Jewel of the Everfree
Chapter 5: Learning Curve
Previous Chapter Next ChapterIt'd been several minutes since Atchmon left to collect his food for the week, and Rarity was already starting to feel worried that something had happened to him. There wasn't much she could do to help even if she wanted to. She was no survivor, had no experience being in the wilderness, and certainly couldn't harm a creature to the extent Atchmon could. Sure, Rarity could hold her own against a half-dozen Changelings, and wasn't afraid to go hoof to claw against a Dragon when her poor Spikey-wikey was in trouble. But to actually do what Atchmon does to ensure your own survival... It was the natural order of things.
Kill to eat, or to keep from being eaten.
"Don't worry yourself so much Rarity, Atchmon has proven himself capable of handling any trouble he may encounter. Best thing to do is to stay put until he gets back. Though... I'm not sure I want to stay here in this musty old cave. Still... he could prove useful to me, he could help me get back home!" Rarity finished excitedly.
The Griffins and other races throughout Equestria are known to partake in the flesh of other creatures. Usually critters like rabbits, squirrels, chickens, and mice; but have been known to slaughter pigs for their meat. Though Pigs are part of a very rare group of hoofed creatures that lack any sapience. The other larger races - like the Dragons - won't hesitate to turn any race into a quick meal. No matter how much they beg for their lives.
Ponies, on the other hoof, have a kinship with most of the creatures in the world. They raise pigs for finding truffles and the fertilizer they produce, and have business contracts with the Cows for their milk. Diplomatic ties with the Griffins have always been strained, especially with the Pegasi competing for territory in the sky. Luckily the Griffins prefer more mountainous terrain over building cloud-cities. The point being, the Pony race have actually known the Griffins for centuries, and have some semblance of peace between their races.
"But he's a predator; worse than the Griffins," she dismayed. "A Pegaboar, a whole Pegaboar can feed him for a week! I don't think I can take anymore death..."
This new creature was a complete unknown. His resemblance to the peaceful Minotaurs was the only anchor keeping Rarity from leaving. However, her current resting place inside the cave was a painful reminder of her experience being enslaved by the Diamond Dogs, and forced to hard labor while finding riches for the smelly beasts.
"Right now he thinks I'm a Princess, so he must be completely ignorant to the rest of the world. Maybe he isn't as smart as I first thought. Perhaps I can trick him, and make him think I'm valuable enough to keep alive. I could use him to get back home, or as protection until I'm rescued," she finished excitedly, looking up towards the ceiling. "Surely he knows how to navigate the Everfree Forest, he's been here all that time." A plan was forming in her mind, to use him as a means to survive.
Atchmon jogged through the forest with his bow in hand; dodging trees and bounding over any obstacle that blocked his path. He moved unhindered through the dense undergrowth, another staple to his experience in the wilds, while ignoring the tiny bumps and scrapes left behind by the small tree limbs he'd plow through. His mind fought to focus on his surroundings, knowing at any moment he could be ambushed. Fear and excitement wrestled together within his chest, not of the bounty which lay ahead of him, nor of the countless animals that could kill him, but of the person waiting for him back home.
"Un-freakin' real! A unicorn; and it talks!" he panted with a huge smile on his face, then slowed as he neared his destination.
Atchmon made it to the area with the boar, which lay only a dozen yards away in the open area, lying next to the tree that halted its crash. Grateful to see it was left untouched. He notched an arrow, keeping himself bent low as he neared his quarry. Stopping every few moments to check and see if the coast was clear, while looking around for any sign of movement, waiting, and listening for anything to jump out at him.
He finally reached the boar's body, crouching next to it, waiting another minute before relaxing. Then leaning his bow against the tree, leaving the arrow ready within, setting it all in such a way he could easily grab it and fire should any problem arise.
It was a huge risk to leave the boar behind, not only could he have lost it, but there could have been something worse waiting for him when he returned. Not to mention meat spoils significantly faster in hot weather. It was a judgment call, he needed to make sure the unicorn was safe. It would have only slowed him down with her injury, as she proved when she couldn't keep up with him when they walked back. The boar's location wasn't as far as he imagined, feeling confident he could bring it back with time to spare.
Not wanting to waste any more time Atchmon unsheathed his knife, getting to work processing the boar. All while dozens of questions raced through his mind.
"Rarity." You sure are. He thought while a toothy smile spread across his face after speaking her name.
Minutes passed while Rarity snacked on the food in her saddlebags. 'I'd kill for some Vanilla Oat Swirl ice cream right about now...' She thought, before widening her eyes for a moment then putting on a look of dismay. 'Oh goddesses, why did I just think that after everything!?' she immediately lost her appetite after that.
Atchmon said he used all of his own medical supplies on me. So, what if this is all of his food too? What if he can't find anything to eat after the boar is gone? What if he gets hungry enough to forget about keeping me safe; or I do something to offend him!? He seemed so cross with me when I insisted on helping him. What kind of- 'being' gets angry when you offer aid to it? Then again, he was hurt, and an injured beast is usually more violent. I really shouldn't trust it. I mean, I barely even know him! Rarity continued to look for any excuse not to stay with the stranger, but instead of finding one big reason, she came up with dozens of smaller petty ones.
Rarity got up with every intention of leaving, thinking she might actually stand a chance with the spear he'd given her, and the food in her bags. But the pleading look in Atchmon's eyes when he begged her not to leave entered her mind. She thought his words over again, and looked to the tally marks on the ceiling. And Wondered if he had been like that all along, or if it was just a result of prolonged isolation. Rarity couldn't comprehend spending that much time alone.
"He's lived here for years it seems, that could make him violent too, dangerous as he's proven to be. But he could just be a lonely soul genuinely wanting nothing more than somepony to talk to. He's shown to be protective, somewhat intelligent, and is generous enough to share his home, his food, and his bed with you... Oh, Celestia, that didn't sound right! Still, I hope he returns soon. I have a few questions I'd like to ask him. He said he wanted to talk, so perhaps it's best to hear him out first, before I make a final decision."
