A Different Sort of Pony

Ever since her birth, Carou had been different from other ponies. She trained so easily, obeying commands without hesitation. By age 3, Carou was already the pride of the Horsehill Ranch. Her owners gave her the finest food available, her riders were always gentle, and her well-cared-for tack included no bit.

And yet, she was not truly happy with her life. Somehow, she knew, there could be something more for her in the world, if she could only understand what. These thoughts disturbed Carou. She knew that the other ponies who shared the barn with her had no such thoughts. Most of them seemed to hardly have thoughts at all. Her owners had always encouraged her creativity, praising her when she invented a new trick on her own.

Perhaps this was why she was smarter than the other ponies, or maybe it was the mystery of her origin. From conversations between humans, she had learned that while her dam had been a pony from a nearby farm, her father... Nopony knew who her father had been.

It was interesting, how the humans treated her. She was clever, and observant, and smart, certainly compared to the other ponies. Enough so that when she heard her owner's young son cry out in pain, she ran towards him, instead of away.

The rancher's son was only a foal himself. He was at that stage of life in which confidence grew beyond ability, and that meant trouble. So when she heard the scream that afternoon, she knew it for what it was: trouble.

The trouble came in the form of an old snag. The young human had been cutting the snag for firewood, judging by the nearby wood axe and pile of freshly cut wood, when the snag had fallen on him. Nearby hoofprints showed that his own horse had already fled. Like most of the other horses here, the young human's was unreliable at best.

Carou approached the trapped human, bending down to look carefully at him. The snag lay on top of his legs, and his face bore an expression of terrible pain. Fortunately, his legs had not become entangled in the mess of dead wood. After bending down close to reassure him, Carou turned to face away from the snag and bucked it as had as she could. Bits of broken wood flew everythere, and the snag flipped over, well off of the human's legs.

Looking back, Carou saw him start to try to rise, flinch severely, then collapse again. It looked like at least one of his legs were broken. She thought quickly, then nudged his arm with her nose to get his attention. The boy looked up at her, and she lay down beside him. Realizing, though clearly not entirely believing, her unspoken command, he dragged himself on his stomach until he at least lay across her back, then stopped moving. As Carou couldn't see him, she guessed he had lost consciousness. She didn't know how much blood humans had, but there seemed to be more than a little spilled into the dirt. There could be no waiting for him to wake.

Very carefully, Carou rose, the limp body lying across her back, and began a slow, even walk back to the barn.

She reached the barn aroun nightfall, then thought for a moment. This human foal was no pony, and would need humans to help him. And so she passed by her barn, albeit with a look of longing, and went onwards, towards the humans' building. A light was on inside, but nopony was outside, so Carou steeled her nerves, raised a hoof, and pounded on the door.

There was no response, and so she pounded again. There was yelling inside, then the door opened to reveal the rancher himself, angry.

Never before had Carou felt that anger directed at her. It was an unpleasant feeling, to say the least. But the moment quickly passed, when the human saw the load she bore, draped over her back.

The human quickly led her inside the building—inside the building!—and over to what Carou realized must be a bed. Slowly, she knelt down, and the father lifted his son from her back. He placed him gently on the bed, and Carou was relieved. He would be safe now, was her last thought, as darkness slipped around her.