A dreamless sleep connected a sombre night of depressed thoughts to the awakening haze of a new day. He awoke to a rough, invasive morning that coldly shunned away any form of comfort. Sammy felts the awkward aches of sleeping on the floor, a thin layer of animal skins separating him from the hard ground. Warmth coated his back, about as comforting as a stranger leaning against him. He nuzzled into his impromptu pillow, bringing his chin closer to his chest. A square ring pressed into his cheek, but he was willing to move.

His clouded mind cleared almost instantaneously. Groggy was an apt word for his mood every morning; he hated rising out of bed as the world felt heavy. There was the pointless battle of trying to ease into the early waking hours, the diplomatic move to remain in bed for another five minutes just to be up an about when the minute hand rested upon a unit of ten.

This morning was different in that it was all of this but sped up.

Like a spring loaded trap, as soon as he was awake he sat up. An impression of one of his bag buckles, used to seal the bag, was on his left cheek. His beady eyes squinted as his vision adjusted, never the less inspecting the surroundings.

He was in the ‘room’ he first appeared in. It was more of a cleanly mined cavern, shaped to form a cylindrical space with a hole that served as the entrance. He hardly had time to take get a good look the first time, what with fleeing in terror taking priority. It was incredibly spacious, practically spartan save for the neatly stacked block of bits to the far left.

He noted that he had nothing to do with that, alongside the fact that said block was approximate in size to a car.

In the centre was bonfire with no obvious source of fuel. The white flames swayed silently and provided the stuffy atmosphere that constricted him. He regarded the base of the fire, wincing as his eyes were still yet to adjust, but took note in the wide scorch mark that lead to a spot to his right. It was as if a previous fire had ran off, singing the ground black in it wake.

‘I wonder if I had anything to do with that?’ The first thought of the new day brought him back to the previous night. He was still tender about the instant departing, and the haunting moment of being denied a return trip home tormented him. He rubbed his eyes, vigorously purging his them of crusted sleep.

He shook his head, rolling onto all fours. He couldn’t afford to think like that anymore. No, not true. He was still willing to, but the issue was that he wasn’t sure how much was healthy and how much would hinder him. He simply wanted to move and to get home. He stood on his knees, his hands slowly dragging down his face.

‘Okay, I’m awake after sleeping, meaning that my options are that I was dreaming in my dream or this is reality. A new reality, but real all the same.’ Though partial for the second option, he couldn’t outright cast away the previous notion that this was a dream. He felt pain, from the now dried cut on his cheek to every sharp prod form the dragoness. ’Admitting this is a reality implies that the dragon is real,’ he thought, switching to sitting on his backside when his knees became uncomfortable.

He cocked his head to the left as his thoughts shifted.

If he believed that this was a dream, then he would only need to be shocked into awakening, or to simply wait for his sleep to end. In a way, this would make sense if he was suffering from a fever dream. His last memories of earth were that of a collapsing due to an overwhelming heat flush. But, then what of the pains and the re-awakening’ dream? He wasn’t too sure about how long a fever dream lasted- a logical presumption was that they lasted for as long as the fever did.

‘Are these dreams lucid?’

He bit his lip as he contemplated. He couldn’t remember the last lucid dream he had, or if he ever had one to begin with. He knew that dreams were the salvaged images our memories could collect, but they were random, and he had never dreamt about dragons or My Little Pony.

His head rolled to the right, an amused scoff being puffed out.

‘It certainly is a first, and hardly gentle. Where’s the forest to guide me to Ponyville where I may partake in many a human-pony endeavour?’

Sammy sighed, rubbing the buckle imprint away as his glanced idly around the room. There really wasn’t more to take in, he simply let his eyes wander as his mind wondered.

‘The reality shtick on the other hand…’ he began to ponder with his eyes on the white fire, ‘Being magically transported to another reality means that I can be moved back, I just need to find out how.’ Sammy decided that perhaps a pleasant morning chat with his hostess/kidnapper would be a good place to start. Whilst he had his mind set firmly that this was real, the possibility of waking abruptly circled his mind like a vulture. He could return to his world halfway through leaving the cave. Regardless, that would be an event that would reveal itself in time, if at all.

