I was clearly laying in bed with my eyes closed. The sun had risen a few hours ago and a bright beam of vampire destruction blasted through a gap in the curtains which was currently trying to vanquish my retinas. They had stubbornly refused to turn to dust as I kept my eyes shut and turned my head in some vain attempt at more sleep.

That weird sixth-sense kicked in. You know the one. That tingling feeling you get when someone is watching you. I felt it but I didn't care. They can watch me sleep. The one ogling me while I had dozed must have been really close as I could feel their breath wash over my face. I turned my head to the other side.

The feeling was still there of course. I knew who it was but It didn't matter. It's not like I had anything pressing to do today, no one important to see, or anywhere else to be. The air outside was cold while my bed was pleasantly warm. I didn't feel like getting up. A coma would be nice right about now. The inky darkness, the null void of a trauma induced slumber.

I let out a weak sigh and fluttered my eyes open. In front of me were lazy magenta eyes attached to a green, scaly creature staring back at me from the wooden floor which had confirmed my suspicions. Yesterday happened, much to my dismay, and today was going to happen, much to my dread. I turned my head back to the other side only to be met with a set of amazingly happy baby-blue eyes attached to a creature that was covered in far too much pink, surrounded by a halo provided by a photon death-ray of sun light.

I laid there, mostly unmoving, save for the rhythmic expansion and contraction of my chest and the lub-dub pulse of my heart. Somehow she had approached without making a sound. She sat at the other side of the bed with a goofy little grin on her face which held a few splotches of what I hoped was baking flour. With the way she acted sometimes, one could easily assume she was a ninja and the simple baking ingredient might act like some sort of sound dampening substance.

If she was some sort of baking ninja, my pleasantly cozy bedding would do nothing to defend me from her or anything else in this place. Reality was entirely subjective around here. As for physics, I think it took a vacation and never came back. I wasn't even going to try. Yesterday was the start of my third week living here and she could still surprise me.

Since coming here I'd seen some impossible hijinks, and right this moment I was staring at the cause of most of it. I don't think hijinks is a strong enough word for the antics I've endured, but stronger language would get me nowhere. Besides, I don't think it would be fair to vent my frustrations on the local populace while they continue to suffer a similar fate for much longer than I have.

I rolled my eyes. Her grin broke into an overly wide smile as I did so. I frowned. She snickered. I frowned harder. She softly giggled. I couldn't frown any harder else risking my face becoming stuck that way. Given all the crazy things I've seen lately, I couldn't entirely rule out that possibility.

Fine, I guess I'll get up...

I rolled myself off of my bed, slogged past her, exited our shared room, down the hall, and plodded my way into the bathroom. The clip-clopping of hooves in my wake informed that she had followed me to the bathroom. I stepped inside but she had sat just outside, her amazingly blue eyes peeking from under her wild poofy mane from around the frame of the door.

My left hand flopped uselessly against the left wall looking for the light switch. Again I had to remind myself that things were different here. Two more steps into the room the lights snapped on by themselves. I shielded my eyes at the convenience that was both a blessing and a curse.

Having an audience of one to this mornings ablutions wasn't all that strange, her being my shadow wasn't unusual either. Although it could have been worse, given what had happened this past weekend. I could have wound up in the local hospital, if they even had one, or dead. A little bit of voyeurism was a small price to pay given my current condition. I still wouldn't be against being a coma, but I had no choice in the matter.

As much as I may worry her, she worried me even more. She didn't have to watch me. We had been together for a week now and I had become familiar with her schedule as she was with mine. I could tell she cared deeply about me. I was just happy to not be dead, or undead. Anything further than that was a blessing. I had seen what happened to unruly pets and that was a path I was hell bent to avoid.

She snorted, snapping me out of my thoughts. Right, I still had things that were expected of me. That's how it things are going to be today, I suppose. Me being lost in thought, her being condescending.

I waved my hand around in the shallow porcelain sink which activated the hidden water faucet, cupped some lukewarm water and haphazardly splashed it on my face. A glance at my reflection in the mirror drew my eyes to the pink collar around my neck. The collar she gave me.

It was the same shade of pink as her coat. The front, just under my neck, was embossed and colored mirroring the mark on my tunic and her hind quarters. It didn't have a tag like a dog collar from back home, or even a place to attach one. There was a small notch around the back where a leash could be clipped, though the Pink One had never needed to use one.

I grabbed a towel from the rack and wiped down my face and neck paying special attention to the skin under the collar. My collar. It was still a foreign thought, being little more than someone's property. It was for my own protection, I had discerned that much. At one point I had experimented on it. A little jiggery-pokery with a sliver of metal and the nearly seamless clasp would easily release, but adventuring without it on would be more dangerous than brave.

Continuing with the damp towel, I carefully ran it across my chest, avoiding the now seeping bandages. Hopefully they would be changed later tonight after the Pink One's shift in the bakery was over. I then quickly toweled down both arms and legs. Their wounds not being as deep had mostly stabbed over by now. There were too many bandages on my back so cleaning there would have to wait until later.

I tossed the now funky towel into the basket beside the door and left, heading back the the bedroom, the lights snapping off by themselves. She followed closely on my heels, humming a strange tune. A different tune than yesterday, I noted.

Back in the bedroom, beside my bed, my change of clothes waited for me. I now had two sets, my latest addition being from one of her friends. If I remember correctly, the White One with the curly purple hair and horn gave them to me. If it had been from the White One with the yellow hair and wings I would have been worried for not only my safety but those who happened to be unlucky enough to be within a one block radius.