Ponies have an innate need to be around each other. They were herd animals, after all. The herding instinct compelled them to be social, to make friends, to seek safety in numbers, and any deviation from that rule was considered taboo. A pony without any friends, or a proper social upbringing would be considered defective, or deformed, and are tragically avoided by others. Rarity was fighting her common sense over the false social stigma, knowing that stepping hoof outside the sanctity of the cave put her at higher risk of encountering danger.
It's been a full day and a half since Rarity has seen, or heard from any of her own friends. She lay there wondering what they were doing right now, but knew they were doing everything they could to find her. Her parents were currently in Zebraca, visiting the city of Roam. There was little chance of them hearing about what happened to her, before they come back home to get Sweetie Bell. Rarity held the spear closer to her chest as she thought of her little sister.
Sweetie Bell. I wish I could hug you and tell you how sorry I am for being away from you. For not being there when you need me. Our argument seems so petty now, how could I tell you to look after yourself when I can't do the same for myself in a place like this.
Ponies also need as much physical contact as they do social interaction. They need to touch and be touched by others, there's rarely a time in a pony's life when they aren't in contact with somepony they care about. Whether it's to say hello, or leaning against each other during brunch with friends. Physicality was an integral part of a pony's life.
Rarity never knew it at the time, but she was going through depression due to her own isolation, searching for anything to fill the void that is usually filled by others. Now hugging the spear Atchmon had given her, still too repulsed by the pelts which lay only a few hoof steps from her. Briefly thinking about levitating a few over, just so she can use them as a faux body pillow. Yet she couldn't bring herself to touch such a thing again, even though she really wanted to. Remembering how silky-soft the fur felt.
Her mind dwelled a bit more on what she was missing back home, until she shook the depressive thoughts from her head. Rarity's eyes wandered around the walls of the bean-shaped cave, in an effort to distract herself. Atchmon had carved out holes in a few places around the walls which acted as shelving, like the one that held the dragon skull. The other shelves held various gems, bones, claws, and other treasures collected over the years. A small table near the bed held gourds, like the one used to treat his wound, along with her 'emergency' sewing kit Atchmon had placed before leaving.
Rarity felt the pang of loneliness creep into her heart at the sight of the kit, tearing her eyes away from it, looking for something else to distract herself with.
She looked upon Atchmon's paintings with newfound appreciation, finding Great Eagles, and a stick figure that must have been Atchmon catching dozens of fish over a fire with what looked like snowflakes over all of it. It must have meant that he caught and cooked many fish to survive the harsh Everfree winters. There was a faint white outline of a horse drawn within all the snow. No, not a horse. A Windigo! If he had seen such a thing, then the Hearth's Warming tale wasn't just a myth.
Her mind automatically put together one story after another as her eyes wandered around the walls, many depicted Atchmon felling various beasts with his arrows, and others where he trapped larger game by chasing them into a trap. Another showed him running away from Discord's Plunderseed vines. One disturbing claim of prowess depicted him chasing an owl-beast off the ledge of a cliff, where it fell to the bottom meeting its demise.
Rarity tried not to condemn him because of this, her own people weren't any better at one time. It wasn't like the Pegasi didn't flaunt their victories in times of war. Though history books nowadays took a more 'PG' approach on the subject. That was after her time as a school-filly, she still remembered the images of Earth ponies favorite 'drawn and quartered' style of execution during the 'Dark Times'. Of course her own tribe, the unicorns, would put themselves in the best light by burning any books that mentioned what they did. No right-minded unicorn speaks about how many hundreds of thousands of ponies, both Earth and Pegasi, were sacrificed to further study the dark arts. That was a long time ago, a thousand years of peace have softened her race, though they kept much of their fighting spirit through competition. However, the thought of ponies killing was abhorrent in her mind.
Rarity shook those thoughts and continued to eye his stories, wondering at what point he carved the depressive message over the hearth. She eventually happened upon the mural that showed when Atchmon claimed his home, and 'evicted' the occupant at the time.
His figure was waiting in a tree, while firing arrows down at a bear between him and a drawing of the cave. The beast climbed up the tree knocking Atchmon from his perch. He then ran with the bear chasing him, his arms waving in fear above his head. Rarity chuckled despite everything, then feeling disappointed in herself, forgetting for a moment how awful this actually was. The next image showed Atchmon kneeling down with the bear rearing above him, its long sharp claws ready to tear him to shreds. Atchmon lifted a long spear just before the beast bore down on him. Using the animal's own weight against it as the spear drove through its chest and out its back. Atchmon then stood by the bear's corpse, his spear held high in victory.
So that's what it was. Fluttershy would not approve. Rarity thought as she glanced at the bed of fur. Knowing that Barry the bear was one of Fluttershy's favorite animal friends. She rescued him when he was just a cub, his mother had died defending him from other more dangerous beasts.
"Bears aren't exactly gentle giants, they'll attack a pony just as indiscriminately as any other creature, but with a little kindness and a lot of food, you can earn their trust. Do that, and they'll be your best friend for life!" Rarity gave a sad smile at the memory of her animal-loving friend. She wondered how Atchmon could possibly have a kind bone in his body with the way he can kill without any hesitation.
Rarity looked around to the head of the bed, where there hung a strange looking charm. It looked like a spider's web with beads caught within. The 'web' was tied to a circle made of sticks, held together with strips of brown leather wrapped around them. With more strips hanging below decorated with light-brown fur, feathers, and more beads.
It looked ominous despite the colorful beads and feathers.
"I suppose it looks nice, if you like creepy." Rarity muttered, deciding not to dwell on it for too long. Later realizing what she just said. Remembering it was the same thing she said about Zecora's home, her Zebra friend who lived in the Everfree forest everyday.
'Have I really not changed since then? Am I really so xenophobic? No! This is different, he's not anything like a minotaur, much less a pony or zebra.'
It was a short while later when Atchmon finally returned carrying the boar on his back, its hooves tied to a long wooden branch. Atchmon grasped the wooden bar, leaving most of the weight resting on the shelf of his back shoulders. Carrying it much in the same way one would carry a couple pales of water on a sort of makeshift yoke.
