind.
Emelia said something to him, but he was too distant to even notice and walked out the door.
“Maybe a shower will help,” he thought aloud. “Yeah, that will probably do it.”
Tom stood silently at the till his gaze unfocused as he stared out into the bookstore he was managing. A hand scratched idly at his arm, while the rest of his body was completely stock still. He didn't even blink, merely staring at what few shoppers were visible amongst the rows of books.
“Hey uh, boss man? You okay?” inquired a concerned, masculine voice.
Tom blinked rapidly, clearing his eyes off the slight burning sensation that had begun to set into them. He then turned towards the source of the sound and found that a tall, gangly teenager with long black hair was staring down at him.
“Uh yeah. Just fine,” Tom murmured.
“Really? Cus it looks like your jonesing for another fix,” pointed out the younger man.
“Fix? What are you talking about?” Tom retorted.
The youth raised an eyebrow and pointed down to Tom’s arm. “You’re scratching like a tweaker, man.”
Tom blinked and glanced down to find that he had scratched open the recent scabs. Blood flowed down his arm and stained his work shirt. Cursing to himself, Tom rolled his sleeve back down and pushed his way past the new hire.
“I’m not a drug addict. Just had a really bad nightmare,” Tom muttered. “Would ya watch the till for a minute? I’m going to get a bandage.”
“Hey man, no judgment here. Whatever it takes for you to get through the day,” remarked the dark-haired male.
Tom sighed and made a note to do a drug test on the young man, only to swiftly ignore that urge. Regardless of whether he was on drugs or not, he did his job well and seemed like a good kid at heart.
No need to rock the boat. Tom thought to himself as he pushed his way into the back room.
Once there he swiftly located the first aid kit, pulled it from the wall, and popped it open. He then grabbed a roll of gauze, the medical tape, and was ready to wrap his arm before his mind began to wander.
“That can't have been real right? I mean that was all a nightmare,” Tom muttered to himself, gaze drifting down to his trembling hand. “I won't go back there when I go to sleep tonight, will I?”
The question hung in the air for nearly a minute before the male unwound the spool and began to bind his wounds. Once that was done a few tactical applications of medical tape secured the large bandage in place. It didn't look very nice, but at least now it could be hidden beneath his long sleeve shirt, provided said shirt was not stained with blood.
“Dammit,” he muttered. “This is never going to come out.”
With a sigh, the man walked into the attached bathroom and began to run the taps.
“This day just can't get any worse,” he remarked to himself.
Cars whizz past the left side of Tom’s vehicle, though the noise was mostly droned out by some pop song coming over the radio. The man didn't know the words, nor did he care about the lingering smell of pizza that emanated from his passenger seat. It all just kind of blended together to create a background noise that he barely even considered as he continued to think.
It was all so real, that can't have just been a dream. But those pills would explain everything, or they should. Would it though? I mean they are basically placebos so would they, or could they even do something like that? Tom thought, his fingers tightening around the wheel.
No. There has to be something else going on. That kind of pain isn't possible in a dream. Tom reasoned, his mind going back to the dream he had as a kid where he got in a fight with a giant Lex Luthor robot. Even if I imagined myself as having the powers of Superman, I got punched through the empire state building and that didn't hurt.
He knew that feeling pain in dreams was possible, but extremely rare, especially for him who had never experienced it before. He had all manner of dreams when he was younger, lucid, nightmares, even night terrors after his grandfather had passed away. There were even the odd adult dreams that he dare not speak about, nor even consider for more than a few seconds.
Yet nothing could have possibly prepared him for just how painful those few minutes had been. It was horrifying, and every time he closed his eyes he saw the wolf’s head wrapped around his arm. It was enough to make him consciously stop himself from blinking, lest he get transported back to that moment for a single terrifying instant.
He didn't even want to think about what it would be like to go back to sleep.
Will I be transported back to that place? Will I relive the same moment? What if it really was a fluke? Tom wondered. Maybe I should take Emelia’s advice and go to the doctor. They could just as easily test if it had been an allergic reaction.
He sighed. No, that would never be covered. The insurance company would probably just tell me that I was right for tossing the things and that I shouldn't have bothered with a test.
But I mean what are the chances it happens again? Tom mused to himself. It's not like I’m being transported to some alternate world through magic or something. That's ridiculous. I’m sure that this is all just a product of stress, or maybe-
The man’s thoughts were cut off when someone laid on the horn, alerting him to the fact that he had begun to stray into oncoming traffic. Tom jerked the wheel back in the other direction, setting him back on the right path, and out of the path of an oncoming semi. A few people honked in an effort to show their frustration but Tom was too busy panting desperately to even take notice.
“Note to self, pay more attention to the road,” he muttered to himself.
Tom paced back and forth in front of the door to his bedroom, a worried expression on his face. His hands occasionally balled into fists only to relax a second later when he realized what had just happened.
“Just go to sleep,” he muttered to himself. “Chances are it won't happen again.”
Yet despite his reassuring little pep talk, he felt absolutely no better about going to bed than he had a minute ago. Images of the wolf biting his arm returned, and this time they were not so easy to dismiss. Worse still, he could feel a phantom twinge of pain run up his arm, and he grabbed the limb tightly, his fingers digging into the gauze.
“Hey hun, you out there?” whispered a soft voice.
Tom sighed and pushed open the door to find Emelia leaning up in bed.
“Sorry about that,” Tom muttered. “I guess I’m still a little worried about… you know.”
“Turning back into a girl?” Emelia replied with a strained smirk.
“That and the whole getting mauled thing,” Tom replied.
Emelia smiled and pulled back the covers. “Come to bed. You won't know until you go to sleep and you will fall asleep eventually. At least if you try now you won't fall asleep while driving or something.”
The memory of his near-miss with the semi earlier in the day came to mind and convinced Tom of what to do.
“Right. Sorry, I’ll stop being silly now,” Tom murmured as he clambered into bed.
As soon as he was settled, Emelia gently grasped his face and pulled him into a short, but intense kiss.
“Don't apologize for feeling stuff,” she whispered.
“S-” Tom bit his lip. “Sandhiwches sound like a great supper option tomorrow.”
“That they do hun, nice save,” Emelia replied, squeezing Tom’s hand one final time. “Don't worry. I’ll be right here when you wake up and if I see that you’re having a nightmare I’ll wake you up.”
“Thanks, babe. I don't know what I’d do without you,” Tom muttered, giving his girlfriend's hand a squeeze back before releasing it.
“Lord only knows,” Emelia murmured before rolling over onto her side.
Tom sighed, and stared up at the ceiling, silently wondering if he was going to have to face another wild animal tonight. He decided that he would prefer fighting something smaller, like a duck, or maybe a cat, but not a cute one. He could probably sock a real ugly tabby provided it was coming right at him, though Tom knew he’d feel bad about it later.
If it came for my lasagna I could probably rock him one. Tom thought as he yawned. That's something I should make again. Maybe tomorrow after-
He never managed to finish that line of thinking, however, as he had been swiftly carried off to the realm of dreams. Or at least that's what he thought was happening, as instead, he found himself in an increasingly familiar body. One that was trapped beneath a mound of blankets in a house not his own, with a thick bandage wrapped around one forelimb.
“Fuck, not again,” he muttered as the pain from his injured limb began to radiate up his body. “Of course, I’m back here.”
Tom grit his beak as he felt the fresh wave of agony roll over his body, the sensations originating from his injured arm. It was incredibly unpleasant, but something told the man that it wasn't nearly as bad as it could be. There was a faint layer of film over everything, dulling his senses, while also lessening the pain he felt from the wound.
“Gonna need more of whatever the heck stopped the pain from being so intense pretty soon. Hopefully, it isn't morphine. I’d hate to get addicted,” Tom murmured to himself.
Glancing around the room Tom realized that he was in that rather primitive cabin he had seen from above. He could make out a few details through one of the two front-facing windows, like the large oak tree that he had nearly run into. There was also a small simple path that made its way up to the rather large covered porch that stuck out the front of the home.
That was about the only luxury the small house had, as the kitchen, dining room, and living area was all one single space. Tom could tell all this as he was laying in a cot that had been set up near one of the windows at the forefront of the home. From this angle, he could see most of the front yard, and a good amount of the home as well, including the other three rooms.
The trio of doors branched off from a hallway that started at the middle of the wall on the other side of the house and went back a few feet from there. Though he couldn't see a lot from his position, Tom could make out that one room had a chamber pot and a washbasin in it. Another was likely a master bedroom of some kind given the armoire he could see against the far wall.
The last space was less obvious, though it was definitely fairly small so Tom assumed it was either a child’s room or a pantry. As there wasn't any clear space to sock away any dried goods in the kitchen, given that there were only two small cupboards. The rest of the space was occupied by a wood-burning stove, a pile of cut-up logs, a rather simple table, and a few chairs. Nearby there was also a rather ratty-looking couch, as well as a card table that had seen a good amount of use.
Focus. What time is it, and what level of technology do they have? Tom thought to himself in an effort to direct his attention away from the pain he still felt.
He noticed that they had no manner of taps visible in the kitchen or the bathroom, meaning they likely had no running water. Though it was possible that they were simply too far from town, it didn't bode in the man’s mind. Furthermore, they had no clocks, nothing electric, or even a tool more complicated than a rather dull ax.
Ornamentation was also sparse, with the walls being mostly bare, though they had been lacquered at some point. The only thing that stood out was a couple of picture frames hanging near the hallway entrance. They seemed to depict two large families gathered together, and a third much smaller group of only three individuals. Everyone involved was a griffon like him, though their coloration varied considerably, ranging from bright blue to midnight black.
His musings were cut off when the door to the house opened up, and a towering male griffon walked inside.
“Wait outside a minute while I talk with our guest,” he whispered just loud enough for Tom to hear.
“Yes dear,” whispered a feminine voice from just outside.
The male then closed the door and walked over to Tom with an expectant look on his face.
“I saw ya movin around through the window, so I figured it's about time we spoke,” he began, his tone gruff, but not completely devoid of empathy.
“Feel free, sir,” Tom replied.
The griffon blinked. “Err okay. What happened to ya?”
“You likely already deduced this, but I was attacked by a wolf,” Tom explained, wincing slightly. “I dropped my guard for a moment and did something foolish.”
“Yeah that's what the doc and I were thinkin,” exclaimed the taller griffon.
Tom took a second to inspect his conversation partner a little closer, starting with his bright emerald eyes. The sight of which stirred something in Tom, though that feeling faded rapidly as his gaze traveled to the rest of the griffon. He was tall, wide, rippling with muscle, and was mostly a dark grey or black, with his feathers being slightly darker than his fur.
“Where are you from? Noone’s seen you in town before,” continued the other male.
“Pardon me, but before we continue would you mind giving me your name?” Tom interrupted. “I’m Tom.”
“Mine’s Gordon and yours is a bit on the strange side. Ain't Tom the name of a male chicken or something?” Gordon remarked, scratching the side of his head with a claw.
“I… don't know,” Tom admitted.
Gordon snorted. “It doesn't matter. Now answer my question.”
“I am not from around here, as you suspected,” Tom replied, pausing briefly as he considered what story to go with, and settling on amnesia. “In fact, I’m not sure where I’m from as the last thing I remember was waking up in the woods and that's about it.”
“Are you serious?” Gordon asked, his tone sounding accusatory, though his face was neutral.
Tom nodded. “I can't remember anything but my name.”
“Well, you sure don't seem to be lying,” Gordon muttered mostly to himself.
“I don't think I’m very good at it sir,” Tom replied with a shrug. “I tried to think of something less suspicious but came up with nothing.”
“Judging from how weirdly polite you’ve been I’d say you were probably raised by a bunch of ponies,” Gordon exclaimed.
Tom blinked. “Ponies?”
“It doesn't matter,” Gordon quickly dismissed. “What matters is what you intend on doing now.”