‘It wouldn’t be a productive use of my time to wait for a miracle,’ he thought with a frown.

‘Where there is a will, there is a way’ can be considered the personal mantra of any ambitious human. Their desires can support them for as long as their hopes are fed, and Sammy’s growing hope was to return home. It was nothing more than a speck of light, but he refused to believe that he couldn’t get home. Perhaps it was simple, nay vague, but he was confident that he would walk the road home wherever it took him.

He just needed to find his first step.

Right after he took inventory.

“Forgot to do this last night,” he muttered, reaching for the bag he rested his head on all night, “Too busy moping.” Pulling it onto his lap, he beamed a smile as he flipped open the lip. With a cheery tone to match his chipper look he said, “But on the positive side I believe I’ve met for quota for now!” His smile snapped back flat as his face took a more neutral expression.

As expected, four books remained: his psychology book on cognitive thoughts and the biological aspects of the mind had a few sticky notes missing, he was sure. His chemistry book was as thick hardback, and forefront in the offense against his face last night. The thick Spanish book had seen better days, the cover dog eared a few pages into the book. Another book was a new journal, essentially useful for his doodles, tracking important dates and being spare paper.

He set them to the side and continued routing around for the other items he believed were still in there.

He found his digital watch, the fact that the cyan backlight worked brought an ecstatic grin to his maw. Sammy had never been so happy to see the sleek, black device in all his days. He pushed a button on the side, and could see the light bulb shine brightly at the top. He had to remove his watch for a practical experiment the day prior to his ‘journey’ and simply forgot to put it back on.

‘I should probably conserve that, he realised as he rolled his grey sleeves up and attached the watch to his wrist. Though the time said it was near eleven in the morning, until he could confirm that, he could call his watch reliable. To presume England’s time zone was exactly the same as where ever he actually was seemed ignorant. He’d need to fix that but it wasn’t a priority.

Delving back in, his hand gripped two items. One rustled in his grasp, the other resisted and croaked as the plastic dented between his fingers. Retrieving his haul, he pulled out a blueberry muffin in the wrapper and a plastic carton of razor caps. He needed to replace the dulled ones for his razor back home, seeing as Movember was finally coming to an end soon enough.

Sammy gave a half smile at his load, idly running his hand over the healed cut on his cheek. He could feel the thin scab line amongst the facial fuzz, opting to postpone shaving.

“It’s all useless,” he whispered, rolling his head to the left. He rubbed his eyes of lingering sleep before reaching for the muffin. “Out of everything here, all I have is a small breakfast.” Seeing as he wasn’t hungry yet, he simply eyed the treat in his palm. “Most people get their phones but-“

His phone! Sammy’s head snapped towards his pockets, the muffin falling as his hands scrambled for his pockets. There were no signs of the familiar, thin cuboid protrusion in his jeans as he patted down. He huffed before frowning, his glance shifting to the charred trail close by. He did a double take as he remembered thinking that the burned spot by the wall may have indicated where he came into this world.

Alas, with his hopes high he looked over for his Iphone, but found no sign of perhaps the most technologically advanced paper weight in this world.

“Probably couldn’t get signal anyhow…” he realised with a sigh. His head tilted the right as he reached for the razor packet by his side. “Apple would probably sue Twilight if she could replicate it anyhow,” he mused, before seemingly brightening up, “Or use unicorns as a more efficient manufacturing process.”

Having collected his gear, Sammy stored all but the squished muffin and watch. He climbed shakily to his feet, his arms reflexively extending a little to offer balance. He managed to pop his back a few times, groaning with satisfaction before popping his neck. With a minimal sense of comfort, in the form of his slightly smushed muffin and a digital watch, Sammy decided he was off to a good start this morning, all things considered.

Then he thought about the dragoness, Lady Ivory as she like to call herself.