Rarity heard him outside and went to welcome him back, only to freeze at the gory activity that was taking place before her. Rarity was used to her cat, Opalescence, bringing her a mouse or two as a present, but have never actually witnessed a slaughter before. She was stunned, too horrified by what she witnessed, and could only stand there imagining the bloody flesh as her own.
The animal had been cut open, it's entrails and head were removed; leaving much of Atchmon's backside soaked in crimson. He set down his bow before getting to work processing the meat. FIrst by moving the three tanning racks away from around the fire pit, then bringing over a different rack with multiple horizontal rows for hanging the meat. He then placed the new rack over the sizeable fire pit, the stands on the rack kept it well above the hot embers.
Atchmon moved back to the animal's corpse, then took out his blade, and cut into the boar. First removing its hide, and tossing it to the side. Then butchering the limbs, while removing much of the fat as well. He pulled the feathers off the boar's tiny wings, and tried to keep the ebony colored down in a neat little pile for some purpose later on. Every bit of meat on the boar was washed, removing any remaining blood and any debris that may have collected during the butchering.
Atchmon kept his water in large clay pots that were buried into the side of the hill, leaving only their covered tops above the ground. Keeping the water cool from the sun, while keeping everything else out. It sat behind the fire so he could boil any water, and quickly fill his supply without having to carry it far. Atchmon cut the meat into smaller slices that could be hung on the racks over the pit, but first they needed to be seasoned.
Rarity hadn't notice Atchmon looking at her, wondering what she must think of him. As he looked back down at what he was doing, cutting off another slab of meat. Knowing it wasn't anything good, it was necessary. They were two strangers from two different worlds, in every conceivable sense. They would need to get used to each other, he could handle it. His inquisitive mind had a million questions running through it, but for now survival was taking priority over discovery. Learn, adapt, survive, that has been the way of things, but now he has to do something he hasn't done in a very long time. He has to communicate with another person. He cleared his throat.
"Mmhmm, Rarity?" He called to her. She jumped and snapped her head to attention at the sudden sound of his voice. With mouth slightly agape, eyes wide, and ears perked in his direction, never realizing how fast she was breathing. Her barrel visibly expanding from his perspective. She's scared of me, she's got every reason to be.
"Could'ja do me a big favor and, uh, bring me the small wooden box that's sitting across the door, and the big bowl that's in there too, please?" He asked, pointing his knife in her direction, before turning his attention to the carcass again.
"What!? Oh! Oh, yes of course." Rarity almost didn't hear what he said. Too uncomfortable with the fact that a carnivore was feeding mere yards from her. At least he didn't seem interested in making her into a meal.
She found the package directly underneath the shelf holding the dragon's skull, and grimaced at it; wondering what vile thing resided inside the container. Rarity stayed near the entrance opting to float the box next to Atchmon, feeling too unsafe being around him. Then later doing the same with the bowl she drank out of not an hour ago.
"Thanks." Atchmon said passively, as he threw slices of clean meat into the bowl. Then dashing on the herbs and spices from the box, and used his hands to mix it all around, until every piece of meat was seasoned evenly and hanging on the wooden rack.
Atchmon got up and disappeared around the hill, later coming back with an armful of firewood, and arranged them inside the circular stone pit. He stoked a fire so that it had a nice low flame, which produced lots of smoke. Next, he brought the tanning racks back, and made a shanty pyramid to contain the smoke, and further treat the pelts.
"That should do it. Whew! Sorry I took so long getting back. Damn thing weighs a ton, haha! Still made for a darn good haul though. Huff! I had to gut and drain it right there and- Oh! God! Stupid. I'm sorry, uh, Rarity?" Atchmon tried to apologize after realizing he was making his company uncomfortable, only to catch on quickly to the subtle heaving motions of a pony about to hurl.
Rarity was made sick after witnessing the dual purpose her drinking bowl served, and hearing about the meat harvesting process along with the fresh smell of copper which emanated from him was pushing her queasiness over the edge.
"It's- hurk! Okay... Oh, goddesses." Rarity whispered and tried to calm her upset tummy, while taking heavy breaths to try and keep herself from vomiting again.
"Do you wanna come outside for some fresh air? The wind has blown most of the smell away," he offered in concern.
"I don't--blurp--know..." Rarity didn't want go where she knew the smell was worse. Her mouth salivated excessively, and what normally followed was sure to be unavoidable.
"Hey! If you're gonna hurl, do it outside. I don't care if you are a Princess, I'm not cleanin' another mess." Atchmon chastised, and pointed his chubby digit in the direction he wanted her to go.
That was motivation enough for her to jump up and scamper out the door. Atchmon watched her hobble by him, and soon she was dry heaving near the tree line.
"Hey!? You okay over there?" He asked, while staying kneeled near the fire pit.
"Yes... --cough-- I'm fine!" Huff! Rarity was laid out on her belly; taking in deep heavy breaths of clean air, before laying on her side and did her best to settle her upset tummy.
"Shit! Shut yer eyes, Princess; don't look at it!" Atchmon yelled at her, with panic in his voice.
"What? What are you talking abou-." Rarity tried to protest but was stopped by a pair of red eyes that seemed to go on into eternity. Rarity felt a numbness crawling up her hooves, and it hurt. Oh, goddesses it hurt. Yet she could not scream or move. She could only look at those eyes into forever, before an arrow pinned the vile beast to the ground, breaking the contact. Atchmon slid feet first next to the flailing creature, before pulling its head away from Rarity.
"Hissgrraaack-" POP! The hissing-squawk of the cockatrice was cut off by the snapping of its neck. Its wings beating and talons flailing to get away from its murderer, before finally relaxing into its death. But not without leaving Atchmon with some fresh scratches, which bled slightly.
"Shit! Hang on, whatever you do, don't move!" He instructed her while she lay on her side. Rarity's mind struggled to catch up to what was going on, feeling as though somepony had jammed their horn into both of her eyes.