“Well, that depends on how much my leg has healed. It's only been what, twelve hours?” Tom replied.
“Probably a little closer to a full twenty-four,” Gordon explained.
“That is… odd,” Tom muttered to himself. Time must flow differently here than it does back home?
“Yeah you slept pretty long, and nothin could wake ya either. Not even sewing up the holes in your foreleg,” Gordon continued. “Doc thought you might have bumped your head as well but your skull was fine.”
“Finally, some good news,” Tom remarked to himself.
“So,” Gordon cleared his throat. “You should heal up almost completely in a day or so, but after that, you owe me one. Normally I wouldn't explain this to a fellow griffon, but I was honor-bound to help you, but once you can get around normally you have to pay me back.”
“Sounds fair,” Tom reasoned.
“Normally I can name whatever price I want considering I also paid the doc for his services,” Gordon continued. “Some might have demanded a year and a day of labor from you but my family enjoys its privacy so I’ll ask something simpler of ya.”
Well, that's good. I don't know what I’d do if I ended up an indentured servant for a year. Tom thought to himself. At least my nights would be uneventful, if as stressful as my days.
“I want you to hunt down that wolf that got ya. Then I want you to kill it and bring it back here,” Gordon stated. “It tasted blood now and is a danger to the whole community. Taking it down would help you regain your own honor, and the pelt would net me a fine sum at the market.”
I wonder just how much such a thing would go for. Tom thought to himself, only to dismiss the idea. I’m in no position to bargain.
“And in the meantime, you’ll keep feeding me and giving me a place to rest I presume?” Tom pressed.
Gordon nodded slowly. “Don't think I’ll be spoiling you or nothing. The most you’ll get is soup or oatmeal.”
“That's perfectly acceptable,” Tom replied, only to wince and clutch his stomach. “Speaking of food and water…”
“I’ll get the missus in here to whip us up some grub and say hello,” Gordon announced before turning right around and trotting back to the door.
After slipping outside he began engaging in a low, hushed conversation with the female waiting for him. Tom was about to turn away from the window when he noticed a small face peeking up at him from close by. Glancing down at it, he noticed that there was a young, probably only three-year-old griffon peering up at him with curious grey eyes.
Her features were rounded in the kind of way that all kids were, their bodies having yet to fully grow into things. They were also instantly recognizable as female, due to their slightly longer eyelashes and general bearing about them. They were also much more physically brighter than their presumed father and sported sapphire feathers and fur while their primaries were an electric blue color.
So cute! Tom thought to himself.
Upon getting spotted, the face vanished, leaving Tom to chuckle as the child scampered away to their parents. Now alone once more, Tom pulled back the covers to inspect his injury while his hosts chatted just outside the door. Only to find that the wrappings were so thick that he could see very little, save for the blood which had soaked into the bandages.
It still hurt, incredibly so, but whatever painkiller they had used on him was still working. Tom silently hoped that they had more of the stuff, as something told him that when it wore off he would be in unbearable agony. Those thoughts were brushed aside when the door to the house opened, and the entire family stepped back into their home.
Gordon was first to emerge, though he took a step back, allowing a slightly smaller, female griffon to enter. This one was also noticeably feminine, as her face was more curved, her beak slightly shorter, and her talons not quite so large. She also had a grey coloration with the odd blue feather which peppered her wings and the back of her head. Her eyes were a vibrant teal and contained within them a sharp, judgemental look, though one that didn't last long.
“My husband says you don't have any memories. Is this true?” she asked.
“It is, I’m afraid,” Tom replied, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “Other than my name I can't remember where I came from, or even where I am now for that matter.”
“Well most folks around here refer to this place as the village of Evergreen,” replied the female in a scholarly tone. “Though it has yet to grow large enough to even really earn it an official designation.”
“I’m sure that will change once those loggers come in,” Gordon remarked.
“If they ever do,” countered his wife.
The larger griffon snorted. “Ain't that the truth.”
“I’m sorry, what was your name? And what do you call the little one, other than adorable?” Tom asked, gesturing between the female’s legs to where the smallest of the three griffons was hiding.
“Eep,” she cried, ducking further back behind her mother.
“This little one is Gretchen,” Gordon proudly proclaimed. “And she should remember what it is to be a griffon. You must be bold, child!”
He gently, yet firmly pushed the kid in front of the three of them, causing her to qual in fear.
“Oh um, hi,” Gretchen murmured.
“My name is Griselda, and little Gretchen here is just a little shy, but don't worry. She’ll warm up to you real quick,” Griselda stated, clapping her claws together. “Now then. Let's get some food in us. You’re likely pretty hungry given how long you’ve been sleeping.”
“I wouldn't want to be rude,” Tom muttered, a clawed hand grabbing his rumbling stomach. “But I am starving.”
“Just give me a holler when it's all ready. I gotta get some more firewood chopped or else old man Gerkin is going to give me an earful tomorrow,” Gordon exclaimed, walking out the door before anyone could even respond to him.
“I hope you don't mind soup. We aren't exactly well off out here,” Griselda claimed as she threw a new log into the stove, and placed a pot of water atop it.
“I’m about a step away from chewing on the carpets so anything right now would be nice,” Tom replied.
Griselda chuckled as she began rooting around in one of their few cupboards. “Now then, where did I leave those onions I found in the woods a few days ago…”
Tom sat back down and sighed, relief washing over him.
He had food, he was safe, he was healing, and his saviors apparently had some kind of advanced knowledge of medicine. A good thing too, as something told the man that it would have taken months for such a nasty injury to fully heal. He was not happy about the quest that had been all but thrust upon him, but even that wasn't the worst outcome he had considered.
“So,” murmured a soft voice. “You don't remember anything at all?”
Tom shook his head. “Not a thing.”
“Do you know what… a unicorn is?” inquired Gretchen, taking a step closer to the man.
“They’ve got a horn right?” Tom asked, pretending that it had taken considerable effort just to remember such a small, inconsequential detail.
“What about Griffonstone, do you know where that is?” Gretchen pressed on.
Tom shook his head. “Never heard of it.”
“What? Really!” Gretchen shrieked, clawed hands flying into the air. “But it's the capital of the empire. You gotta know that one.”
Tom shrugged. “Not a clue.”
“Well it's this big place to the east that's really high on this mountain and-” Gretchen continued, explaining more and more about this mysterious city that had at one time been their people’s greatest metropolis.
Huh. Well, I guess it will be easier than I thought to find out more about this world. Hopefully, this kid’s weirdly encyclopedic knowledge extends to things beyond just cities. Tom thought to himself. I guess I’ll have to quiz her and find out.
The man turned griffoness tipped the bowl back and gulped down the last bit of the soup. He polished it off with the final dregs of his water which washed down the earthy meal easily. Though it contained more minerals than he would normally like, the water was at least crisp and cool.
“Yeah they have totally cool magic,” Gretchen gushed. “They can shoot lasers, and move stuff with their mind!”
“For some reason, it's weird to think that magic is real,” Tom admitted. “And that there are some super powerful ponies half a world away which control the sun.”
“And the moon!” Gretchen claimed.
Tom chuckled, and nodded, patting the young griffoness on the head. “And the moon. You sure do know a lot of stuff.”
The child beamed under the praise, grinning widely. “Thanks, lady! Mommy ran out of storybooks so she started telling me about other places and stuff.”
“You are quite the curious one, aintcha?” Tom remarked.
“Remember though,” Gordon began, the male stopping and depositing a bundle of wood next to the fire. “Curiosity killed the-”
“Cat, I know,” whined the child. “You tell me that every day.”
“Well it's true,” Gordon stated.
He then deposited his ax against the wall and began prodding at the embers within the fireplace with an iron poker. Nearby, Griselda was working away in the kitchen, preparing some manner of jam using a press, and a crank. All in all, it was a quiet, contemplative scene despite the strangeness, and Tom couldn't help but feel a little at home.
He quickly brushed aside that feeling, however, reminding himself that he had maybe a day or two left here. After that he would be on his own in this bizarre alternate world he found himself thrust into the middle of. That was a sobering thought without even thinking back on the fact that he needed to kill a wolf all by himself.
Without the ability to fly, a gun, or really any weapon at all.
“Woah are you okay lady?” Gretchen asked, poking Tom’s chest. “You went white as a sheet.”
“N-nothing,” Tom stuttered. “Just worrying that I may never get my memories back.”
“I wouldn't worry about that none,” Gordon exclaimed, poker in claw. “The doc mentioned that your head was okay so it will probably only take a day or so for them to come back.”
“She did say that this was a problem before her little tumble,” Griselda pointed out.
Gordon paused mid-poke and nodded. “I suppose only time will tell.”
“I hope they come back soon. Being homeless in this strange place is scary,” Tom murmured.
“For another day or so,” Gordon added. “You may seem relatively harmless, but your still a stranger.”
Griselda hummed to herself and seemed ready to offer something, but a pointed look from Gordon stopped her from speaking. So the griffon went back to her task, ignoring Tom’s curious glance from the bed. Though tempted to inquire further, and maybe ask about what he might do in order to earn his keep for a little longer, a sharp jab of pain distracted him.
Clutching at his wounded leg, Tom groaned and shut his eyes tightly. Immediately causing Gretchen to leap up on the bed and gasp in shock.
“Oh my gosh. Does it hurt?” asked the small child.
“Like you wouldn't believe,” Tom muttered. “Guess I didn't know how bad it is while you were talking to me about stuff.”
“Well, I guess we know how long the pain killers last,” Gordon remarked.
Griselda rolled her eyes. “Go get the ointment the doctor left. I’ll change the poor dear’s bandages.”
“Aye,” murmured Gordon before walking into the back room.
Tom ignored him however, his beak held shut tight as waves of agony rolled over him.
“Let go of your arm,” Griselda demanded in a soft tone. “I need to change the bandages and apply more ointment or else it's only going to get worse.”
Tom nodded and released the hold he had on his limb, allowing Griselda to take hold of it.
“Go sit over there Gretchen,” commanded the mother griffon.
“O-okay,” Gretchen murmured, gliding from the cot to the couch. “Is she going to be okay?”
“She's going to be just fine,” Griselda replied.
Tom winced as the first layer of gauze was peeled back, revealing the blood-soaked bandages beneath. A second, and then a third were peeled off as well, each one more painful than the last, until she reached the final one. That one was downright unpleasant to look at, with puss, and blood saturating almost the entire thing in a mat.
“We shouldn't have waited quite as long,” Griselda muttered. “This may sting, but it needs to come off.”
Tom nodded. “Do it.”
“Gretchen, ask your father to give me a cup of water,” Griselda commanded.
Gretchen wordlessly did as she was asked, sprinting into the back room and having a hurried conversation. A second later she and her father emerged, with the elder griffon holding a small circular container the size of a container of blush. He then dug into the cabinets and retrieved a jug of water, which he poured into a cup, that was placed in Griselda’s open hand.
“Here we are,” Griselda murmured in a low tone. “This might sting a little.”
Tom grit his beak and waited a few seconds before the water cascaded down his wounded arm. Wetting the gauze and causing an unpleasant prickling sensation from the points where the wolf had bitten him. That feeling didn't last long thankfully, though it was soon replaced by an incredibly unpleasant feeling that wasn't unlike removing a giant scab.
Griselda had begun to lift the gauze away and met resistance almost immediately. The griffon’s firm hand lifted the remaining section away, ignoring Tom’s whimpers of pain. Within a few seconds, the bloody bandage was removed completely, revealing a row of holes in his arm.
Though not overly deep, and actually mostly healed, they were still quite nasty to look at. Blood oozed out of a few and mingled with puss in pockets of flesh carved out by the wolf’s teeth. Tom nearly gagged just looking at it, and swiftly averted his gaze, closing his eyes tightly to avoid temptation.
A soft towel patted at both the top and bottom of the wound before being placed aside. A new bandage was then applied to the wound, one which was not quite as high quality as the last. Where the other felt like medical gauze, this was more like a clean sheet, one which was soft, but still a piece of bedding.