His contempt and animosity towards her reignited, surfacing as a darkening scowl pointed towards the exit. The smoothly carved tunnel once housed a large dragon head, as to why she needed this space he supposed he could ask, but the face of the one who summoned him only darkened his mood.

‘I still can’t believe it,’ he brooded, taking a step, ‘I’m here because the overgrown gecko wanted a servant. You would think that magical servants could be bought somewhere, next door to where Harry got his wand or something.’

He decided to give the mystical fire a wide birth, partly due to its creepy arcane nature, but mostly common sense in regards to fire safety: keep a good distance from a fire at all times.

“And that’s why I’m the life of the party,” he said offhandedly, his mind returning him to important matter: the white bitch who did this to him. He couldn’t exactly tell what the reasoning behind was behind magicians deciding to mess with the universe, or as the case was (or may have been if he was dreaming), messing other universes.

Sammy skirted close to the wall, one hand tidying his morning hair. It was proving difficult to part his hair at the front with one hand, but he didn’t mind. He was still contemplating how stupid such a notion was, and how he was going to have to convince himself that said notion was real and happened: a dragon had burnt a human into existence in what may or may not be a fictional universe.

He groaned as he crossed over the room, shaking his head as he began navigate the passageway. His hunger set it, his stomach announcing its distress through a long gurgle. He tore into the wrapper and took a bite, savouring the flavour. He repressed a satisfied smile in favour as he chewed, fully removing the muffin from the packet.

He mulled over his situation as he turned in time with the passage, his head falling to the right. He regarded the wrapper briefly before shrugging and pocketing it. He wasn’t a litter bug, after all, and it was just rude to drop rubbish in other people’s homes.

’Besides,’ he thought, flinching as a wall mounted torch ignited itself with a white flame, ‘That just seems petty. If I want to do real damage, I’ll just throw a few more gemstones out of the cave. That seems to work.’ The journey was short lived, as was the muffin, and so he emerged from an archway into a small library of sorts whilst clearing a few crumbs from his chest.

Here the immense size of the cave sapped all the warmth he had come accustomed to back in his temporal abode. Eight columns of ornate book shelves stood side by side, evenly placed with only a few that were partially packed. Spotting the sight of snow white and shinning gold, he made his way easily through the polished brown shelves. He counted that there were only five rows to each column, but the thought quickly died as he stopped at the edge of the ridge. His eyes widened, not because he was stunned, but because he couldn’t believe he hadn’t acknowledges how massive this hoard was.

It was almost serene, the hypnotic effect of immense wealth and fortune calming him as he scanned the heart of the cave. It was likely the size of his college campus.In the centre was a glistening, ivory mound.

The dragoness had returned to full size, her neck curling against a hill of riches as slumbered. She slept on her stomach, shoulder deep in her glorious collection. Wisps of white smoke trailed away from her snout and her tail writhed from beneath. The fact that she was enormous generated an echoing cascade of jingling coins that he could hear as her tail surfaced. Her wings twitched, a sign of her awakening as countless bits poured from her form.

He watched as her impressive build writhed and stretched beneath the hoard, her head burrowing into the hill she slept against. Finally, her sleek face stirred, a light groan resonating from her throat. Sleepily, Lady Ivory raised her swanlike neck and seemingly dragged her head away from her precious pillow.

Sammy opted to sit with his legs dangling over the edge, estimating it would be a few meters drop from the ledge to the golden ocean. It was still rather difficult to take in that he was watching a dragoness awake. He was no longer feeling melancholy for being torn from home. Instead there was a sense of awe to everything he started to take in. He cocked his head to the right as he regarded the tired dragon before him.

He watched Lady Ivory yawn with grace into her white claw, listening the waterfall of gems crash down from where they slipped off her arm. He wasn’t immune to the nagging sense of how wrong it was to even contemplate putting everything off pause and simply studying this new world. The sense of wonderment came with the backstabbing guilt; how could he even dare to think about abandoning his home for the sake of learning about this world?