Funny, I can't really feel my legs anyhow, and yet. Why do they feel so... heavy? Rarity lifted her head, her long neck arching enough to view the result of the beast's power. Her legs had been turned to stone. The milky white marble came up just passed her knees, before giving way to her flesh. 'Oh, Celestia, no!'
"Can you eat this?" He asked, grasping some of the meadow grass nearby. "Can, you, eat, this?" he asked a little more slowly, while trying to get her to look at what he was holding.
"Y-yes." She answered feeling more upset, and panicked the longer she laid there. The realization of what happened beginning to hit her.
Atchmon had returned with an apothecary bowl, taking a handful of meadow grass and grinding something together within. Then turning away from her, taking the dead cockatrice with him and pulling out his knife. All she could do was lay there listening to the grinding and small tapping noises as Atchmon crafted the 'medicine'.
"Here eat this, it'll be okay." he said hurriedly, holding up a ball of grass, which smelled of rosemary and copper.
"Why did you kill it!" she cried.
"I had to before it was too late! Just- here- this will help." He pleaded, taking the wad of bloody grass and holding up to her mouth.
The smell was vile as she turned away. "No, don't you understand!? Only cockatrice magic can undo the damage; you've doomed me!" she wailed.
"What? No! No- I- I know this looks bad, but I know what I'm doing. Trust me, this will work." Atchmon calmly tried to reason with her, and tried again to get her to take the remedy; only for her to pull away. "I know it's nasty, but it's either this, or you lose your legs!" he pleaded with her, and pushed the wad to her mouth; regardless of her protests.
Rarity shook her head more furiously to avoid touching the clump Atchmon held up to her lips. Tears formed around her eyes, knowing what was going to happen next. Eventually her legs would break off, and she'd live a life as a cripple. She's heard of it happening before, it wasn't an uncommon occurrence for a pony to cross paths with a cockatrice. Usually to be mildly damaged by its gaze, before it's scared off.
Ponies who possess a strong enough will can counteract the petrification magic, and even reverse it entirely. Rarity unfortunately, despite being quite a strong-willed mare, was caught off-guard by the animalistic gorgon.
Atchmon had lost his patience with the stubborn mare, cupping his hand over her snout, and forcing her mouth open, before shoving the clod into her muzzle. Then forcing her to swallow by pouring water from his canteen down her throat.
"Ack! Gag! Hurk! Cough! Uhgh!" Rarity almost immediately expelled the 'medicine', before feeling a tingling sensation in her extremities. She watched as her legs returned to normal, the marble flaked away like dried mud. Leaving her legs feeling stiff, yet unblemished. She laid there letting the magic do its work, feeling as though her legs had fallen asleep.
The prickly pins and needles sensation ebbed as she stood once again, grateful her hooves were back to normal.
"There, you see? All better now... How are you feeling, you okay?" Atchmon asked in concern, as he rubbed and patted her back, scratching where her mane met her neck. Offering her another drink of water, which she refused. Rarity could see the corpse of the dead beast; its eyes were missing.
Realizing what she was forced to consume, and repulsed by all the nastiness she had endured in the last forty-eight hours, Rarity had finally had enough. She delivered the complaint of all complaints, and raised her voice with every word she spoke.
Cough-Spit. "How dare you. HOW DARE YOU! I have--hurk--been away from home, wandering the Everfree forest for hours, with a sprain in my leg! Which is going to take weeks to heal, because I've had Wolves chasing me! Then covered head to hoof in every conceivable form of filth known in Equestria! Exposed to the most repugnant smell one could ever encounter! Which makes me wonder how badly I must stink, since I haven't had a hot bath in two days! My friends and family are worried sick about me, and they will probably never find me! Then forced to eat a- UHGH!" She turned away and nearly vomited again.
"Huff! Huff! Spit. Now I have some brutish-murdering-alien-monkey-creature asking me if I'm okay!? Well, the answer is no, I'M NOT OKAY!" Rarity yelled up at Atchmon's face, then pointed an accusatory hoof at him.
"You said nothing came into the meado- blurp!" Her stomach lurched, though nothing came out. She was beginning to feel a little sick.
"I also said this place is unpredictable! I'm sorry, but it was either that or-" He retorted, holding up his hands to calm the irate mare, before the angry pony pushed him away.
"Oh, what do you care? You just love it out here, don't you? So you can maim, and kill to your heart's content, just like the beast that you are! You- you- YOU MONSTER! If that's how you treat ponies, then maybe you deserve to be alone." Rarity finished with a huff and turned away from him, then dropped to her flanks while angrily splaying her ears back and crossing her hooves with a final harrumph.
Atchmon was silent for a moment after her tirade, before moving around and squatting to her eye level.
Rarity avoided his eye contact as she pouted. He spoke to her in a level voice, never taking his eyes off her own.
"Let me tell you somethin', and you better listen good. I was where you are right now. Scared, and cryin' about what I wanted, the people I missed, and wantin' nothin' more than to go home." Rarity looked at him angrily with her cerulean eyes. Her hooves still crossed, and ears splayed back.
"Crying isn't going to change anythin', or make anything better, and it sure as hell ain't goin' to get you home." Rarity dropped her forehooves to the ground, looking away after hearing that. Atchmon spoke through his teeth, barely concealing the hurt and anger he felt as he delivered his own rant, years in the making.
"You think I love being out here? Maybe I did at one point, but now I've had enough of this fucking place! I had a- I had- I had people who loved me. The life I had before is gone, I've got nothin' to go back to..." He Trailed off, before his ire was strangely directed in on himself.
"Because I just had to check out that damn portal. I just had to go through it, and I just had to stay in a 'brand new world' for a few days!" He exclaimed to the forest, extending his arms and waving them around at his surroundings. "I just had to be the first man here! The first one to explore it! Only to be trapped here, fighting every day to stay alive! So that one day, maybe, I can go back home, and start a new life."
Rarity couldn't bear to meet his misty eyes, and looked at the ground.
"Now I have to listen to some whiney-mythical-'princess'-horse tellin' me how bad she's got it. Well here's the deal Princess, I never had nobody taking care of me hand and foot in a castle. You think I'm a monster? You don't even know what a monster is! You don't know a thing about me! You don't have a clue what I've been through! You've been away from home for two days, boo-fuckin'-hoo, try over six years, Princess!"