After the wound was covered a thin layer of brownish paste was applied across both sides. Tom watched this closely, noting that they had used up the rest of the mysterious ointment in the process. Despite the bit of panic, this realization gave him, the man turned griffon was still relieved, as a soothing cold radiated up his leg.
Within seconds it felt as though it was completely normal, as only a faint tingle of pain remained. This was lessened even more as several more layers of bandages were added atop the first. After the third was applied and tied tightly, securing the entire thing, Griselda took a step away from the cot.
“Well then. That wasn't so bad? I’d say you’ll be healed by tomorrow morning at this rate,” exclaimed the griffoness.
“Really? That fast?” Tom asked.
Gordon chuckled. “This forest may not look like much, but plenty of medicinal herbs grow around here.”
“I sure am glad for that,” Tom remarked.
“Why don't you get up and go for a little walk?” Gordon offered. “Clean air is good for the body.”
“But I gotta tell Tom about Nightmare Moon!” Gretchen whined.
Gordon snorted. “You don't need to fill this one’s head full of pony nonsense. Besides, who cares what those magical morons are up to across the ocean? We got our own problems here.”
“Still…” Gretchen muttered.
The male sighed and picked up his child in a clawed hand. “When you’re older, you can do whatever you want now ya hear? But while you're in this house ya gotta focus on what matters.”
“Like cooking, cleaning, and learning your letters,” Griselda added.
“Exactly,” Gordon agreed. “Once you know all those things I’ll teach you how to chop wood, and your mother will show you the best to search for food in the forest.”
“After all that will you show me how to hunt?” Gretchen asked, eyes wide with wonder.
Gordon nodded slowly. “After all that is done then yes. I’ll teach you how to hunt, and fight.”
“Yes!” exclaimed the young griffon triumphantly.
Tom giggled. “That is so cute.”
“I am not cute,” Gretchen declared, the child puffing her cheeks out defiantly.
“Watch your tone,” barked the large griffon. “I will not have you insult my daughter in my own home.”
Tom immediately raised his hands defensively. “My apologies. I didn't know that was an insult.”
Gordon relaxed slowly, his shoulders slumping. “Just don't do it again.”
“In the future, try to avoid describing another griffon as weak, or soft,” Griselda added.
“I will,” Tom declared, pushing himself off the bed and bowing slightly. “You have my sincerest apologies.”
Gordon snorted. “Forget it. Go for a walk and we’ll call it even.”
“I will,” Tom replied.
The griffoness scampered towards the cabin’s exit, his steps awkward and fumbling at first. His mind wanted to walk bipedally while his body disagreed, thankfully his instincts won out. Though his half-second of standing on his back two legs earned him an odd look, they didn't seem overly put off by his antics.
In fact, the only thing he really saw in their eyes was pity, as well as a small bit of disgust. Though that last emotion was really only found in the gaze of Gordon. Now standing outside the cabin, Tom silently cursed himself for not thinking things through.
“Now I look even weirder, great,” Tom murmured to himself. “At least the amnesia explanation should hold up a bit longer.”
He realized at this point that he hadn't asked how to get back to town or even what direction it lay. Thankfully that wasn't exactly difficult to discern, and he could see a narrow pathway leading off to the left. Before he decided to follow it, he first chose to test his leg a bit more, cautiously putting weight on the limb.
Though painful, it wasn't debilitating, and he could at least walk without agony radiating up his side. That was probably due to the strange creme Griselda had used, but at least he had a few hours to walk around pain-free. He intended on doing just that, striding confidently towards the path leading to the small village of Evergreen.
It took about six or so steps before he realized that he was about to explore a fantasy town in another world. One populated by mystical creatures the likes of which no human had ever seen before. Though exciting that sense of wonder was stifled somewhat by the realization that they were probably fairly normal.
Everyone seemed like just another person, only one with talons, wings, and two extra legs. Sure they were a bit more warrior-esque, but there had been human cultures and civilizations with such values. Heck, they felt a bit like Vikings in a way, though that comparison wasn't completely apt for obvious reasons.
As he walked away, Tom noticed that the small family was eagerly chatting with one another. Whatever they were talking about looked serious, and though tempted to listen in, Tom walked on. Putting one limb in front of the other until he left the cottage behind and reentered the forest.
Now surrounded on all sides by verdant nature barely tamed by the griffons of Evergreen, Tom felt relaxed. That relaxation morphed into one of panic when his body realized that it had not used the washroom in its entire existence. A hasty inspection of his surroundings revealed that there was a pile of rotten logs resting in a dry creek bed nearby.
“Damn damn damn,” Tom cursed under his breath.
Squatting awkwardly near the rotten wood, the male turned female got a crash course in his new biology. A minute later he emerged, a blush on his face, and a confused look in his eye. That expression vanished quickly, pushed away by a person who decided not to deal with the thoughts roaming through his head at that moment.
“Right, town,” Tom murmured to himself.
Glancing back to the path, he embarked once more on his quest to find the rest of the village. As he did so, the male found himself struck by the untouched beauty of the forest surrounding him. The griffons had cleared a few trees that were true, but just enough to cut through the thick vegetation.
If they had any moral qualms with cutting a swath through the tangled wood he wasn't sure. What he did know was that their stewardship of the land was well handled, and minimalist. A bit of undergrowth had been cut aside while a few larger trees had been felled for their homes or other constructions.
It was as close to true wilderness as Tom had ever come, and it was utterly enchanting. Some part of him buried by years spent in the city flowered under those massive canopies of green. His wonder was so all-consuming that he barely even noticed his arrival in the village he had been seeking.
It wasn't a surprise that he was shocked though, as the village itself was little more than a cluster of ten homes. Arranged in a semi-circle at the top of a small rise where little grew, the houses themselves were not exactly grandiose. Little more than rather large cabins, they housed a family or two at most, by the looks of it.
The path Tom was walking passed between two of the homes and emerged out the other side in the middle of the village. This clearing sported several work areas that were open to the elements and mostly attached to the front of a home. A primitive blacksmithing shop had been established beneath a simple overhand near the larger of the houses.
Beside that was a general store, though to call it a store was a stretch as it didn't even have a true sign. The only reason Tom even knew it was a store was the fact that a saw and a few other basic tools hung in the window with price tags on them. Aside from that there really weren't any businesses or structures to speak of, only outhouses, and cabins barely visible through the trees.
There were few griffons walking the street, with the majority of which being children and a few females. The griffonessess had gathered near the blacksmith and were chatting about something while their offspring played nearby. These chicks were kicking a can back and forth across the gravel-covered circle at the center of town to great excitement.
Other griffons could be seen working, flying, or carrying goods to and fro. They tended to be male, but there were still a good number of females amongst their ranks. It seemed fairly egalitarian, which made sense considering just how out of the way they were.
Tom’s first urge was to go speak to the blacksmith, though he quickly reminded himself that he had no money. That and this was not a dungeons and dragons game, so the burly male likely didn't have a quest for him. Even if he did, Tom doubted he could complete it, as he was injured, weak, and a bit on the cowardly side.
So he turned towards the females, though once more he stopped himself before getting very far. Standing there near the edge of the clearing, Tom realized, fully realized that he might not be going home again. If he did, then it would only happen when he fell back asleep, something he doubted he could do at the moment.
Sure there was a chance that getting clocked upside the head might work but that wasn't a permanent solution. He’d just wake up back in the human world, exhausted and having slept only a few hours or so. Then when he did finally return to this realm he would have to deal with the fallout of suddenly knocking himself out.
He wondered what would happen if this griffon body died, or if his human one did. It was an odd thought to consider, and Tom soon brushed it aside as unnecessary. He had enough on his plate at this point, and he didn't need to add an existential crisis to that list of things.
“But if this is indeed real, then what should I do?” Tom murmured.
He hadn't really thought about it, as he just assumed he wouldn't return here, yet here he now was. In an alien world, without any kind of support network at the ass-end of nowhere, and without a plan. It was enough to make him want to begin hyperventilating, but thankfully he focused himself on breathing normally.
“One step at a time. I need to get better and hunt a wolf. No big deal,” Tom murmured to himself.
Choosing to direct his mind to something a bit less mentally taxing, Tom began looking around. Gathering information on his surroundings was important, and he started by searching for some kind of notice board. This was found just outside the general store, where a few bounties seemed to have been posted.
Walking over to it, Tom was thankful that he could read what was written on the notices. Whatever god entity had brought his sleeping mind here had evidently given him just enough knowledge to survive. Not enough to thrive, or even know where he was in this strange world, but at least learning to read wasn't on his to-do list.
Looking a little closer, the notices were weathered and sun-bleached, with little actually being legible. There was a bounty advertising five silvers for each wolf head, brought to a nearby town whose name was unreadable. Beneath that one was a sheet of paper proclaiming the glory and honor gained by serving in the army.
The only one that truly stuck out was the flyer that proudly displayed a smiling unicorn pony surrounded by fireworks. Standing atop a stage was what looked like a magician, complete with a fancy star-studded hat, and cape.
“Come one come all, to Trixie’s magic show. Where you will see tricks and spells the likes of which you have never witnessed before,” Tom peered a little closer. “Admittance is either one bit or three silvers. Huh.”
“Wait,” Tom muttered. “If she's a unicorn, and is good at magic then maybe she could send me home. Or at least turn me back into a male.”
Rereading the flyer revealed that the date of the next show was tonight, with one occurring the next day. That seemed to be it though, as the other dates were for other towns with names like Old Hallow and Oakville. There were more listed but Tom didn't bother reading them, his mind immediately forming a primitive plan.
The first step of which was approaching the two elderly females watching the children play. The pair turned to Tom as he approached, appraising him silently.
“I was wondering when the lost little chick would find her way into town,” remarked one of them. “Good to see you up and about.”
“Don't be too open with this one Greta, she's still a stranger. Might even be a spy for some bandit clan,” barked the older of the two.
The first one rolled her eyes. “Don't be ridiculous. She looks intimidated by me of all people. Not exactly bandit material don't you think.”
“Still,” muttered the greying old griffon using a cane. “What brings you here, young one?”
“I uh. Was hoping to ask you about that flier I saw,” Tom began.
“The magic show I assume?” offered the younger of the two.
Tom nodded.
“Showed up on the board the other day,” she continued, scratching her chin. “Gribbles said it just flew in all on its own and affixed itself without any help.”
The older one snorted. “Don't see the point really. Ain't no one going to see some fancy pants unicorn put on some show.”
“Might be interesting for the kids,” offered the other female. “They haven't gotten much entertainment.”
“Hmmm. Still,” murmured the older of the two.
“So she hasn't made it into town yet then?” Tom asked.
“Nope. Probably on the road nearby though,” remarked the younger griffon, who scratched her chin with a claw. “Got plenty of rain the other day so the path is pretty muddy. I’ve been tempted to give it a flyover myself but I’m a little busy.”
“Bah,” scoffed the older griffon. “Let the wolves take her. We don't need some pony coming here and taking all our money.”
“Err thanks,” Tom exclaimed, extending a hand. “I’m Tom by the way.”
“Funny name, stranger,” remarked the younger who shook the offered claw firmly. “Definitely not from around these parts.”
“Sounds more like a minotaur name,” added her companion.
“Anyway,” exclaimed the younger kid watcher. “I’m Goldy, and this is Glitz.”
Glitz snorted. “You can just call me ma’am.”
“Err right,” Tom cleared his throat. “Thank you for the information. I’m going to go see if I can't find this Trixie pony.”
“Good luck,” Goldy offered.
Tom smiled, giving the griffon a nod before turning and walking away.
“Right,” he murmured to himself once out of earshot of the others. “Step one is done.”
As Tom walked the still muddy path that could only generously be called a road, he pondered his plan again. Magic was real, apparently, and it didn't seem like the kind of magic that the ancient peoples of earth believed in. No miracles, wild rumors, mysticism, or religious connotations, only real literal magic.