‘Because I’m that kind of human?’

The coins he returned to stare at held no answer, but had lead him to a new query, another problem that paled in comparison to the major issue: how was he going to get home? No. This question was as to why he was not sobbing more, why he was even up and about listening to a dragoness shake lose thousands worth of gold from her between her wings?

He needed this introspection, most of last night was all moping and no progress. It was just a blur. He hated that. Being…stuck. It was a constant annoyance of his when he couldn’t quite get something right in a practical experiment, or when he was explained a scientific concept that he needed to hear again and again.

It was… a sign of being incapable. He wasn’t too fond of that.

‘So am I now regarding why I’m up an about because I have nothing else to do, or because I don’t know what to do?’he pondered with his head to the left, resting on his shoulder. It was a disturbing notion, but then again he hadn’t really heard of how to react to such a scenario. He had expectations, he had read a few fan made stories about how a human should react, and the scope covered all kinds of reactions. He did long foe home, a reassuring sign of he wasn’t one for apathy in a time of crises.

‘Now I’m basing my current psychological state on what other people have written about first contact with fictional ponies?’ His musing brought a wry grin as he was once again reminded how absurd his position was. He knew something was off when he bolted up to scan his surroundings as soon as he was conscious, it was as if he was prepared.

‘I need Kubler Ross to help here: what happens when someone becomes aware they may be going through the stages of grief in the wrong order?’ Sammy was aware of the stages of grief, but until a previous psychological lesson he was not aware that one could go through them in any order, sometimes repeating certain stages. Then again, the stages of mourning were for the death of loved one, not being separated from home. How applicable it was something he’d have to determine. Sammy wasn’t aware of what it all meant for him currently, but he took a small amount of comfort in knowing what to look for.

He couldn’t believe what happened to him, he wasn’t exactly pleased with the still stretching dragoness before him, and he had already planned on getting home no matter the cost.

‘Denial, anger, and perhaps bargaining if it was loosely defined. Freud on crack, I’m just delaying depression with distraction, aren’t I?’

An answer never struck him as, upon regarding Lady Ivory one again, he found her arching her lower back and curling her tail over enough to almost touch between the bases of her horns. He was spared of anything revealing, his eyes glancing away to focus on her face instead.

It was rude to stare.

So he made eye contact.

Very awkward eye contact.

There was a long pause as neither spoke a word, Ivory frozen with her backside in the air and him refusing to allow anything but a shaky poker face.

So despite that it was rude, it was somehow compulsory to stare now.

“I wasn’t staring!” he defended, raising his hands. He nearly slipped off, but steadied himself. It was true, he had no interest in that region of her form, a leg was a leg and a tail was tail. That was all he needed to know about down there.

“What?” Her voice bound around the entire cavern, the shock in her tone slamming into him.

“Good morning!” he blurted, feeling the need to break the oppressive silence. Her rump gently descended, her tail protectively curly around her side between the two. She didn’t seem embarrassed, the only indication of it possibly bothering her in that she turned away and found the base of her pillow-hill interesting. He doubted he could spot a blush if there ever was one.

“Good morning,” she returned with her soft voice. The echo of her refined dialect hardly lingered as she brought her gaze back to him. She slinked through the hoard towards him as if it were a pool for her enjoyment. She tilted her head to the side, regarding him with curious sapphire eyes. “Are you… in a better state of mind?”

Sammy believed that Ivory was about to ask him if he was in fact, well or feeling better. The truth was his anger for her actions were bottled for his sake, if not hers. A creeping realisation that this was an accident was attacking him, aggravating him. He knew he should be enraged, and that this furry was a good sign, but he wasn’t too sure in what direction he should point his rage anymore. Still, he was simmering, stable but it could be temporal, and he placed all his misfortune squarely on her shoulders.

He wouldn’t be uncivil, however.

There was also the fact that she could barbeque him whenever she saw fit that caused him to withhold his tongue.