Rarity hated it when he called her 'Princess', as if it were an insult; but his voice softened after taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. Rarity could only sit there with her ears splayed back, not in anger, but in shame. Taking in every word as it beat against her heart, while Atchmon raised an arm and extended his digit towards the forest. As if to hold it at bay.
"Out here, things can and will , always get worse. All it takes is a second." Snap! Atchmon brought his hand in front of her and snapped his digits, causing her to flinch and look up at him; her body trembling in the wake of his rant. Through it all, she kept a determined look, trying not to show how much he intimidated her.
"Just one moment, one mistake, and it's over." He reached down, and pulled up his pant leg. His flesh was marred halfway up his calf, and was separated by a clear line of smooth skin that ran the rest of the way up his leg.
It looked as though he'd been burned in a fire, but Rarity knew it was the result of a cockatrice attack. She looked at it for only a moment, her eyes widened in realization, before looking at the human's face. Listening to his calm voice.
"Yeah, I've killed my fair share of monsters out here, but I did it so I can stay alive. So that one day, when that door opens. I'll be here, alive and ready to walk back through it." He paused for a moment, both looking into each other's eyes.
"At least you're on the same world you came from. That's a pretty big step forward towards home, if you ask me." He shook his head. "But what do I know, I'm just some... monster after all." Atchmon stood up, taking the body of the cockatrice with him, leaving Rarity alone in the meadow.
She sat there for a minute before getting up and heading back inside the den, but not before looking in Atchmon's direction. He stopped midway from tearing off the scales of the cockatrice. Looking up at her from the bottom of the hill, with her standing before the entrance. Neither spoke as they both looked at each other from the distance separating them. Rarity hung her head before cantering inside. Atchmon tore into the beast with a bit more fervor, taking some of his frustration out on the carcass. Built from Rarity's hurtful words.
Rarity laid upon the grass bed, her stomach finally settled, with no thoughts entering her mind. Trying to avoid thinking about what happened, and what was said between them. She no longer kept track of the time, only focusing on having a pity party as depression set in once again. Atchmon entered the cave along with the fresh smell of dirt and copper which permeated from him.
He grabbed some of the furless leather, then left without a word, returning with them a short while later. This time the smell of cooked meat saturated the room, having wrapped the jerky with the leather. Rarity scrunched up her face at the powerful aroma, despite knowing what it was, she silently admitted it smelled good. Course she would never tell him that. He left once more coming back with the wolf hides wrapped up in furry rolls.
Atchmon approached her. She rose up, puffing out her chest and cheeks, as if daring him to do say something else. He looked at her for a moment before kneeling down, reaching underneath the bed and pulling out a pair of moccasins. Then grabbing the spear before making his way out. Atchmon poked his head back inside the cave a moment later.
"Come with me... we can solve at least one of your problems today." He said before retreating back out.
Rarity stepped outside the den, Atchmon was waiting for her at the bottom of the hill. The smell and the corpses were completely gone, and the tanning racks were put away, leaving only the meaty remains of the cockatrice over the fire.
Rarity looked at Atchmon expectantly, before he walked around their home and into the forest. Not bothering to check if she was following him or not.
Rarity followed, her head hung low, still feeling a tinge of anger from her compromised diet, and forced carnivore-ism.
The sun was low over the horizon, bathing the forest in an array of orange-yellow light. The pair walked for a while, long enough that Rarity's leg was aching again, until she heard the familiar sound of rushing water. They came up to a large brook, following it a short way down until they stood atop a wide waterfall that was half as much taller than Atchmon. There was a semicircular pool of water with a few flat-looking boulders sticking out of the middle directly underneath the falls. It looked as though it were once part of the shelf before time and erosion brought it down. Making it a perfect spot to sit and bathe under the falling water.
The trickle of water itself was nothing impressive, but was more than enough for their needs. To the side near some rocks there appeared to be a little nook of smooth stones with flakes all around. There were small piles of arrow heads and some larger ones which must've been used for spears.
A huge hole was dug into the opposite bank with several clay bowls and pots all around, along with the remnants of a fire which must have been used to heat-treat the ceramics. It looked as though Atchmon gave up on a particularly large vase, for it looked warped sitting off to the side.
This must be where he makes most of his tools and crafts. At least that's something we have in common, perhaps I can appeal to his more artistic side. Rarity thought as she took in the area.
"It's not a hot bath, but it's a lot better than nothin'," Atchmon stuck the spear into the soft earth and got undressed.
Rarity watched as he proceeded to remove his boots, socks, belt, and blue jeans. She couldn't help but admire the craftsmareship of the thick leather 'hoofwear', despite the material it was made. And Wondering how many miles they must have tread, the hardships they must have face; yet still only looked well-worn. Rariry could tell its craftsmare took pride her work, this 'Magellan' was truly a genius of her craft. She was amazed at its claims to being 'waterproof', as was written on the tags.
After seeing Atchmon's tiny, frail digits on the ends of his legs, Rarity could understand the need for such hardy hoofwear. His only article of clothing was a faded blue material, torn in some places, yet managed to remain mostly intact after all this time. It was shoddily maintained by a combination of twine, leather patches, and strips. No doubt from his past hunts. Rarity wanted a chance to examine the hardy fabric.
Atchmon was about to remove his undergarments as well, before glancing at Rarity, and running his eyes over her naked body.
"You don't normally wear clothes, do ya?" He asked, while remaining bent near her level.
Rarity only looked away from him, and shook her head. Still ashamed of herself or angry at him. She couldn't tell.
He removed those as well, then waded into the shallow pool while carrying his clothing. Leaving his belt, boots, and knife next to Rarity, and away from the water.
Rarity only caught a glimpse of his maleness, and now not only was her dignity as a pony ruined, but also her honor and pride as a mare. He was a male. She only just assumed based on the sound of his voice, for it sounded like a stallion. Yet she still held onto that little inkling of doubt in the back of her mind that he was actually a she. He was a male surviving out here all on his own; protecting and saving her, a mare, from the beasts of the Everfree Forest. It was always a mare's job to protect the stallion.