The garment was a simple beige knee-high tunic adorned with a set of three balloons, two blue and one yellow, that would rest over either side of my hips when worn. My previous one probable still lay in a tattered heap outside where I had left it. I didn't have the heart to throw it away. Maybe the White One with the horn could patch them up for me. Sewing was her thing, after all.

I slipped on my tunic and carefully smoothed down any wrinkles. I had to make myself presentable as I was going to be next to the center of attention shortly. The Pink One and I had silently agreed upon it. It was what it had to do to earn my keep. Not so much a job, as I wasn't being paid, but a requirement. This is what I had been dreading.

Tidied up and dressed, I was as ready as I would ever be. I turned to my owner. Still humming to herself, she gave a single sharp knod and proceeded out of the room and started down the creaky wooden stair case to the bakery on the main floor. Not given much choice on the matter I followed.

Today was the start of the week so I already knew where I was to be. Monday was always the busiest. My place was on the overly large pillow that sat at the edge of the counter near the cash register. I was to play the part of watchdog, making sure no one with sticky fingers, claws, or hooves tried to make off with money while the employees were busy boxing goods and serving orders to the tables.

I took my place and scanned beyond the shop window into the frosty autumn morning to the line out front. Today looked like it was going to be especially busy. The locals had come out in droves and had formed a neat single file line that must have wound around the block. Seeing as they had much longer bodies it wasn't much of a stretch, if you pardon the pun.

My owner trotted up from behind me, from beyond the swinging double-doors that lead from the kitchen, with a sterling bowl clutched in her teeth and another just like it carefully balanced on her back. She skillfully placed the silvery metallic dishes off to my left, closest to the wall away from hoof traffic. My ever watchful eyes shifted from the store front to the pair of bowls. One was filled with crystal clear drinking water, as usual, while its twin appeared to be brimming with diced fruit, some granola clusters topped with a mix of berries, and possibly the largest crescent I've ever seen balanced on top. My stomache protested its emptiness just as my brakefast had been served.

The Pink One continued to the front door of the shop and, with adeptness I've seen nowhere else, swished her pink mane at the stylish sign in the window, flipping it over. With a small bounce she turned and whipped her tail at the door which tumbled the lock. She trotted back past me, humming a more upbeat tune than before, and sat behind the counter at the cash machine. Just as easy as that, the bakery was officially open for the day.

Still sitting on my pillow, I hurriedly plucked my food bowl with my left hand and set it in front of me. I watched the first few customers start to trickle in as I began my morning meal. It had been less than an hour since I woke up but based on past experience I could already tell that today would be a very long day.

I attacked the crescent first, viciously tearing at its flakey, buttery goodness with gnashing teeth and wreckless abandon. I earned a few distasteful looks from some of the customers in my brutish display but I had a carefully constructed image of mystery and danger to maintain so I paid them no mind. The small cluster of, what were probably rolled oat bites, were next. I gentily rolled the berries off the top of the pile and picked one up. These golden, rolled oat, bite-sized clusters looked no different than something that I could have made back home if I had any cooking skills. I popped it in my mouth and carefully crunched down. They were heavenly. While I ate, my eyes slowly roamed across the room.

The patrons were these brightly colored, fur covered, shaggy maned, tiny horse-things that went about the shop as part of their daily business. The closest thing they resembled from back home was a pony, but only in shape, and only by a slim margin. Their unnatural hoof dexterity, vividly colored coats, and intelligence made them out to be a different creature entirely. It was like evolution had decided that standing on two legs was too much of a hassle, then threw its hands up in defeat and doled intellect creatures seemingly at random. I swear I once saw a bird, a cat, and a dog collaborating on drawing a map in a patch of dirt like it was the most natural thing in the world. Ths place, man, just hurts my head sometimes.

One by one customers hoofed themselves up to the counter. Each had made their orders for brakefast or whatever in their crazy toung-click speak before clinking a few golden coins down and trotting off to wait for their order to be filled at a booth or table. Usually they grouped together in sets of two or more, animatedly chatting about what they had planned for later that day or similar such nonsense. As they and I don't speak the same language, I could only speculate on their conversational topics.

Their speech was as creepy as it was adorable. Low, gutterial rumbles, and some nose snorts mixed with toung-clicks and lop-pops, mostly. There were some other familiar speech sounds but they were few and far between. Not too long ago I had tried to imitate some of the sounds they made but it seems the human larynx wasn't designed to speak their language. On hind sight, I think I may have called one of them a bad name. Since then I haven't made another attempt at their language, at least not publicy. Humming, I had learned, was an exception. Maybe musc truly was a universal language.

Business in the bakery was brisk, but I paid little mind to the brightly colored creatures unless they neared the either the counter or myself. I idily picked away at my brakefast while the locals did their thing and before I knew it all my clusters were all gone. I dumped what remained of the mixture of berries into my left hand then slid the now empty metal dish across the floor to clang noisily against the wall beside its waterlogged twin.

This morning dragged on much the same as the pervious mornings in the bakery had, which would finally gave way to afternoon where things normally calmed down for a couple of hours, before picking up again just before closing time. It was a calming thought. For the better part of the day the shop would be nearly empty, with just a dusting of customers peppered throughout. Next Chapter: Chapter 5: CMC Estimated time remaining: 18 Minutes