“I’m calm-ish. Just started contemplating why I’m not still weeping in the corner,” he admitted, watching her draconic face come to a stop a few feet away. It was slightly off putting to be talking to someone knowing one could fit inside their mouth. He leant back and supported himself on his elbows, gazing toward the ceiling. “I guess I’m just too eager to get back home,” he added with a half-smile.

She closed her eyes and shook her head before exhaling a long sigh.

“I thought I made this clear, I am unable to return you from whence you came any time soon: it would be years before I am able to cast flame that can link to your world, more to time to properly tune it to sending rather than retrieving.” Her expression fell into a forlorn look, guilt shimmering in her eyes.

Sammy remained quiet underneath her watchful gaze, his head leaning forward so that he could observe his kneecaps, as his shins still hung over the edge. He wasn’t certain how to react to that, it was a cold hard fact he heard the night before, and it was still the cold hard fact he was expecting. In a way he was simply double checking before even considering the alternatives. He scratched his chin, his fuzz crinkling as he put the words of his next question together.

“Could you, uh, could you explain where you get your magic from?” he inquired, sounding a little upbeat to mask his disappointment, “It would help me if I could understand how this magic thing actually works. All I heard was you eat gemstones because they’re like magical sponges, and I can only assume something must be preventing you from eating your hoard in order to make up for your mistake.” He finished, regarding her with a small frown that lingered long enough to be seen. Once Sammy was certain she noticed, he contorted his expression to a studious form, his curious eyes staring back at her.

“Your analogy is simple,” she began, as a teacher would to a pupil who was ill-informed, “It is painfully simple.” She nodded before scooping up a claw full of treasure. He then witnessed her scraping off over two thirds of the bounty. “It is in our nature to consume greedily, carelessly. Our magical prowess is determined by what we put in, and to achieve high-tiered flames, we need specific minerals of finer quality.”

He watched her use her other claw to pinch some gemstones before placing them in her mouth. She continued to eat from her claw is if she was routing out her favourite coloured skittles. Sammy’s immediate impression was that she was caring for her figure, and that she was on a diet. As his face darkened, however, he kept his mouth shut and listened.

“The better our diet, the better our magic, and the longer we stick to the diet, the higher tiered flames we can cast. Fire and relocating objects require little for us,” she replied before downing the rest of her meal. She scratched the back of her neck as Sammy contemplated, before speaking up. “Again, even that is another too simple of an analogy. Tell me, Sammy Wright, what are dietary needs of a human?”

“We’re omnivorous, we need a good balance of meats and certain plants. I think it’s either protein or carbohydrates, maybe both that are a big deal for us,” Sammy replied as he pushed himself away from the edge. He sat cross legged as he pondered over what he had stated, realising that unless he could chew metal, he had no source of nourishment.

“Omnivore, so few sapient species are lucky enough to have such a broad diet,” Ivory commented, smiling. “There isn’t a term for one who can devour fauna, flora, and minerals in this tongue, but it’s safe to say that I am a carnivore, herbivore and a mineral-vore, heh.” She paused to scan towards far right of the cave, turning back speak.

“I’m rather interested in how your body uses protein to fuel your magic, it is not something that you would find in any other arcane gifted creature.”

“We can’t use magic,” he replied curtly, “Please listen carefully, because I’m only going to say this once: humans are incapable of magic, in the universe- or realm as you said- where we come from.” He crossed his arms and gazed up to her, a stern glare pointed at her. “I’m guessing that is something unheard of here? A completely non-magical being?”

“Yes, actually,” she replied, with a tone of voice that peaked with her interest, “Every creature has grown alongside magic, and it touches our very souls. What is odd is that if you have no magic before, then how did you conjure fire from the ruby?”
As soon as the event from before was recalled, he flinched. Ivory cocked an eyebrow and watched him rub his temples.

“Something the matter?”

“It’s probably just something the powerful, magical, mythical, talking dragon can’t fix…” he replied, with a shrug and pleasant smile. “Nothing to worry about, besides you know, the fact that I set myself on fire because I touched my first ruby.”