Rarity had always been a fanfilly of those trashy romance novels which upheld the views of patriarchy, unfortunately most of the male protagonists fell in love with another of the same sex. She could only read so many of those, before the thought of two males together did nothing for her. Now she only loved the ones that promoted monogamy between a mare and a stallion. Those were few and far between, it being a strange, taboo form of herding. Though it has always been her filly-hood fantasy to be rescued by a big, strong, handsome, Prince of a stallion. He would be hers and only hers. Not- this -thing in front of her.
The damage to her ego ebbed as she watched Atchmon make his way to the boulders underneath the falls. He sat upon them, and let the water wash off the sweat, dirt, grime, and dried blood from his body. All while washing his clothing upon the rocks, using them as a makeshift washboard. He scraped and slapped his clothing across the boulder's rough surface, before turning them over and repeating the process.
Rarity looked at her own reflection in the pool of water. The curls in her mane and tail were gone, leaving them flat and haggard-looking with split ends. Looking much like the time she pretended to be like Applejack to get Trenderhoof's attention. She sniffed herself, and recoiled a little from her natural odor.
Atchmon bathed himself underneath the falling water, and occasionally looking over at Rarity as she checked herself over.
She noticed him and promptly looked away with a pout.
"Better get clean quick, not much daylight left." He called out to her.
Rarity felt a pang of anger having been ordered by a male, but couldn't deny that he was right. Plus, she wanted desperately to feel clean again. So, she swallowed what little there was left of her wounded pride, and waded into the pool. She kicked at the water with a fore hoof before taking another step, causing the water to splash underneath her belly with every strike. She constantly checked its depth, not wanting to go in too deep.
"It doesn't get much deeper than that. Come on over. The waterfall will get'chu clean a lot faster." Atchmon called to her. His voice made her jump, and she looked at him with her angry cerulean eyes.
"I know what I'm doing!" She snapped at him.
"Fine, suit'cherself." He replied flatly, and turned away from her, listening to the 'ker-thunk' sounds her hooves made when hitting the water.
Atchmon didn't bother looking at her again until she made it underneath the falls a time later. Rarity sat across from him where the falls were less intense, letting the warm summer water wash over her aching body. She could practically feel the sweat, grime and stress of the last couple days falling off her coat. Rarity relaxed as she let the large droplets pelt and spatter off the top of her head, before raising up and letting the falls do the same for her face.
Atchmon sat facing away from her, she looked at his cutie mark upon his back, wondering what talent he possessed which were represented by such beautifully intricate wings. Surely, he could not fly.
Both bathed silently until Rarity felt she was clean enough, before splashing her way back to the bank. Atchmon watched her as she left, noticing her wet tail dragging behind her on the ground. Rarity shook herself off like a dog, causing water to spray everywhere leaving her mostly dry. She waited for Atchmon to finish, her damp mane left sticking to her neck and nubile shoulders.
"You might want to trim that, unless you want it to get dirty again." He said pointing at her tail. She followed where he pointing.
"And how would I do that? In case you didn't know, I didn't bring my scissors with me, since you never told me we were going for a swim." She growled at him.
"You can use my knife if you want, it's clean, so it's up to you." He replied, nonchalantly.
She looked at the sheathed knife resting on his boots, before levitating it up and pulling it out with her magic. It was a large, wicked-looking blade, more than half as long as her own leg. The shining silver metal practically glowed in the dim light of the forest. The back of the blade was serrated like a saw, and the blade itself looked sharp enough she could cut herself just by looking at it. Atchmon called it a knife, but to Rarity it was more like a shortsword.
'How many things has he killed with this?' Rarity thought before carefully cutting off the excess hair from her tail. The blade's sharpness parted the fibers long before she put any real pressure on them.
When Atchmon finished bathing, he placed his now 'clean' laundry on a twine tied between a couple trees, before pulling off another dry pair from the line. Putting them on, as well as his moccasins.
"Why on earth are you gathering my hair? Do you have some sort of weird hair fetish or something." She said nastily.
"Everything has its uses. I'll show you one later, when we get back." He said simply, washing them off and placing them in his pocket after wringing out the moisture, then leaving it at that. Atchmon gathered the rest of his belongings, and together the two headed back to camp.
When the pair returned, Atchmon placed his belongings back inside the den, then threw a few more blocks of wood on the smoking pile of embers, fanning it until another low fire was going. Rarity sat on the grass near the flames, letting the heat from the fire further dry off her coat.
Rarity slapped at her neck and flanks as the bugs ate at her. Whipping her short tail back and forth trying desperately, though ineffectively, to disperse the annoying pests.
Atchmon sat perfectly still near the fire, watching her with a smug smile on his face.
"By Celestia; I beg you to send this scourge to the moon!" She cried angrily after slapping herself particularly hard to emphasise her point.
"Hahe." Atchmon chuckled lightly at her misery.
"Stop laughing; It isn't funny! Oh, what I wouldn't give for some bug spray, and- Hey? Why aren't they biting you?" Rarity asked when she realized Atchmon hadn't swatted at himself not once since they left the waterfall.
"Stay near the fire and bathe in the smoke a bit, it'll keep the bugs off ya," he advised.
Rarity did as he said without question wanting to be rid of the vile insects, which never halted their assault on her flanks. They nearly instantly dispersed, their occasional bites eventually halted altogether. She had to move out of the smoke every once in a while, though grateful for the relief it provided from the swarming blight, it choked her and stung her eyes whenever she stayed in it too long.
Atchmon busied himself by rotating the cockatrice he placed on a spit over the fire. It's bottom half was mostly charred, but he didn't seem to care, wanting to get the other side done as well. He had the spit angled in such a way oil from cooking the meat drained into a small bowl he had placed within the fire. Another bowl was also placed in the fire, which was taken out as soon as the water inside it started boiling. Throwing a few strands of her hair in the hot water.