It was a bit hard to believe, but if even the people of this podunk village in the middle of nowhere knew of it then it had to be real. Even with all that logic, Tom still felt like his assumption was reaching a bit, but he decided to ignore that thought. Once he found this pony he could ask her about magic, and demand to see some.
This would prove once and for all if the next stage of his plan was even possible.
Making a portal back home, or at least changing his sex back to the one he was used to. That second one was much more minor than getting home, but that opened up a whole different can of worms. Would his griffon body go back to Earth? How would that even work?
“Focus,” Tom muttered to himself, giving his head a little shake. “We’ve got bigger concerns.”
Putting all his attention on the road ahead, Tom kept his eyes and ears open for trouble. Wolves were one problem he did not want to have to worry about again, especially not while his wound had still not quite healed. Thankfully the forest was relatively quiet, with the only noise being distant bird calls or the sound of bugs whizzing around.
Occasionally some scittering could be heard, but in the end, it always turned out to be a squirrel or other small animal. It was a relaxing atmosphere, and despite all the concerns heaped upon Tom’s head, he couldn't help but walk a little slower. The experience of striding through untouched wilderness, and beholding the virgin beauty of nature was not one he had ever experienced.
He imagined that it was a pleasure fewer and fewer humans experienced with each passing year. Here though, there seemed new land aplenty, as well as more adventure than Tom appreciated in his life. Thankfully the only trouble he had now was walking down a muddy road without shoes.
It wasn't too bad, as it was mostly dry, and his new limbs were tougher than his old human ones. Allowing him to quickly maneuver the less than optimal terrain, traveling up and down the many small hills that dotted the landscape. As he began to crest a particularly large rise, he could hear someone in the distance, someone who sounded like they were cursing.
“Horsefeathers. Bucking horse feathers,” muttered a feminine voice.
Walking a little faster, Tom quickly reached the top of the hill and looked down to find a curious sight waiting for him. There on the road was a teal unicorn strapped into a wagon which itself was turned at a slight angle. Its wheels were buried deep in the mud, and despite the magician’s frantic pulling, the mobile house was going nowhere.
The wagon was itself fairly plain, having been painted a dull brown, and having little to no extra features to speak of. A door could be seen behind the pony attempting to pull it, and upon each side was a small window barely big enough to crawl out of. Unlike the pony pulling it, the quaint little house on wheels was rather drab, and colorless.
Before Tom approached, he inspected the pony a little closer, immediately recognizing her from the poster. Though she didn't wear the hat or cape like she did on the flyer, the resemblance was undeniable. She had the same shade of light blue fur, pale almost white mane and tail as well as a pair of soft purple eyes.
The mare, as Tom remembered a female horse was called, also had a strange tattoo on her flank. He also recalled Gretchen mentioning something about cutie marks and how they symbolized a pony’s special talent. Though the hyperactive child hadn't exactly been clear on how they came about, or what they all meant.
Trixie’s was fairly easy to figure out though, given that it was a wand, and what looked like magic. Given it was a rather childish impression of magic, akin to what you might have seen in a Disney movie but it was magic nonetheless. The direction of Tom’s gaze also elicited an odd feeling down in his chest, a sort of heat that left him feeling strange.
“Don't just stand there staring at my butt. Help me!” Barked the unicorn.
Tom jumped, the man having completely lost himself in his inspection. “R-right. Sorry!”
“Huh that doesn't usually work,” Trixie remarked. “Get behind and when the great and powerful Trixie yells go, start pushing!”
“Got it!” Tom yelled back.
The griffon jogged to the back of the wagon and braced his claws against the backside of the aged wood. Tom wasn't sure how strong this body was, but it couldn't have been that significant given that it was apparently only a few days old. He got to test that assumption when Trixie shouted go from the front of the wagon, startling him into pushing.
His back limbs strained against the mud, digging deep into the churned earth and struggling to find purchase. For several seconds nothing happened, and Tom began to wonder if his efforts were in vain. A sudden lurch dashed those thoughts, forcing the human-turned griffon to stumble forward in an effort to keep up the pressure.
The wagon righted itself back onto the path, and soon they had managed to ascend the top of the hill.
“Stop!” shouted Trixie. “For the love of the sun, stop!”
Tom immediately did as he was told, releasing his grip on the wagon, and trotting back around the front. Where a winded, but grinning Trixie waited for him, a wide smile on her teal face.
“You have proved a more valuable assistant than the great and powerful Trixie thought you would,” Trixie declared. “It seems as though once more Trixie is humbled by your people’s earth pony-like strength.”
“Uh, thanks?” Tom muttered, scratching his head.
“Trixie supposes that this is the part where you demand payment,” Trixie sighed. “Very well. Trixie is willing to part with three, count them, three tickets to my show.”
With a flourish, Trixie reached out of sight and produced three bright teal slips of paper. The things looked like they were straight out of an old-timey movie, and sported fancy gold trim.
“Woah, okay,” Tom exclaimed.
“Very well, Trixie will sweeten the- what did you say?” Trixie muttered in shock.
“I said okay. What were you saying? Something about sweetening the deal?” Tom asked.
“Err okay,” Tom muttered, accepting the tickets. “So can you really do magic?”
“Of course! I am the great and powerful Trixie after all!” Trixie exclaimed, striking a pose, and causing a flurry of sparklers to shoot out from behind her.
“Those just look like fireworks,” Tom pointed out.
Trixie rolled her eyes. “Of course they resemble fireworks, that is the point.”
“So they aren't fireworks?” Tom asked.
Trixie groaned in irritation, the mare lighting her horn, and causing a streak of purple to shoot from the tip. It flew high into the air before exploding with a bang and raining down multi-hued sparklers in a circle.
“Does that answer your question?” Trixie demanded.
“Totally,” Tom muttered in awe.
Trixie smirked. “It is good to see that at least some griffons appreciate magic. Here Trixie thought your kind would be marveled by something you cannot replicate but this trip has mostly been a bust.”
“I’m not exactly from around here,” Tom admitted.
“Oh? Where are you from?” Trixie waved a hoof. “Nevermind, Trixie doesn't care.”
Tom shrugged. “That's fine. I don't even know the answer anyway.”
Trixie raised an eyebrow. “You don't know?”
“I have amnesia,” Tom replied, tapping the side of his head. “I can't remember anything from more than a few days ago.”
“And no one around here has been a help?” Trixie pressed.
“Nope,” Tom replied. “The doctor doesn't know much about head injuries, and apparently the closest expert is twenty miles from here.”
“That's not far,” Trixie reasoned.
“I also don't know how to fly,” Tom declared.
“Nevermind then,” Trixie muttered. “You have piqued Trixie’s curiosity, and she wishes to know what you plan on doing from here?”
“I was hoping that you might be able to help me,” Tom admitted, tapping his claws together. “I had hoped that someone as powerful as you might be able to help me get back home, or failing that help me with something… else.”
Trixie laughed aloud and struck another pose. “Your faith in the great and powerful Trixie is endearing, but alas my skill lies in other areas. Restoration magic is one school Trixie has yet to master.”
“Oh,” Tom muttered.
“But what about this other thing you mentioned? It is not… illicit is it?” Trixie inquired, leaning in close.
Tom raised his claws defensively and shook his head. “No, I mean I don't think so. Is gender-swapping magic illegal or something?”
Trixie seemed ready to launch into another grandstanding statement, only to deflate at the last second.
“Why would you want to go and do something like that?” Trixie inquired, her voice carrying none of the passion it had a second ago.
“Well I uh don't know much but I do know that this feels wrong,” Tom remarked, gesturing to himself slightly halfheartedly.
“Changing one’s sex is not an easy procedure, nor is it a cheap one,” Trixie explained.
“But can you do it?” Tom pressed.
Trixie shook her head. “Such alterations are best left in the hooves of experts who have dedicated their lives to that particular school of magic. An amateur could potentially cause life-threatening side effects.”
“Oh,” Tom muttered.
“Worry not. Back in Equestria there are several such experts, and I’m sure in time you could afford their assistance,” Trixie continued.
Tom blinked. “Oh well. That's great. I guess I should head to Equestria then.”
“Well it's not easy,” Trixie exclaimed. “The ocean between our lands is great, and passage is not exactly cheap or easy to come by.”
“So you’ve traveled it before?” Tom pressed, leaning in close.
Trixie raised her hooves. “Yes, yes. Trixie has traveled far and wide in order to spread her name, among other reasons.”
“You aren't going back that way by chance?” Tom inquired.
“Practice your personal space,” Trixie demanded, gently pushing Tom away. “Trixie rather enjoys breathing her own air, thank you very much.”
“Oh um, sorry,” Tom muttered.
Trixie shrugged. “It is fine. And yes, Trixie was planning on it, but not for a little while. Trixie has other goals here that must be completed before she can return.”
“Oh,” Tom murmured.
“Don't be such a sad sack,” Trixie exclaimed. “Here the great and generous Trixie will cut you a deal.”
“Can you take me with you?” Tom asked.
“I will, if!” Trixie held up a hoof. “If you manage to convince the majority of the town to come to see my show this evening. Do that and the great and powerful Trixie will consider you for the assistant position.”
“Yes!” Tom shouted, pumping a claw into the air. “I’ll do it!”
“Wonderful,” Trixie remarked. “Trixie looks forward to performing for a sold-out crowd for the first time since coming to this dreadful place.”
“I’ll do my best,” Tom professed.
“Good. Now be off with you! Trixie must prepare for this evening,” Trixie declared.
“Right. I’ll see you then,” Tom exclaimed.
“You shall!” Trixie proclaimed, before vanishing in a puff of smoke a second before the door opened, then closed with a bang.
Tom didn't even notice this, and merely walked away with wide, star-filled eyes. “Magic is real, and I’m going to see a real magic show. Maybe this place isn't so bad.”
The human-turned griffon walked away at a slow, slightly awkward place, one claw holding the tickets. Sex change magic was at least possible, and though he hadn't asked about potentially getting home, he could ask that later. Maybe after he had built up some trust with the mare, and seen what Trixie could do.
Then with gainful employment acquired, he could ask the real questions, and maybe even open up about who he really was. That wouldn't be for a while though, not until this tiny village was in his rearview, as getting caught in a lie would be unpleasant. Especially considering just how much griffons seemed to despise liars, or being slighted in any manner.
His thoughts were interrupted by a strangely powerful urge, one that made him stop dead in his tracks. His head turned robotically to the west, and he stared vacantly out past the trees and to the horizon beyond. He didn't know why but he felt an intense, nearly all-consuming urge to run in that direction.
Run and not stop until he had reached the horizon itself.
“What was that?” Tom muttered shaking his head. “It felt like something wanted me to go west.”
He tried to recall some reason for why he had suddenly felt that way but came up with nothing. Other than a small factoid he remembered from among Gretchen’s many ramblings.
That was where Equestria lay.
Shaking his head once more, the young male continued toward town and tried to put the odd sensation behind him. Chalking it up to an intense desire to return to his birth sex, Tom pretended like the entire thing hadn't happened. He had bigger concerns after all, like convincing a few crotchety old griffons that they should go to a magic show.
Behind him, the sun was starting to set, its long descent towards the horizon finally beginning in earnest. It would be a while before the world was shrouded in darkness, but not a lot of time before Trixie’s act would start. An act, Tom was confident, would be attended by no less than half of the entire village, or perhaps even more.
It required more convincing than he would have liked, but in the end, he had gotten more than a few begrudging agreements. The people were stubborn and poor, but curiosity was a good sales pitch, made doubly so by just how out of the way they were. It was unlikely that Trixie would ever return, and even less likely that anyone else would carry out such a journey.
So with the promise that it was going to be the event of the year, the reluctant village folk agreed. Tom merely hoped that he had convinced enough of them that Trixie would allow him to join her in returning to Equestria. A thought which remained affixed in Tom’s mind no matter how much he tried to brush it aside.