“Ah, I thought it was something serious for a second there,” she fired back, smirking as she inspected her claw. Sammy pressed his tongue into his cheek, suppressing his wounded pride from kicking off. She stopped and blinked, before bringing a claw to her chin.

“Hmmm, it would tie into why you, as a human, not you in particular despite the circumstance, were picked out,” she said with a ponderous look. He cocked his head to the side and held a look that simply said ‘please, enlighten me.’

“I wanted a servant who could enchant and manipulate my gems, making them more powerful, rare, and delectable if the story rung true. Perhaps humans where you come from have the innate ability, but without magic it cannot be called upon. Maybe it’s due to how my magic comes from the magic I absorb when I digest a gemstone.” She lowered her head to rest her chin upon the ledge, a few feet to the left. Her snout alone was the size of van, and her remorseful eyes bore into him.

“I’m sorry, I truly am…” She stopped when he raised his hand. He paused, letting his narrowed glare speak for him in the regards to this subject. Sammy was finding it difficult to forgive her for what she had done, his contempt forming solid foundations. Yet, despite how justified he felt in despising her, he could believe she was sincere with her apologies. It was as if this new island of bottled anger was already beginning to erode away whenever he glanced into her cool blue eyes.

However, he doubted he would be in mood to forgive her. Ever. No matter how many times she apologised.

It actually disturbed him.

“I… don’t want to concentrate on what you can’t fix,” he said, ending with a wince. “That didn’t come out right… Look, I just want to get home, and if you can’t help me, then who can?” Ivory closed her large eye and contemplated whilst Sammy sat and waited. He already had a decent idea of who could help him, but he had little idea as to where Equestria was to his current location.

“There are other civilisations with other magics,” she began, her words seemingly spoken with extra clarity, “To what extent of their abilities, I am not certain. There are the Diamond dogs, and in all my years I have only ever witnessed one cast a spell. It was not anything spectacular, but was still a great feat for one as old as he. Perhaps great age and training brings out the arcane gift, I am not certain.” She pointed her head towards the right once more, “They are the closest to my home, one of their larger cities hidden in the mountain along the river I drink from.”

Sammy nodded, contemplating that option. His knowledge of the show depicted them as greedy, almost tribal savages. He doubted it would be worth the time spent traveling to them, but again he couldn’t rule out the option. He wasn’t one for stereotypes or prejudice when meeting with others; he didn’t consider such a thing as a part of the modern age. He still needed to be wary, however.

“Are they friendly?” he asked, earning a bob of the head from the dragoness.

“Fairly- very possessive of what’s theirs, could be theirs, but they are otherwise pleasant,” she relayed with a positive tone. “Oh, and this is what I heard from the last band of adventurers, don’t touch anything in their mines. I believe that you need to be invited into a mine, or kidnapped, and even then you have to do exactly what they say.”

He shrugged and grinned.

“I’m a dog person, I know when I might get bitten.” He gave a rumbling chuckle as she rolled her eyes. When they settled, he found that Ivory was regarding him with an odd stare. If fled, like a comment one was tempted to make but let slip back down their throat.

“So… this river?” he asked, still looking for progress.

“Oh, it runs through the base of the mountain, over there.” She pointed to the right once more, drawing his attention. He didn’t really know what to look for, but a distant shadow formed an arch so he assumed there was yet another tunnel.

‘It’s quite the elaborate set up,’ he realised, ‘Then again if I had centuries to live then crafting such a network of tunnels wouldn’t be that difficult.’

“Is that it?” He looked back to her, scratching his chin, “There’s a river that leads to a diamond dog society?”

Shaking her head, Lady Ivory smiled. “No, this river flows through every nation on this continent. It just starts a bit beyond where the dogs call home.” She brought up her claw, counting from her ‘thumb’ out. “We dragons call it-“

Her voice was lost to low growls, odd syllables and bursts of blue sparks.

“Gesundheit,” Sammy interjected, earning a scowl.