She could barely watch him feed, making her disgust known. Once he finished his meal he took out a strand of her hair from the bowl, and used it as floss.
"Ugh! You are the most disgusting thing I have ever had the misfortune to know." She snarled.
Atchmon frowned and decided to ignore her while washing his hands and mouth out with the warm water.
The smell from the cooked cockatrice had significantly dissipated. The remaining stench carried off by the wind until the only smell left was of the smoke from the fire in front of them.
Rarity and Atchmon sat for long while as the sun set, listening to the occasional pop of the firewood, neither speaking a word to the other. Nothing came to Rarity's mind as she observed the flames.
Atchmon picked out a few bones from the carcasses earlier that day. For whatever purpose he felt they could be used, and left them atop the stone barrier surrounding the fire.
"You're not a very nice princess." He said with a somber look, before getting up and wordlessly entering the den. Leaving Rarity alone with the dying flames. The quiet sound of his voice had taken her aback, and felt as though he had slapped her in the face.
'I'm not being very nice? Who does he think he is!?'
Rarity sat there watching the flames until the thoughts of the day's events entered her mind. Realizing she had no right to be so cross with him. True, he did violate her trust by force feeding her the eyes of a cockatrice, but that was only to save her from the misery of what would have happened if he didn't. Maybe even after all this time, he still just doesn't know how things work here. All he ever did was help her. Granted, it wasn't the help she wanted, but it was the help she needed. And what she needed to do now, was make amends. Not for fear of his ire, but as a pony who needed to set things right.
Rarity stood up, her hind leg still wrapped tight in the bandage, moving like a oar in a row boat, as she trotted up the hill. She magiked the stick barrier out of the way before cutting off the spell, and letting it rest on her croup.
Atchmon was laying on his bed with his back propped up against the wall. His head touching the bottom of the charm, causing it to bob around slightly whenever he moved. The fur blanket was resting underneath him, returned to its rightful place. Rarity watched him for a moment, only her head and neck were visible from the entrance, the opening angled just off from being a straight line to the back of the cave where Atchmon rested.
He hadn't noticed Rarity enter, or maybe he just didn't want to acknowledge her, she couldn't tell. Rarity approached him slowly, the soft clopping sound of her hooves against the hard rock floor, contrasted against the steady rasps of his blade as it slid across the whetstone which he held.
"If you think I'm giving up my bed after everything you said to me, you can forget it. I. Ain't. Budgin'! You can sleep outside for all I care," he glared at her, before returning to sharpening his knife.
Rarity sat there trying to think of what to say, as she waited, the setting sun sent rays of light through the gaps between the stick doorway, illuminating the final wall next to the bed. Rarity hadn't noticed it before; the back of the cave was always too dark earlier that day. Shafts of light shone on the final mural. The story started from the top where the wall curved into the ceiling, and ended near the bottom just above the bed.
It showed his figure walking through the wilderness, before coming up to a special pair of trees. Their trunks formed an archway, before spiraling around each other and shooting straight up into the heavens. Blue lines were drawn around its branches as if to depict a glowing effect. Atchmon had entered through the archway, only to be chased by a manticore.
Rarity wondered if the image was drawn to scale, because the beast was easily four times larger than Atchmon's figure. The next painting showed the beast with arrows in its shoulder, pinning Atchmon down with its stinger in his side. All while holding his bow in the beast's mouth, preventing the sharp teeth of his foe from delivering a killing bite. Atchmon held his blade up high as the monster lay on top of him.
The next image showed Atchmon walking away from the sleeping form of the beast. He was doubled over with wavy green lines over his figure, and a pool of red below him. 'He was poisoned and wounded!' The next was a slightly larger figure of himself sticking his knife into his side with green and red lines running down it. 'He drained the poison from his body, along with more of his own blood!' The next he built a fire and cauterized the wounds. The remaining images were of him returning to the archway, only now the lines around the trees were gone. His figured looked saddened.
The way home was closed...
The final image was his figure surrounded by the various beasts of the Everfree. Wolves, both Timber and Dire, bear, cockatrice, manticore, pegaboar, serpents, carnivorous plants, Chupacabra, and chimeras. He faced all with only his knife and bow in hand, as they closed in around him.
Rarity's heart beat in her chest after learning of Atchmon's hardships, shifting back slightly to take in the whole mural. She gazed over it once more before landing on Atchmon's back, which faced her. He had sheathed his blade, placing it and the whetstone on the tiny table next to the bed. As Rarity looked upon him she couldn't help but think how pathetic he looked. No, not pathetic... alone, he looked alone.
Out of all the powerful beasts in the forest, it was Rarity who brought low 'The Mighty Hunter', the 'Scourge of the Everfree', the 'Monster of Monsters'.
With nothing but a few harsh words, and some scorn.
It was then she realized he wasn't a monster, nor a beast. He was a thinking, feeling being. Just like her.... Rarity remembered how devastated she felt when the puppeteer disliked her first attempt at a puppet stage she had built for him. Trying to imagine what it must be like to never hear another pony's voice for years, only to be called such nasty names. She couldn't... she couldn't understand at all. Being the socialite, she was, Rarity was never without gossip or company.
"Atchmon?" She gently called his name, and spoke from the heart. "I'm sorry for the way I've been acting, it's- very unladylike of me... About what I said to you, I didn't really know you. You- You don't deserve that... nopony does. I didn't... understand. And I do appreciate everything you've done for me, you saved me, even though you had no reason to, and even though we're complete strangers. More than that, we're completely alien to each other." She paused for a moment trying to gauge his reaction. None came as he continued to face away from her, his ears never moved, making it impossible for Rarity to read him. "Atchmon? I-I gave you a chance to prove yourself to me, and you have. Please, give me a chance to do the same. You were right about me, I can't survive out here on my own. Please, I need your help, and... As Princess, I'll do everything in my power to reward you for your assistance. Please, would you help me get home?"
Atchmon was silent for a while, his silence served as a reminder of how she left things with Sweetie Bell back home. He stayed silent so long that Rarity started to think there was something wrong with her. He turned over just enough to look at her with one eye, then turned his back to her again.
