Running. He always was running. He loved running. It made him feel free. He cherished that feeling, because if he ever stopped running…

…he feared he would never be free again.

This time though, he ran not to be free, but to be alive. In the literal sense.

Currently, Spike was running for his life away from a snarling timberwolf. He cursed his long tail, which the timberwolf would sometimes nip at the very end.

“Ow! C’mon! I’m sorry for taking your lunch!” he yelped. He had been foraging for food as usual when he came upon a dead deer. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, and since it was two whole days since he had ate, he started to rip out some chunks from the stomach. He ate meat before, but at least he would cook it. Unfortunately, his growling stomach had overridden his brain, and he ate what he could raw, and in eating he forgot the one rule of forest survival.

If there’s a freshly dead animal, there is a definite chance whatever, or whoever killed it, it will be still be around that animal.

Forgetting this rule had the consequence of Spike getting suddenly tackled by the large and oddly red-striped timberwolf. From what he knew of forest creatures, the red-markings meant the timberwolf pack did not like this individual, and casted it out before it could do any harm to the group. Possible reasons include constant fighting with the breeding pair of timberwolves (breeding was a rather complicated process), constant disobeying of orders (there always is a leader in any pack to maintain order)…

And sometimes it just never liked to share its food.

After Spike got over his sudden shock of something hitting him, his brain decided to choose flight instead of fight. Pushing the timberwolf off before it could get its jaws on his neck, Spike rushed out of the area, with the timberwolf following close behind.

After a minute of chasing, Spike tripped on a root of a tree and tumbled head over heels into a clearing. He quickly stood back up to face the timberwolf, who had stopped in the clearing only a few feet from him. They both glared at each other, both predators in each other’s territories.

Spike considered his options. He could try to run again, but he was winded and the timberwolf would surely catch up to him. He could choose the literal flight in “fight or flight” and try to fly away, using his wings, but he wasn’t strong enough to fly straight up, and again his first run had tired him out to where he could probably do only a measly glide. In the middle of a valley, a glide would help as much as a castle at the bottom of a lake.

His only option then was to fight.

Spike clinged his claws against each other as he snarled to show his teeth, trying to intimidate the timberwolf before him to hopefully run away. That last hope was smashed when the timberwolf scratched the ground and snarled back, showing its own stained wooden fangs. Spike could smell the breath of the timberwolf, and hoped it was just a case of morning breath than the more obvious option considering its diet of meat.

Spike knew that the wolf could easily tackle him down to the ground, so he struck first. He charged at the timberwolf, intending to brutally force it away with his shoulder. They both fell over onto the ground, with Spike landing at the tree that had tripped him.

Before he knew it, the timberwolf stood back up and lunged at Spike on the tree. Reacting purely on reflexes, Spike managed to grab both front paws of the timberwolf, holding it back with it snapping and growling at his face.

Spike suddenly had an idea. Sucking in a breath, he blew fire from his mouth, encasing the timberwolf in his signature green flame. It yelped and howled in pain, and jumped back. With some small flames still burning on its edges, the timberwolf quickly scampered, leaving a heaving Spike in front of the tree.

For all his love of running, Spike was not good at it. Or any exercise for that matter.

Taking a few minutes to recuperate, Spike glanced around. He was in a part of the forest that he didn’t know. That meant he was out of his territory. Or, at least, what he considered his territory.

Spike knew that even though that timberwolf was in his territory, in reality he was the intruder in the forest.

Spike shook his head, trying not to think too much on that subject. It brought unwanted memories of what he was, and where he came from. And when those memories came, that was when he was at his most vulnerable.

He couldn’t afford to be vulnerable outside of his territory.

With a single puff of smoke, Spike lifted himself up to give himself a check-over for any injuries. His purple scales still shone in the sunlight from the canopy, despite the dirt and grime that had accumulated over the two years he had scavenged in the forest. His bones hadn’t been broken either, his long slender shape still in one piece. His legs hadn’t been cut either, as he was still able to walk on his fours with minimal pain, and he suspected the ache when he walked was from his running.

He spotted a lake a few yards from the canopy, and quickly walked through to see a field next to the lake. While the field seemed inviting, he felt a little more vulnerable when he brought himself close to the lake. He put his tongue in the water and, sensing it was clean enough, began to lap up the water. Before, he would have been appalled by acting little more than an animal, but now he had to in order to survive the last two years.