“I did not sneeze, that was the name in my tongue. It does not translate to Equestrian, or whatever language rolls off yours.” She folded her arms and pointed her snout to the air in hoity fashion. “The words of you short lived creatures fail to capture the beauty we can conjure, the light of the fires to our spoken language, the emotion behind every musical shift in our tone. Your language is limited, crippled…” she rolled her claw, looking for the right word. Apparently it was not hard to find.

“…Boring.”

“As a Brit, I’ll have you know we can get quite colourful and creative,” he replied with a playful scowl. Her intrigued, but mostly amused expression told Sammy of her doubts. He was about to give a few examples when realised he was still wasting time. Shaking his head, he his expression shifted to being more austere. “Sorry, we’re getting side tracked, could you tell me the name of the river and the other nations along it? Just give me the gist of a few of these.”

“Certainly,” she started with an inclining nod, “The River Aquillian passes through every nation, and to us dragons it is believed to be the trail of a powerful sea serpent that wished to prove its strength against the land long ago. Now, as for the other species…”

For the next half an hour, Sammy sat and listened. It was all he felt he could do for now. In fact, it was, and he didn’t mind if it kept that sense of comfort in being educated. He learnt that the mountain Lady Ivory had made home sat between the Dog lands behind the mountain, the zebras in the jungle, and the minotaurs who were further in the fields.

The minotaurs were complex society of nobles houses either dedicated to scholarly arts of physical prowess. Upon hearing that pride and respect played a major role in a person’s place in society, his thoughts left him worried for how they would treat an outsider. Either the studious ones would vivisect him or the warriors would beat, if not kill him. Then again, who’s to say they couldn’t be diplomatic? Their territory lay in the forest area he had seen the day before. She knew little about their magic, or even if they could possibly wield it.

Towards the jungle area one would expect to encounter zebras, though having strong tribal routes, have the best mystical medical care in the world. Natural remedies are sought after by other countries, and their economy had long since elevated them from the tribal huts Sammy had expected. Having only Zecora’s lifestyle to go on, which the show hardly focused on, did give Sammy a few presumptions he was beginning to become ashamed of. Especially after giving the diamond dogs a benefit of the doubt. When the mystical art of alchemy was brought up, he learnt that such a profession was their only means of magic. It was still an avenue he would pursue.

His spirits diminished when he learnt that Saddle Arabia not only lay in the scorching deserts, but at quite a distance away. Ivory had little to say about them, save what she gleamed at a sighting a few centuries ago. Old history that spoke of a merchant empire, bartering practically sounding like a hobby of sorts. Sammy wondered if that still resided in aspects of their modern culture, perhaps trading something of value would help him? Apparently not, as Saddle Arabians seemed more akin to earth ponies in terms of wielding magic for agriculture.

Still, he could attain safe passage to the gryphons of the distant mountains. He was told of cliff-face cities, and even of a bridge that actually connected two of the largest mountain cities. Of course he knew he was living in a fairy-tale, but he doubted most had ever imagined such a strange thing. The amount of resources suggested an incredibly wealthy nation, as well as an odd sense of ingenuity; why would an avian species wish to construct a bridge of such magnitude? He was warned of their harsh nature and their strong sense of honour. Should he attempt to seek aid from those in high places, he’d have to impress a few noble houses. Ivory knew little about what magic they could possibly wield, if any.

Throughout it all he would question, feed his curiosity, and feel the seed of hope sprout. He was feeling progress, sensing a direction that would take him home, but above all Sammy found comfort in topical discussion. It was a close resemblance of normality he realised after discussing the gryphons. It left him unsure of what to think, was he distracting himself or had he genuinely slipped back into comfort?

Again he felt rather uneasy about this. He didn’t get time to ponder as Ivory lowered her head to come eye level, her scrutinising gaze sending wary chills down his spine. He showed little sign of intimidation, returning a suspicious glance.

“Beyond the mountain kingdom, across the Great Sea sits another land,” she began, voice waxing into a knowing tone, “One you seemed familiar with.”