The urge remained at the back of his mind, reminding him each time he thought it gone that he should head that way. Though thankfully the compulsion never returned to full strength, it was constant, nagging at him without reprieve. Only a firm application of will dismissed it for the moment, allowing Tom to focus on the path ahead of him.
Though shrouded in more shadows than before, it was relatively easy to make out. Allowing the man turned griffon to travel back to the cottage that he had woken up in several hours earlier. The small home peeking out from between the trees not long after, as if called from the forest by Tom’s desires.
It was a welcome sight and one which made the male really feel like he was getting somewhere. The hopelessness which plagued him initially upon realizing that he was stuck here, was abating somewhat. Like the compulsion, it was still there, but distant, blocked off by a wall of burgeoning hope.
Walking past the window, Tom noticed that Gordon and Griselda were speaking animatedly about something. Gretchen was not present, and both parents were talking loud enough that their voices carried outside. Tom wanted to wave, or notify them of his presence, but caught a sentence that gave him pause.
“-we can't keep her here so much as a moment longer,” Gordon declared. “She doesn't know how to preen, she’s referred to herself as a male a few times and for all we know, is a bandit.”
“Do you really think that confused little thing was a killer?” Griselda hissed. “She was shaking like a leaf when you raised your voice.”
Gordon grunted. “She's a good actor.”
“My left teet she is,” Griselda barked. “I’ve seen through every tiny lie that she’s tried to utter.”
“Then you know she's been lying to us,” Gordon declared.
“Only about something small,” Griselda explained. “Besides, you’ve promised her room and board for another day. You can't go back on that.”
“No, I can't,” Gordon muttered. “But Gretchen is sleeping with us tonight and tomorrow she’ll hunt that wolf, pay her debts and go be someone else’s problem.”
“Sure dear,” Griselda exclaimed.
Tom grit his beak and attempted to school his expression as much as he was able, returning it to a more neutral state. Once he was certain that he didn't look as upset as he felt, he knocked twice before turning the knob and stepping inside.
“Hello? I’m back from the village,” Tom called.
“Ahh Tom. Good to see you. I was about to start dinner,” Griselda exclaimed.
“And I was just about to find some more firewood,” Gordon muttered, brushing past Tom and exiting the small cottage.
“Well that's good,” Tom remarked. “My leg feels a lot better.”
“I’ll change your bandages in a moment. I just need to get this pot over the fire,” Griselda declared.
The grifoness hefted a rather large container of soup over to the stove, setting it on the sole burner on the top. With that done, the older griffon acquired a fresh set of bandages from the bathroom and walked over to Tom. Who by this time had seated himself on the cot and was doing his absolute best not to look as awkward as he felt.
“Is Tom back?” whispered Gretchen, the small child’s head peeking out from inside her room. “I wanted to tell her about Nightmare Moon.”
“She’s over here dear,” Griselda exclaimed.
“Just getting the ol leg checked up on by your mom,” Tom added.
Griselda chuckled. “You make me sound like a nurse.”
“Well you are at least knowledgeable,” Tom offered, careful to not use any words which may sound like an insult to the griffoness. “Patient too.”
“Thank you,” Griselda replied as she knelt down next to Tom. “A child tends to stick their claws in all sorts of places they shouldn't so you get rather good at tending to their injuries.”
“Hey I said I was sorry,” Gretchen blurted. “I didn't know that bush was full of pokeys.”
“And what did your father tell you about touching plants you can't identify?” Griselda asked, her claws on her hips as she glared down at the child.
“To not touch it because it might be poison?” Gretchen answered rather awkwardly.
“Exactly, now sit over there. I need to make sure Tom’s leg doesn't get infected,” Griselda declared.
“Yes mom,” Gretchen muttered.
As the small child plunked down a few feet away, Gordon made his return, now with an armload of firewood under a leg. He deposited his load next to the stove before sitting down on the beaten-up couch and releasing a sigh. As the other male relaxed, his wife gently peeled away Tom’s bandages with a surprising amount of ease.
“That didn't even hurt,” Tom muttered in awe. “That stuff really works.”
“We may not have any fancy magic, but us griffons know plenty about herbs and natural ways of healing the body,” Griselda continued.
“So don't let a pony tell you that they are the only ones who know how to heal,” Gordon offered from his place on the couch.
“Interesting,” Tom muttered.
He watched as Griselda finished removing his bandage, revealing a mostly healed leg with only a few divots left. These bumps were painful, but were no longer open, having been healed over by a thick layer of new flesh. Turning his leg over showed that the other side was in a similar state, but required a few more dabs to clean.
“You’re nearly as good as new,” Griselda claimed. “We're going to do one last round of bandages and pain killer though. Don't want you scratching it by accident and ending up back at square one.”
“Definitely not,” Tom added. “Thank you very much, ma’am.”
“I appreciate the respect but ma’am makes me feel old,” Griselda exclaimed.
Tom chuckled. “Noted.”
“So how was the village? Find anything that sparked a memory?” Gordon asked.
“Did you remember that you were secretly a noble from Griffonstone?” Gretchen inquired, leaping onto the cot and staring up at Tom inquisitively.
“Ha, no! And I doubt that very much considering I woke up without any money to my name,,” Tom replied with a smile.
“Darn,” cursed the child.
“Though I did find something interesting while I was out getting familiar with the town,” Tom proclaimed, pulling the tickets out from his clenched fist. “Tada, three tickets to see a magic show, right here in Evergreen and if your parents allow it I’d like to give you one.”
“Woah there,” Gordon interrupted, rising from his spot on the couch. “These aren't for that unicorn that's supposed to be showing up tonight, is it?”
“They are for Trixie’s show,” Tom answered. “I know you may not like ponies but its free, and you could have the other ticket if you’d like.”
“That is quite generous of you,” Griselda murmured.
“Where did you find that kinda money?” Gordon demanded.
“I didn't,” Tom replied. “Trixie was stuck out of town so I helped her out and was rewarded with free tickets.”
The older griffon relaxed slightly. “I still don't like it. Gretchen’s already too fascinated by those hooved critters.”
“Aww come on daddy, it's free!” pleaded the child, who had latched onto one of her father’s forelegs. “You don't have to pay anything.”
“Though if you want the whole family to come you’ll have to buy one extra ticket,” Tom warned.
“I’m sure we could manage at least one,” Griselda offered.
Gordon seemed ready to argue but was met by the pleading eyes of his child, and the soft gentle gaze of his wife. Just like that, all his indignation vanished and was replaced by bitter acceptance.
“Fine,” he muttered, waving a hand in the air. “If our guest went through all the trouble, it would be rude to turn them down.”
“These tickets aren't cheap either,” Griselda muttered, turning the expensive-looking pieces of paper around in her claws. “Why two of the things are about the price of a wolf’s pelt.”
“Now I know you aren't about to suggest what I think you're suggesting,” Gordon warned, his gaze narrowing.
Tom perked up. “I know you may not believe me but I didn't intend on using these to get out of my debt to you. However, I would appreciate it if you at least considered the possibility. I have absolutely no idea how to hunt, no weapons, and no ability to track. If I went after that thing there would be a very very good chance I would just die.”
The larger griffon growled and pounded a hoof against the cot. “You can't go against our agreement. A griffon’s word is their bond, it cannot be broken.”
“Then just kill me,” Tom exclaimed, opening his forelegs. “If you want me dead then at least do it yourself.”
“Noone wants anyone to die,” Griselda interrupted, interposing herself between the two facing her husband. “Let's be honest, she can't fight a wolf and this is at least the monetary equivalent of a pelt.”
“It's a bloody magic show put on by a damn unicorn!” Gordon bellowed.
“It's also one of the only bits of entertainment we are going to get out here until the loggers show up,” Griselda pressed. “And Gretchen wanted to go, didn't you?”
“I don't want daddy to be mad,” murmured the child.
Upon gazing down at those two big watery eyes, Gordon’s shoulders slumped. “Fine, but after dinner, and this silly little show we are done. I want you out of my house.”
“Yeah sure,” Tom immediately replied. “Whatever you want.”
The large male sighed, and picked up his child, pressing her tight against his chest. “We can't afford to all go to the show, so why don't you three go on without me and I’ll finish up the order of firewood.”
“But I want daddy to come too,” whispered Gretchen.
“Daddy can't. He still has work to do,” Gordon replied in a gentle tone. “You don't want to leave the others with cold houses would you?”
“No,” muttered the child.
“Come on, it will be just us girls,” Griselda added.
“Okay,” Gretchen declared a little more confidently.
Tom bit his tongue, resisting the urge to correct the other griffon.
“Now then, let's get the bowls out. Something is smelling pretty good,” Gordon offered.
“Oh shoot. I forgot to add the onions,” Griselda murmured.
As the family began to chat amongst themselves while setting the food out and preparing for dinner, Tom sat quietly. Things hadn't turned out perfectly, and it may have gotten a bit heated, but at least his debt was paid. Without having to put his life on the line chasing down a wolf in a foreign body, in an entirely alien world.
“That was close,” he muttered.
Evening was fast approaching, and all around them, shadows stretched from the many trees. The world may be growing dark, but Tom found himself still able to see nearly perfectly, and his eyes needed little time to adjust. He wondered just how much avian DNA griffons had if they were capable of seeing in low light with such ease.
That was a thought for another time, however, as a small voice perked up from her spot on her mother’s back.
“Do you think she’ll know any cool spells?” whispered Gretchen. “Like teleportation, or how to shoot fire?”
“I’m sure she knows that last one,” Tom answered. “I saw her shoot a giant firework out of her horn already.”
“Out of her horn? That's so cool,” murmured Gretchen.
“Yes, unicorns can do many amazing things, but can they fly like us?” Griselda exclaimed, opening her wings for emphasis.
“No way,” Gretchen replied, shaking her head.
“Can they fight like us? Are they strong like us?” Griselda pressed, slashing the air with her clawed hands.
“Noone’s as strong as us!” Gretchen declared.
“Good girl,” Griselda exclaimed, reaching back to pat the girl on the head. “I don't mind if you are interested in the other races but you must remember what makes us unique.”
“I know,” Gretchen stated.
Tom watched on in silence, a little confused but nonetheless intrigued by the interaction playing out. Humanity knew no other sapient species, save the distant cousins that they killed off during the Stone Age. Now alone with no other truly unique minds, humans took a different path, but what would the people of this world do?
Such high-minded considerations were thoughts for another time, however, and Tom pushed them away. He may have managed to get out of his obligation to go hunt a wolf, but he wasn't out of the woods yet. Directing his attention to the path before him, Tom noticed that they were rapidly nearing town and that others had the same idea.
In the middle of the small village was a small, but sizable crowd of griffons all gathered before a stage. The flat expanse extended from the base of Trixie’s wagon and was held up by several large wooden poles. The unicorn herself was moving amongst the crowd, taking money, chatting, and generally impressing everyone.
Despite the misgivings of the still slightly grumpy griffons, the group seemed eager to enjoy the show. Gretchen especially, with the excited young kid bouncing along with barely contained energy. Even her mother, Griselda felt the infectious tug of curiosity and inspected the small stage with growing awe.
Trixie appeared in front of the trio a few moments later, a wide grin on her face.
“Greetings and welcome to the great and powerful Trixie’s amazing magic extravaganza!” Trixie proclaimed, striking a pose. “Trixie sees that her wonderful assistant has brought with her two amazing guests.”
“Yes, yes, yes!” Gretchen shouted, bouncing up and down. “I can't wait to see all the magic!”
“Then Trixie shan't keep you waiting,” Trixie declared, holding out a hoof. “Hand Trixie the tickets, and final preparations for the show shall begin posthaste!”
Tom handed over the tickets but didn't let go of them initially. “A good-sized crowd, huh?”
“Indeed it is!” Trixie proclaimed. “After the show, you must come see Trixie. We have much to discuss.”