"I can't help you Rarity, I can't even help myself." He spoke to the wall, his answer crushing her spirit. He sighed again before turning completely over to face her. Sitting on the edge of the bed with his knees resting on the frame. It was the first time she ever got a look at his chest, any other time he was always angled away from her, or bent over so far, she couldn't see, or she constantly looked away from him or directly at his eyes and face. Rarity couldn't believe she never noticed the large scars raked across his torso. Scars left from his first encounter with a beast of the Everfree.
"What you said earlier, about 'deserving to be alone'. That really got to me. This... life, if you could even call it that. I wouldn't wish it on anybody, Unicorn or otherwise. Nobody deserves to live like this." He said, while motioning around the cave. "You were half-right though, I did love it here. At first." He finished, speaking distantly.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that to you. I've been acting so uncouth towards you. You don't deserve be called those things, not after you helped me so much. I'm just- I never-" Rarity pleaded, wanting him to forgive her.
"Hey. I get it, but you understand now, right? Why I made you eat- that? If I hadn't, you know what would have happened?"
"Yes, I did, and I do, and... thank you again." She said while rubbing her forehooves, as phantom pains rose from the recent tragedy.
"Sorry I broke my promise already, was never very good at keeping those." He said distantly. "So what kind of 'bad things' can I expect from breaking it?" He asked.
"What? Oh! Oh, um, I think we can let it pass, just this once." She said with a sad smile. The two were silent for a few moments before Rarity spoke again.
"You forgive me... for being so mean?" Rarity asked quietly while digging a hoof into the floor, looking down, with ears drooping slightly. Worry etched in her voice, and on her face.
"I'll tell you what, this wasn't how I imagined my first conversation in years to go." And I ruined that for him. She thought as she dipped her head in shame. "But!" He caught her gaze before it fell too low, her ears perking to his cheery voice. "I'm willing to start over, if you are too." Atchmon reached his hand out to her. "Hi. I'm Atchmon, nice to meet you." He said, half smiling at her.
Rarity looked to his hand, then at his face in confusion. A smile grew on hers as well, when she realized what he was doing. He was giving her a second chance. Rarity reached out with a hoof, her heart speeding up as he grasped it, then lightly shook it.
"Rarity, a pleasure to make your acquaintance." She beamed.
The two friends, turned frenemies, turned friends again sat there for a moment, just smiling at each other, before Rarity broke the silence.
"Did you want to have that talk now?" She asked, feeling hopeful.
"Actually, as much as I really want to. And I really do want to. I'm just way too tired right now." He shook his head, and sighed. "I been up all night cleanin' you up, skinnin' those wolves, an' carryin' you all back... I just wanna go to sleep right now. So, first thing tomorrow sound good?" He shrugged, giving her an apologetic half smile.
Rarity could see the puffiness in his eyes, knowing he must've been exhausted from such an exciting day. "That sounds perfectly fine to me Atchmon, I feel my own tiredness setting in as well, though..." She trailed, eyeing the bed and biting her lip, while scuffing a hoof at the ground with a pleading look upon her face. Hoping to send the message that she really didn't want to sleep on the ground tonight; or outside for that matter. Given her behavior earlier that day, she wouldn't blame him for kicking her out of bed, and making her sleep on the metaphorical couch. Typical overly emotional males.
Atchmon caught her gaze and chuckled lightly, then scooted over on the sizable bed, with his front nearly touching the back wall; and made enough room for Rarity to lay comfortably next to him.
"Take it or leave it, Princess." Atchmon smiled over his shoulder to her.
It took a moment for Rarity to realize what he was doing, not totally forgiving her by completely giving up his bed, but offering it to share with her regardless.
She stepped forward with a bit of trepidation, having never shared a bed so intimately with anypony before, despite all the rumors to the contrary. Even when she had that sleepover at Twilight's library there was always plenty of room between her and Applejack. Though that space had shrunk significantly sometime in the middle of the night, who knew the tough farm-mare was such a cuddler. The memory of that time seemed ages ago.
Rarity recoiled a bit after feeling the fuzzy blanket with her hoof, remembering that it once belonged to a bear that probably used to sleep right where she was going to lay. She grimaced at the thought. Though, the fur was quite soft and comfortable... She took a breath, gathering her nerves and pushing her discomfort aside, before stepping up onto the bed. Standing atop it, then folding her front hooves underneath her one at a time, before dropping her rump, accidentally bumping into Atchmon's backside.
"Sorry." Rarity apologized when she touched him.
"You're okay." He said. Then, after a minute or so, he slowly relaxed pressing a bit of his weight into her. "Still okay back there?"
"Yes, I'm fine, thank you." She replied, feeling the smoothness of his back rub against her, and the warmth that seemed to radiate off of him as it seeped into her cold coat. After a while she relaxed as well.
"You're very warm, even though you don't have any fur. No offense." She felt a little worried that his furlessness was a sensitive subject. Forgetting how miserable life is for a pony that caught mange. Despite his scars, he didn't look diseased in any way.
"M' hot natured." He replied sleepily.
"Goodnight Atchmon, I look forward to our conversation tomorrow."
"Me too, g'nite Rares. See you in the mornin'." He yawned.
Rarity felt a tinge of sadness after hearing the nickname Applejack dubbed for her. And wondered briefly if there was some sort of cosmic bond between worlds, where beings with country accents acted so similarly. It was a cruel reminder to how much she missed her friend, and wanted to be with her more than ever. She turned, nuzzling into him, and rubbing her head into the back of his neck where it met his shoulder, and made sure to avoid his stitches.
His skin felt smooth against her coat, his scent smelled like the smoke from the fire mixed in with his own natural aroma, which teased her nostrils. Not too much, but enough to tickle her senses. His smell reminded her of chocolate. Ooh, what she wouldn't give for a bar of that delicious treat right now.
Atchmon gave one last big yawn which shifted her over slightly. Both content with their positions on the bed, which for the first time since its creation, was at full capacity. Rarity closed her eyes letting the steady movement from his breathing gently rock her to sleep.