He was mute for the moment, only staring back and cocking his head to the left.

‘She knows I know, of Equestria anyway. If I blatantly deny that, she’ll only suspect.’ Knowing that she expected an answer, he flopped his head to the right and rubbed his neck. With discomfort gracing his features, he spoke with uncertainty.

“Equestria? It’s real here?” It was a question that would reinforce what he knew. He merely asked to collaborate the knowledge, a habit he picked up after achieving his the results after a practical experiment. It helped to see the scope of variation, and see I he achieve anomalous results. Alternatively he could refer to the teacher who knew what was correct, similar to what he was doing now.

“Yes, there is an entire sub-species of ponies who manipulate the magical arts far better than others,” Ivory responded, closing her eyes and bringing a claw to her chest, “Save for the dragons, of course.”

As tempting as it was to point out her most recent magical blunder, Sammy kept his mouth shut. He needed this information and speaking out would be counterproductive. No matter how satisfying.

“I’m sure that’s what you wanted to hear, was it not? Equestria, home to the only alicorn, she who raises both the sun and the moon?” Her cold, critical gaze returned, her pointed teeth becoming unsheathed by her knowing grin. “But you must already know something about Equestria, having recognised the currency. So tell me, stranger from another world, why is Equestria familiar to you?”

“It’s just a story to us,” Sammy responded, having contemplated an answer he saw fit as she spoke. He leant forward, support his head on his hands and resting his elbows on his knees. He idly glanced towards the coins beneath before looking back up to her.

“A sort of fairy tale. We’ve created the idea of magic to bring wonder and fear, I suppose. It was mostly a way of explaining the unexplainable, or to create fantasy. Our magicians are all smoke and mirrors, but the good ones don’t need a stage. I’m an avid fan of street magicians, they do miracles not magic. I know it’s not real, but I’m always convinced for a moment that magic is real with street magicians.” He took a deep breath before moving on.

“Equestria was this place of magic, a land of unicorns and pegasi. To us, it was place of harmony, friendship, and almost utopic land. Almost,” he added with a smirk. He recalled Discord, Chrysalis, the xenophobia Zecora faced, as well as how the simple emotion of envy corrupted a princess many would assume were a demi-god.

“Stories say it’s a great land, the rulers said to be fair, just and of great power. Between the ideals that define a great human being, the fact that we’ve heard stories of trouble times made it seem more realistic. A story that could become real. Heck, our older civilisations used to believe a god moved the moon and sun, a similar story I believe to what happens here. Such a thing wouldn’t be possible where I’m from, we know this now, but it was once believed to be at one point.”

“How so?” she asked, confused if not intrigued by the statement.

He was about to answer when his stomach announced a pressing matter. The gurgles silenced the conversation and brought an awkward chuckle from his lips.

“Pardon me, heh.”

She waved him off, seeming to understand.

“There is no need for apologies, I’ll see what I can fetch for your consumption, is you diet really so broad as to being able to consume all manner of meets or are there some that are best avoided?” she asked, starting to move towards the far right. She stopped to look over her shoulder. He muttered to himself about the possible dangers of consuming foreign meats. He could have an allergic reaction or be completely unable to process his meal.

“I’m waiting~” she sung, the melodious tone gaining an answer.

“Just make sure it’s cooked! We’re not good at eating most meats raw, or if there are some meats we can eat raw, I don’t know them. I didn’t watch enough Bear Grylls!” This seemed to take her by surprise given how she blinked and tilted her head.

“A meat eater that can’t properly eat meat? How strange,” she stated, watching him try to come up with a response. Left like a gasping fish, Sammy could only blame his ignorance on the subject.

“I’m sure there’s a lot of things we can eat raw, I mean, we can’t have really lost that ability, right?” he muttered to himself, scratching his scalp. With no answer he puffed a resigned breath and watched her wade through her hoard with ease.

“If cooked meat is fine, then I’ll see what I can find in my preservation chamber. I know it’s a bit early, but would you mind some manticore?”