Tom released the hold he had on the thin slips of paper. “Thanks. I’ll see you after the show then.”
“Then I bid you, adieu!” Trixie declared, disappearing in a puff of smoke and repairing on the stage a moment later.
“She's so cool,” gushed Gretchen.
“She is certainly quite the show mare,” Griselda remarked.
“I can't wait!” Gretchen exclaimed.
Griselda bent down and gently took her child’s claw. “Why don't you play with the others for a few minutes while we wait for the show to start? I was hoping to speak to Tom for a bit.”
“Okay!” Gretchen shouted.
The child then sprinted off, joining a small group of similarly aged griffons throwing a ball around. They were being watched by a group of adults who were chatting amongst themselves as they waited.
“So… what did you want to talk about?” Tom asked somewhat nervously.
“I just wanted to say that I hope you don't think too ill of my husband,” Griselda began in a low tone. “He lost the majority of his family to an accident before we moved and is usually much more patient.”
“Why all the hate for ponies then?” Tom inquired.
Griselda sighed, her shoulders slumping. “A group of unicorns had moved to town right before the mysterious fire claimed a good number of his relatives. Without any apparent cause for the blaze, he blamed them for what happened, even though they had an alibi.”
Tom hummed thoughtfully to himself. “I feel like I’ve seen this before. I can recall something about how a person I knew went from distrusting to hateful and eventually acted on that. I hope the same thing doesn't happen here.”
“He just needs time to grieve,” Griselda explained. “He's been so busy with building the cottage, and supplying the town with firewood that I don't think he's given himself space to do so.”
“Either way I wish you the best,” Tom remarked.
Griselda smiled, and reached over, squeezing the other griffon’s shoulder. “Thank you, and for what it's worth I wish you the same. It certainly won't be easy for you out there, but if this Trixie is an honorable mare then at least you will have one companion.”
“Let's hope so,” Tom muttered.
As if waiting for her cue, Trixie suddenly appeared in the center of the stage with a loud bang, a cape held over the bottom half of her face.
“Gather round my fair griffons, for Trixie brings you a tale from a far-off land,” Trixie began, her voice magically altered so it traveled across the crowd with ease. “One beset by a cruel and ancient dragon who had stolen the vast treasures of a diamond dog clan.”
The mare lit her horn and conjured form an ethereal dragon of truly terrible proportions. Though illusionary, the spell was nearly perfect and made it look like the great wyrm was looking down at the crowd. Trixie didn't stop there, however, and with several quick flashes, a small group of armored bipedal dogs appeared amongst the crowd.
“Thirteen brave heroes, and one, less courageous burglar sought to end the dragon’s reign of terror,” Trixie continued, rising to her back hooves. “But first they would need to travel back to this far-off land, fighting monsters both great and small along the way.”
The unicorn conjured images of trolls, goblins, and other creatures of myth, though they were all different from the ones Tom knew. Their proportions were off, their eyes larger, and they were all far more cartoony than the ones he recognized. They were also fictional here as well, which was a bit of a surprise as he merely assumed that they were real.
Trixie continued her tale, using the various illusions to act out battles, both large and small. It was enchanting and felt close to being a movie, only better somehow, as the movie was moving amongst the audience. Children screamed in fright when a sword whizzed past their heads only to giggle when they remembered it wasn't real.
Though slightly like the hobbit books, the tale lacked any reference to higher powers or the one ring. It seemed to be a good alteration as nearly everyone present was enraptured by what they saw. Adults and children alike cheered when the heroes were victorious or held their breath when it seemed like they might lose.
It made Tom want to accompany Trixie even more than before and as time passed that feeling only grew. Right up until the end when the mean dragon was kicked out of the mountain and sent back home. The climactic conclusion was a bit more PG than Tom would have liked, but there were children present so that made sense.
With the dragon’s tail fading from sight, and the sky now dark, the tale was over. Trixie stood at the forefront of the stage, and bowed low, causing a cheer to go up amongst the crowd. Nearly everyone present clapped or hooted in delight, cheering on the magician while she bowed several more times.
“Thank you, thank you!” Trixie exclaimed. “Trixie is glad you enjoyed her magic show. Trixie wishes she could stay longer but all that magic tires out even those of us who are great and powerful.”
Several daw’s or pleading attempts from the younger audience members could be heard.
“Now now. Everyone must rest eventually, including a good number of you,” Trixie exclaimed, smiling down at the gathering of children near the edge of the stage. “Now you better get back to your homes lest Smog the dragon gobbles you up!”
Trixie’s declaration was accompanied by the sound of wings as well as a bright red shape passing swiftly overhead. The ensuing panic from the children was contained by several laughing or annoyed parents. It was the perfect ending to an incredible evening and Tom found himself stunned by it all.
Magic was truly amazing, as was Trixie herself.
“Good luck,” whispered a voice.
Tom turned around to find Griselda winking at him, an already snoring Gretchen on her back.
“Err thanks I think. It was a pleasure meeting you both,” Tom offered.
“Likewise,” Griselda replied.
Turning back to the stage revealed that nearly everyone had departed, allowing Tom to walk right up to the front. Where Trixie was breaking down the stage, and sliding it back into the wagon using her magic. There Tom waited, watching as the unicorn disassembled it all in no time at all.
“There we are,” Trixie murmured, dusting her hooves off. “Now then. Let us discuss matters inside, and away from prying eyes.”
“Perfect,” Tom agreed.
Trixie lead the way inside, pulling open a series of steps and then the door. Revealing a relatively blank, empty interior that had only a single long bed, and a few small appliances. A primitive camping stove, some cutlery, and dishes cluttered the counter while a stack of papers sat on the table.
“Come, sit. Trixie shall make tea,” Trixie offered.
“Thanks,” Tom replied.
Trixie nodded, deftly moving about the relatively cramped space of the wagon with ease. In only a few seconds there was a pot begging to boil and a pair of teacups pulled from an overhead cupboard. With all that done, Trixie plunked down across from Tom, taking up the only other seat in the wagon and fixing him with a firm look.
“So, spell it,” she declared. “What's your deal?”
“Well like I said before. I suffer from amnesia and-” Tom began, only to be interrupted.
“Nah, you such at lying,” Trixie stated. “There is more to it that you’re not telling me.”
“I just really don't want to end up hungry and alone in a foreign wo-coutnry,” Tom exclaimed. “The thought of dying out here is terrifying.”
“That at least isn't a lie,” Trixie remarked. “And Trixie supposes that she could use someone of your talent to help bring in the crowd, as well as pull the cart.”
“So you’ll let me come with you?” Tom pressed.
“Trixie is considering it,” Trixie admitted. “She does have extra food, though you would need to sleep on the floor, and be okay with not receiving much monetary compensation. Trixie has plenty of bits but…”
The pony stared off into the distance for several seconds before shaking her head.
“Trixie has plans for that money and cannot afford to spend it,” Trixie finished.
“That's fine,” Tom blurted. “I don't mind.”
“But-” Trixie held up a hoof. “You must tell Trixie what is really going on. Trixie does not care what you are running from unless that thing is the law and you are a thief or something.”
“I’ve never stolen anything,” Tom declared, holding up his forelimbs.
“You know what I mean,” Trixie retorted, eyes rolling in their sockets.
Tom sighed. “I suppose there isn't much harm in telling you but… you’re going to think I’m crazy.”
“Try me,” Trixie challenged.
And so Tom spoke, telling Trixie everything that had happened to him over the last two days. He told her a bit about humans but mostly focused on his own recent experiences. Throughout it all, Trixie remained silent, sipping quietly on her tea and simply waiting for Tom to finish.
“And that pretty much brings me to now,” Tom exclaimed, falling back into his chair. “This is all either the wildest hallucination of my life, or I’m living two lives at once.”
Trixie polished off the last of her tea and pushed it aside.
“You probably think I’m crazy,” Tom remarked.
“Trixie does not,” Trixie exclaimed, forelegs crossed over her chest. “Trixie has seen many things in her travels, heard many tales and yours isn't even the wildest.”
“R-really?” Tom muttered in shock.
“This world is a wide, and weird place,” Trixie began. “Anything can happen, and though I don't think there are many who may be able to help you there are one or possibly two who may.”
“Really?” Tom echoed, eyes wide with curiosity.
“Luna is the mistress of dreams, and though the edge of her domain lies on the outskirts of Equestria, she will likely offer aid,” Trixie explained.
“Wait, Gretchen told me about her. Wasn't she Nightmare Moon not long ago?” Tom inquired.
Trixie nodded. “She was, though the elements were able to purify her.”
Tom wanted to ask why Trixie said the word elements with such vitriol but didn't get the chance to do so.
“Luna could likely discover the nature of this strange malady as she is the mistress of dreams,” Trixie continued. “Her knowledge of the dream realm and power over it are unmatched.”
“You said there might be a second person?” Tom inquired.
“Her sister, Princess Celestia is one of the most accomplished mages in history, so if it is true that you are from another world she may be able to help,” Trixie finished with a nod. “Though busy, the princesses do their best to help others, and would likely aid you in returning home.”
“That is…” Tom released a long sigh and shook his head. “Wonderful news, truly wonderful.”
“Trixie has decided,” Trixie proclaimed. “Trixie will take you on as an assistant, in return for food, lodgings, and passage to Equestria. She will not be able to pay you, as such travel will be expensive, but you will at least have a place to sleep. Even if it's the floor.”
“That's sure better than the ground,” Tom muttered.
“My thoughts exactly,” Trixie declared. “But before we set out tomorrow, we must give you a new name, one which doesn't stick out nearly as much as Tom.”
“But I like my name,” Tom murmured.
Trixie rolled her eyes. “It is a strange name that will bring with it unwanted attention, best to take on a more griffon sounding one.”
“Can't I just take Griselda or Gordon? It's not like I’m going to see either of them again,” Tom offered.
“No, that won't do,” Trixie dismissed. “Taking the name of someone still living is rude. No, you will need a new name like…”
The unicorn sat quietly, tapping her chin as she stared at Tom. Only to suddenly lurch up in her sat and exclaim ‘aha!’.
Tom awoke with a start, his chest heaving, and his entire body absolutely covered in sweat. For a moment the room itself struggled to enter focus, the man clutching at his chest while struggling to find out what was going on. The last thing he remembered was finally passing out on the floor of Trixie’s wagon, and then a brief moment of falling.
“Tom? Tom!” shouted a voice that sounded like it was a great distance away.
Blinking away the spots, Tom looked around to find that he was sitting upright in his own bed. No longer was he a griffon, or a girl, but a human man whose girlfriend was staring at him intently. This realization was oddly disappointing for some reason, but he quickly shook off that notion and looked over at his partner.
“How long was I out?” he muttered.
“Nearly twelve hours,” Emelia exclaimed, sitting back down on the bed. “I was beginning to worry that you weren't going to wake up. I had nine one one ready and everything.”
“Please don't do that. The ambulance ride over alone would bankrupt us,” Tom murmured dejectedly.
“I thought your insurance would cover that,” Emelia replied.
Tom sighed. “I work at a pizza place and a book store. The only thing it covers is paper cuts and grease burns.”
“Well, are you feeling better now? Did you have that dream again?” Emelia questioned.
Tom released a long exhale and fell back against the bed, his arms spread wide. “You have no idea babe. There was a whole town of those strange creatures and the dad one wanted me to fight a wolf but I couldn't do that. Heck, I couldn't even fly, or even use a weapon with those weird quadrupedal limbs.”
“You mean the griffon,” Emelia corrected.
“What?” Tom replied.
“You are not a griffon. Whoever you were in that dream wasn't you,” Emelia explained.
“Right, yeah. Whatever,” Tom dismissed. “The point is that it was weird, and I can remember every moment of it like it really happened. Even the pain of my leg where that wolf attacked the griffon felt incredibly real.”
“I can tell,” Emelia pointed out.
Tom glanced down at his arm and immediately realized that he was scratching it again. “Right, fuck,” he muttered, noting how red and agitated his skin now was.
“You’re going to a clinic,” Emelia stated firmly. “You’ve clearly got some weird case of narcolepsy, and it isn't getting better.”
“What part about, I can't afford it, don't you get?” Tom muttered in exasperation.
“I didn't say hospital. I said clinic,” Emelia corrected. “There is a free one on the other side of town that is not for profit.”
“Those places are terrible and have enormous lines,” Tom dismissed.
Emelia leaned over and poked the man in the side. “Do you have a better idea?”
Tom lay there for several long seconds before sighing deeply.
“You’re right,” he admitted, sitting up suddenly. “Wait, twelve hours? That means my shift is about to start!”
“Can't you take time off? This is serious,” Emelia stated while Tom scrambled out of bed.
“No can do,” Tom retorted, hopping around with one leg in his pants. “We can barely afford this place as is. If I lose one of my jobs we’d have to go back to that shithole on sixty-seventh street.”
“Oh alright,” Emelia exclaimed with a pout. “But you are going to that clinic, today.”
“Just send the hours, and location to my phone!” Tom shouted, stuffing his head into a shirt. “If I rush I might be able to pick up some food on the way.”
“Get something healthy!” Emelia called.
“Sure thing honey!” Tom lied while sprinting out the door. “Now let's hope Greg isn't working.”
Tom blinked slowly, his shoulders slack and his posture poor. His entire body ached, and his eyelids drooped, despite this he continued to sit upright on the hospital bed. He wanted nothing more than to lie down for a few minutes, to give his eyes a rest after his long day but he refused. Without any way to determine if he was going to end up back in that weird place, he couldn't afford to fall asleep for even a second.
A beep prompted him to pull out his phone and gaze down at the screen.
I swung a deal with an old friend to get you an appointment with a trained psychiatrist, but that won't be for a while. Don't worry about the money, she’s covering this pro bono, as one of her regulars unexpectedly quit. Read the message from Emelia.
Thanks, what happened to them? Tom replied after a short pause.
They uh, won't be needing her help anymore. Emelia answered almost immediately.
“Grim,” Tom muttered to himself.
A sudden knock made him put away his phone and sit upright, attempting to look more awake than he felt. A difficult task and one he wasn't even sure he had accomplished even after straightening his spine. A moment later the door opened, and a tired, but smiling young woman wearing mostly black entered the room.
Her long sleeve, skirt, choker, makeup, hair, rings, belt, and large, heavy shoes were all the same dark shade. In her hand was gripped a clipboard and on her face was a wide, genuine grin that put Tom at ease.
“Tom Williams?” she asked.
“That's me,” Tom replied.
“Great, one moment,” replied the girl.
She turned, pushed shut the door, and sat down across from the man, seating herself behind a slim desk. Though like most things in the underfunded clinic, the desk was old and partially damaged, it held up at least. The antique even contained a pen which the woman plucked from a cabinet and clicked several times before turning toward him.
“My name is Layla, and I’ll be assessing you today,” she stated.
“How does this work exactly, are you a doctor?” Tom inquired.
“The doctor on staff is actually out for the day,” Layla replied. “But I can assist in setting up your file and getting you started so this whole thing isn't a total waste.”
Tom sighed. “Just my luck.”
“Look. I know it isn't ideal, but it's late, and at least this way we can avoid all these questions if or when you come in tomorrow,” Layla offered.
“Sure, whatever,” Tom grouched.
“So, what brings you into the clinic?” Layla pressed, lifting her clipboard.
“Where to begin?” Tom muttered, leaning against the wall. “I couldn't sleep so my girlfriend got me these organic sleeping pills. I didn't think they’d work but that night I fell asleep almost instantly and had some of the wildest nightmares of my life.”
“Do you know what brand they were, or where she got them?” Layla asked.
“I don't know. I got the bottle at home though,” Tom remarked.
“If you do come back in then make sure you take a picture or bring the bottle with you. There's a reason a lot of those companies aren't allowed to stock their goods at normal stores,” Layla exclaimed.
“I didn't even think about that,” Tom admitted. “She’s usually so good at doing her own research.”
“Continuing on,” Layla offered, tapping her pen. “I doubt you would be coming here if it was just a few nightmares after taking some potentially sketchy pills.”
“Right,” Tom murmured. “In the dream, I got bitten by a wolf and it felt horrible. I remember the agony as it hung onto my arm, ripping through my flesh and tearing apart my muscle.”
“Is that why you keep scratching your arm?” Layla pressed.
Tom blinked and looked down to find that he was indeed clawing at his skin. “Err yeah. Shit. I didn't even notice,” he muttered.
“Just try not to. Continue,” Layla pressed.
“Right, so I had this horrible dream where I was this uh… female griffon,” Tom all but whispered. “And got attacked by a wolf. The first night ended with me passing out in my dream in front of this cabin in the woods. At which point I woke back up.”
“Huh. Interesting,” Layla murmured, hastily scratching down notes.
“But that's not all,” Tom continued. “I went to bed last night and the dream continued right where it left off. In fact, it was like the dream world was continuing while I was awake.”
“And you were a female griffon again?” Layla asked.
Tom blushed and nodded. “Yeah, it was weird, but not as weird as the whole getting bit thing. I didn't even know you could feel pain in dreams.”
“It's possible,” Layla muttered. “Though it usually means there is something wrong with the limbic centers of your brain. I’m just a med student though so don't jump to conclusions and think you have cancer or something crazy.”
“Right, yeah. Of course,” Tom murmured.
“So, the dream picked up back where it left off?” Layla prompted.
Tom nodded. “I walked around this weird griffon town chatting with people and a bunch of weird stuff happened. This one ended with me talking to a unicorn and falling asleep in a wagon, only to wake back up in the real world.”
“That certainly is… abnormal,” Layla remarked.
“You’re telling me. It feels like I’m losing my damn mind and it's hard to get a full night’s sleep when I’m living a whole other life whenever I close my eyes,” Tom exclaimed.
“I’m going to ask you a few questions now if that's alright with you?” Layla offered.
“Of course. Go ahead,” Tom replied.
“Have you been having any headaches, blurred vision, or difficulty concentrating these past few days?” Layla asked.
Tom shook his head. “No. I mean. I haven't exactly been feeling well-rested despite apparently sleeping sounder than the dead.”
“Hmm,” Layla hummed to herself. “Does your family have any history of heart disease?”
“Not that I’m aware,” Tom answered.
“One final one for now and I warn you this one may sound a little odd,” Layla warned.
“Shoot,”
“Do you frequently dream that you are a woman?” Layla pressed.
“I… a few times, why?” Tom inquired.
Layla shrugged. “I’ve had a few patients whose dysphoria comes out as frequent and intense dreams of being a different gender than the one they were born as.”
“Dysphoria… you think I’m trans?” Tom exclaimed in shock.
“It's just a possibility,” Layla replied, raising her hands defensively. “I’m not telling you how to feel or suggesting who you may or may not be.”
Tom sighed, his shoulders falling slack. “I mean. I was a little effeminate when I was younger, but I was just a late bloomer. I’m not trans.”
“Hey I’m not saying you are,” Layla repeated. “All I’m suggesting is that you should consider the possibility. I would also make an appointment with your family doctor as this might be something more serious than an identity crisis.”
Tom chuckled bitterly. “That's just what I need. As if my life could get any worse.”
“Hey, it's alright,” Layla exclaimed, gently taking Tom’s hand and clutching it in her own. “My girlfriend used to be my boyfriend at one point and she came out the other side happier the other. In less than a year she was able to take herself off her anxiety medication and hasn't needed to renew her prescription for fluoxetine in months.”
“That's great for them,” Tom muttered absently.
“She came out of the experience happier, healthier, and a whole new person. Again, that might not be you but just think about it okay?” Layla pressed, giving his hand a squeeze.
Tom nodded. “I will.”
Tom gently opened the covers and slipped beneath them, warry of waking up his sleeping partner. His efforts were in vain, however, as the young woman rolled over, and opened her eyes, blinking rapidly.
“Oh hey,” she murmured. “I didn't hear you come in.”
“I was trying to be quiet,” Tom replied. “It was a long drive from the clinic.”
“What did they say?” Emelia inquired.
“They think I might have something wrong with my brain, or it might be something else entirely,” Tom answered, the second half barely coming out louder than a whisper.
“What, really?” Emelia asked, pushing herself up on an elbow.
“It's just a possibility,” Tom cautioned. “And the doctor wasn't in so I couldn't even know for sure.”
Emelia relaxed, falling back to the bed. “What was the other thing?”
“Well the nurse thought I might… possibly,” Tom hesitated a moment. “Be trans.”
Emelia blinked slowly. “Really?”
“She said that there are others who have experienced something like I have who ended up being… you know,” Tom muttered.
“That certainly is a lot. How are you holding up?” Emelia gently inquired.
“Honestly? I’m not sure which I hope it is,” Tom murmured half to himself. “At least if its some kind of tumor it can be cut out of me.”
“You shouldn't hope for a tumor,” Emelia pointed out.
“It sure would be easier. Maybe then I could finally get some time off,” Tom remarked.
Emelia took her partner's hand in her own and squeezed gently. “Either way we’ll get through it together.”
“Babe would you still…” Tom hesitated, his expression darkening. “Still love me if I was a girl?”
Emelia blinked several times, releasing her hold on Tom’s hand for a moment before gripping it once more.
“Of course dear,” she exclaimed. “You’d still be that wonderful man- er person who stole my heart all those years ago.”
“Thanks,” Tom whispered.
“Now get some rest. You have an early shift tomorrow morning and you can't sleep in again unless you feel like calling in sick,” Emelia offered.
“Err right. Can't do that,” he muttered.
“Good night sweety,” Emelia exclaimed.
The woman then rolled back onto her side, turning away from Tom, who lay there in silence, staring at the ceiling. Extending a hand, he imagined what his nails would look like with polish on them, or if they weren't so darn short. The thought made a strange feeling of repulsion well in his chest, causing him to quickly tuck his arm back under the covers.
Let's just try and get some sleep. He thought quietly to himself. Maybe tonight I won't wake up as her and I can instead dream of running my own business or something normal.
Closing his eyes, the man tried to think of something other than Gluey, and his dream life. Yet no matter how hard he tried, Tom couldn't help but think back to where he had left off. Of Trixie, of her wagon, of the strange forest he had woken up in a few days ago, and of the strange predicament, he was in.
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.”
Tom woke not with a gasp, but a sigh, the man staring up at the ceiling for nearly a minute before even looking around. He found Emelia laying next to him, her expression serene as she lay on her back, still fast asleep. Though tempted to check his schedule, and begin rushing off to work, he remembered that he didn't start till mid-afternoon.
A glance at the clock on the bedside table confirmed that it was late, nearly noon, but not nearly so late that he had to rush. So he merely lay there, hands clasped over his chest as he stared off into space, mind wandering back to the night’s events. He thought long and hard about what had happened, pondering their significance and what it all meant for himself.
His thoughts were interrupted when Emelia yawned, and rolled over, staring up at Tom with wide eyes.
“Oh hey, mornin,” she murmured groggily.
“Afternoon actually,” Tom corrected.
“Mmm whatever,” Emelia replied. “What time is it?”
“Twelve oh two,” Tom answered. “Wanna grab some breakfast?”
“Yeah that sounds great but I kinda wanna just lay here a bit,” Emelia replied, yawning a second time. “Shake off the cobwebs if you catch my drift.”
Tom chuckled. “Oh, I think I do.”
Tom plodded through the kitchen, a pair of boxers hanging from his skeletal frame. His loose shirt hung weakly around his shoulders, barely staying on his body at all. He tugged absently on the piece of cloth while he waited for the coffee machine to work, the dull drip being the only sign it was even on.
In the distance, he could hear the shower running, and though he felt tempted to join his girlfriend, he resisted. Embarrassment still burned hot in his chest, and he distracted himself by putting together a modest breakfast of eggs on toast. Once they were done, and the condiments were laid out, Emelia made her appearance, a towel wrapped around her head.
“So,” she began, sitting down at the table. “What happened back there?”
“I just… I couldn't stop going back to my dream and so when we were intimate I just… spoke without thinking,” Tom muttered absently, staring down at his hands.
“You called me Trixie,” Emelia deadpanned.
Tom winced, his shoulders pulling inwards. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Do you… even know a Trixie?” Emelia pressed.
“Only in the dream,” Tom admitted.
Emelia sighed. “You know what. I think I’m going to take this as a compliment.”
“Oh thank god,” Tom muttered. “I felt so bad I even made your eggs in a smiley face.”
Emelia looked down and giggled at the grinning egg sandwich sitting on a plate before her. “Oh, you goober. I could never stay mad at you. Just, please don't do it again. I don't think there is a worse turn-off out there.”
“What about…” Tom tapped his chin. “I’m voting for trump this November?”
Emelia gagged. “Okay let's not rush to the bottom of the barrel here.”
“Or… I support the repeal of Roe v Wade,” Tom added.
“Stop,” Emelia demanded halfheartedly, the girl holding back a laugh. “I don't know if I can get any dryer.”
“Well at least we figured out a good alternative to blow dryers,” Tom exclaimed.
Emelia giggled. “Why can't you be this funny when you don't feel awkward?”
“My sense of humor is like a piece of coal, only turns to diamonds when under pressure,” Tom explained.
Emelia squirted a liberal application of mustard onto her egg before placing the second slice of toast overtop. She was about to take a bite when she stopped herself at the last minute.
“Say,” Emelia remarked. “What was this dream about anyway?”
“Well,” Tom began, smattering a fine layer of hot sauce over his eggs. “I was a griffon again.”
“Griffoness,” Emelia corrected.
“Yes, right,” Tom admitted. “Anyway so I was back with erm… she who shall not be named, and we were going back to her home country, but it was a long journey.”
“Equestria, right?” Emelia inquired before taking a bite of her food.
“Yeah that's it,” Tom answered. “But uh, she who shall not be named, had to stop at this town in order to buy this kinda creepy necklace thingy. Which didn't exactly work out the best, as a bunch of pitchfork-wielding griffons nearly chased her out of town.”
Emelia swallowed hard. “Did she have to use her magic to blast them?”
Tom chuckled. “No, nothing like that. We just proved she wasn't a thief, and then left. We retired for the night in a nearby abandoned farm.”
The man stopped himself before adding that they had fallen asleep in one another’s arms. Something told him that talking about that particular event would put him firmly back into the doghouse. Since he wasn't exactly interested in sleeping on the couch, he held back and took a large bite out of his sandwich.
“So, that was it?” Emelia asked.
Tom gulped. “Uh yeah. Why do you ask?”
“Well, it's just… you seemed kinda morose,” Emelia remarked. “Like you were sad for some reason.”
“I…” Tom paused. “I think that I was a bit disappointed.”
“How so?” Emelia pressed.
“I was a bit disappointed that I…” Tom hesitated again, biting his bottom lip briefly and staring at his girlfriend.
She wore a sympathetic, concerned expression on her face, and was staring intently at him. There was no hint of trepidation or malevolence in her eyes, just worry, worry directed his way.
“I think I liked being a girl,” Tom admitted after several tense seconds.
Emelia opened her mouth to reply, then stopped herself, and sat quietly for a moment before rising from her seat. She then walked around the small table and pulled Tom’s head against her chest, a hand laying atop his head. Like a dam breaking, Tom felt tears spring to his eyes, and he wrapped his arms about the girl’s midsection.
“There there. It's okay. I accept you,” Emelia murmured.
Tom sobbed hard, face pressed against his girlfriend's pajama shirt, staining it with his confused tears. The flood of emotion didn't last long, and soon he was just sitting there, breathing heavily. Slowly the male gathered his senses and wiped away the last remnants of his emotional outburst.
“Th-thanks,” Tom murmured.
“It's no trouble, babe,” Emelia whispered. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Maybe eventually,” Tom muttered absently, sleeve wiping across his face. “I don't know about right now though.”
“Well let's start working towards that then. Like, would you prefer I call you a different name or use she her pronouns for you?” Emelia asked.
“Tom’s okay for now but…” Tom hesitated a moment before nodding. “Yes, I think I’d like that. Just for today though. I’ll see how I feel about everything tomorrow.”’
“That's… great,” Emelia exclaimed, taking a step back. “Really great.”
“You don't seem convinced,” Tom pointed out.
“I’m not a lesbian,” Emelia replied. “But I also wasn't interested in humans at all before I met you. Noone really sparked that interest in me, so I think… I think we can still work.”
Tom’s eyes went wide and she stood up, gripping her girlfriend's hand. “In that case I won't, just forget the entire thing even happened. I’m still just your boyfriend, Tom.”
“No,” Emelia retorted softly. “You’ve battled depression and anxiety for as long as I’ve known you. If this is what finally alleviates all that then I can't stand in the way of that.”
“But we can't know for certain if it will help,” Tom pressed.
“Yes, but you must at least try. You know how important transitioning is to people like you,” Emelia exclaimed.
“I… I just don't want to lose you,” Tom admitted.
Emelia smiled and pulled the other girl close. “And I don't want to lose you either. Look, the absolute worst-case scenario is that we end up as incredibly close friends. That wouldn't be too bad, right?”
“Still,” Tom murmured.
“Hey, it hasn't come to that yet. We’re still trying things out,” Emelia offered.
Tom nodded. “Your right. I just… I don't know what I’d do without you.”
“I promise that no matter what happens I will never abandon you,” Emelia insisted.
Tom wrapped her arms around her partner and squeezed her midsection. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Emelia mirrored.
The pair hugged one another tightly, their lips meeting a second later. The embrace ended a moment later before suddenly happening all over again only this time much more passionately. Relief turned to desire, and with the weight of self-deception lifted from Tom’s shoulders, the girl’s chest filled with lust.
“I need you,” whispered the former male. “So badly.”
Emelia giggled. “Trying to make up for your previous snafu, are you?”
“Oh I’m going to make up for all that and then some,” Tom exclaimed.
“Alright, but I just showered so you better knock my socks off mister, err missus,” Emelia grimaced.
“Now who's got something to make up for?” Tom teased, shooting the other girl a smirk.
“I guess there's only one way we can resolve this,” Emelia replied.
Tom grinned. “I guess so.”
Tom collapsed to the bed, her bare chest heaving as she lay sprawled out across the bed, a towel covering her waist. Nude save for that strip of fluffy cloth, the girl still felt incredibly hot and even the cool water from the shower didn't help. The only sound was her labored breathing, as well as the whir of the small fan turning in the corner of the room.
Light spilling in from the hallway illuminated little and was not helped much by the street lights outside her window. Most of the space was cast in shadow, but Tom had long since memorized where everything was. So she was easily able to locate her phone on the headboard, and grab it, flicking it on and glancing at the time.
11:30 PM read the clock.
“Augh,” Tom groaned. “That shift was so long.”
“I’ll say,” Emelia added, the woman appearing in the doorway with two mugs of hot cacao in her grip. “How'd it go anyway? Did you talk to your employers and friends about potentially getting a pronoun switch?”
“I er… sort of,” Tom admitted.
The exhausted girl sat up in the bed just as she was joined by Emelia, the other woman handing her a cup. Together they sat at the edge, hands either interlocked or holding their warm beverage.
“My employers were perhaps the easiest,” Tom explained after a long pause followed by an equally lengthy sip of the chocolatey drink. “Though I guess that's expected considering we live in a more progressive area of a more progressive state.”
“Well that's good,” Emelia prompted, squeezing her partner’s hand.
“Like, so I went into my boss's office and-” Tom began.
“Hey uh, Steve,” Tom whispered, knocking twice on the open door and peering inside.
Inside sat an overweight, nearly middle-aged white man with a receding hairline and a near-permanent scowl. Who looked up from his crossword puzzle, and somehow managed to frown even harder than before.
“Don't tell me you need another day off. You just had one,” Steve retorted.
Tom winced. “That was nearly four months ago, but that doesn't matter. I was just here to ask you a quick question.”
“Make it quick,” Steve exclaimed.
“Would you mind if I changed the pronouns on my name tag to she her and would be referred to as such in company emails?” Tom asked timidly.
Steve blinked several times before releasing a snort. “That's what you came in here to ask me? I don't care what anyone calls you or what you have written on that tag so long as it isn't vulgar. Now get back to work. I think that librarian is back again and I want to see her carrying an entire armload of books when she leaves.”
“Uh yes sir. Right away sir,” Tom murmured, ducking out of the room.
“Damn kids these days, thinking I give a shit about their pronouns,” Steve muttered to himself.
“Well, that's…” Emelia frowned. “Good? I’m not sure how to react to that.”
“It's also about how well things went at my second job, just with the addition of misgendering me a few times and a veiled insult about ‘us transes’,” Tom continued, adding air quotes to the last two words.
“Well that's to be expected,” Emelia murmured. “But what about your friends?”
“Noone cared,” Tom replied with a chuckle. “Heck I think I might have made John twenty bucks. Turns out they had a running bet on who would come out next and it was between me and William who everyone thinks is gay.”
“You mean Willy?” Emelia scoffed. “No way is he gay. Flamboyant sure, but he's as straight as they come.”
“Your that certain?” Tom asked.
Emelia nodded. “I knew someone just like him back home, trust me. He's not gay.”
Tom shrugged. “Either way they were either happy for me or didn't care which is nice too.”
“Well, that's great. So are you going to keep doing this, or are you going back to my boyfriend again?” Emelia asked.
“No,” Tom immediately replied, only to clear her throat. “I mean, no. This was… one of the best days that I can remember and I don't think I could go back, not after everyone accepted me like that.”
“Everyone? Did you tell your parents?”
Tom blanched, her shoulders tensed, and she clutched the steaming beverage with both hands.
“No,” she whispered. “I… don't think I’ll tell them, not for a while at least. They wouldn't understand.”
“Look I know your parents are a bit… distant but you should tell them at least,” Emelia pressed.
Tom shook her head violently. “Nuh-uh, no way. They can't know. They wouldn't understand and my mother… my mother would…”
“Look just think about it okay? They’ll find out eventually anyway and if they don't find out through you then it's going to be an even bigger shit show,” Emelia explained.
“Right,” Tom admitted reluctantly. “I’ll send dad a message in a few days just give me some time to gather my nerve.”
“No rush. I’m just trying to help,” Emelia whispered.
Tom nodded. “I think I’m going to go sit in the living room for a bit. I need to be alone with my thoughts.”
“Take all the time you need baby. I’ll be here,” Emelia exclaimed.
Tom rose from the bed, and walked out of the room, sipping her drink as he moved down the hallway. By the time she reached the end of the hallway, the cup was empty and she placed it near the sink before plunking down on the couch. There she sat, gaze going to the large windows and the city that lay just beyond the glass barrier.
She wondered if what she was doing was right if it was worth the pain that she knew was coming. Then she remembered how incredible it felt to be called, her and to be referred to as a woman. It made her heart flutter, and her eyes moisten with tears, banishing any lingering worries she may have.
It all made so much sense all of a sudden, the awkward teenage years, her complete inability to keep a partner that was Emelia. Her feminine nature, how easy it was to adapt to nightly life as a female mythological creature. It all pointed to the same startling simple solution.
She was trans and had been for a long time. Now she was finally realizing that.
With a smile on her face, she leaned back and stared up at the ceiling her entire body relaxing in a way that it never had. A weight had been lifted, and with its release came a flood of endorphins that made the girl giddy with excitement. Sleep found her not long after, the sudden wave of exhaustion embraced by the girl eager to return to a body that she felt a closer kinship to than the one she had been born in.