He looked at his reflection in the water, and found no visible injuries, which he thanked whatever gods there were that he escaped relatively unscathed. It wasn’t the first time he confronted a loner timberwolf, but it was the first one he didn’t get harmed.

Or, at least, relatively harmed. He looked back to see a small little portion of his tail was now missing, ripped off when the wolf was nipping at it. It was only a tiny portion though, so he should still be able to fly well (or at least, glide well).

He looked back at his reflection. His snout was noticeably longer than it was two years ago, but he hadn’t yet developed a full grown dragon snout. If anything, he had a snout as big as a pony’s muzzle.

Spike sat back down. He was acting like an animal, there was no use denying it. He was worthless like an animal, and he would never be loved by anything or anyone.

“NO!” Spike slammed his fist in the water. “Remember what Ignitus said. You are not worthless. You are a dragon. You are proud, powerful, and strong. Stay with a heart of gold, and you will never lose sight of what is right!” Spike yelled out, not for anyone but for himself. He shuddered at the heart of gold though, as the metal was something he wished he would never see again.

Suddenly he heard barking, and saw the loner timberwolf come back with a full pack. The loner was blackened in some areas, but the pack was primed and ready to take down Spike together. He visibly gulped.

With a small splash, he dove into the water, using his wings as big paddles to propel himself away from the flailing timberwolves after him. Rising on the other side of the lake, Spike looked back to see the timberwolves still after him, with the loner at the head of the pack. He yelped and ran in the opposite direction. He cursed himself after seeing nothing but open fields for miles.

He was out in the open, and being chased by predators, and slowly losing his breath. This was the ultimate DO NOT DO of survival, never being in the open and showing signs of weakness. Spike was completely screwed, and he knew it too.

He felt a weight crawling on his back and lost his balance, tumbling over in the process. He slashed out at anything that remotely moved in his vision, blurred from the tumble. He felt a solid blow land at the side of his head, and he slumped over in a daze. One timberwolf had thrown its body at his head, intending to knock him out.

He looked up with a headache towards the loner timberwolf, who growled as it stepped closer to him. He faded out of consciousness, cursing himself one last time for being such a failure in even protecting himself.

The first thing Spike could hear was the sound of his pained breaths echo slowly in the dark. Slowly regaining consciousness, he fluttered his eyes open, seeing in the blur his chest rising up and down.

“I’m alive? How? That timberwolf should have killed me! Where am I?” he thought. He quickly blinked in order to adjust his vision. He gasped.

Instead of being outside, he was now inside some wooden cottage. There was a rug in the center of the room, with a couch on one wall, which was what Spike was laying on. The air smelled of animals, yet the many distinct smells made Spike wonder how this cottage held so many different creatures. He knew he smelled both a bear and a rabbit, and from the strongest smell, he definitely knew a pony lived here. It was a heavenly smell of lilac and a slight tinge of vanilla that had him most interested, however.

It’s strange… It’s feels like a dream, yet not even dreams are this vivid. But…

Then Spike suddenly realized he was inside a pony’s house.

Immediately, he started to get off the couch, clawing desperately away and scaring some small animals that came up near him. However, he realized that even if he survived, he was still in a weakened state, judging by how sluggishly erratic his arms went in just a few seconds. After a minute, Spike decided to just roll over away from the couch.

He realized his mistake right as he rolled, as the small fall from the couch accentuated all the bruises and scrapes that he apparently did get from the timberwolves. A yell of pain shot from his mouth, and he heard hoofsteps coming down from stairs he didn’t notice before.

“Are, um, are you awake?” he heard a soft mewling voice say. The tone of the voice sounded almost genuinely concerned for the drake’s well-being, but… No, he remembered what Ignitus always reminded him before the escape.

“Never trust a pony.”

Spike had to get out of the cottage, and fast. Unfortunately, his body only wanted to be as fast as a slug, as each movement of his arms sent excruciating pain from their injuries.

“Oh, you poor thing. You fell off the couch…” A mare, Spike reasoned, was the one that had taken him inside the cottage, and he assumed the mare was right behind him, judging by the closeness of the voice.

Turning his head around, Spike’s heart almost stopped. He wasn’t sure if he was still alive or actually dead all along, as behind him stood a beautiful angel, with a long and lovely pink mane, a coat of the softest butter-cream color, and blue eyes that instantly mesmerized him.

The mare, shocked at how silent and unmoving the dragon became after seeing her, froze up as well. “Do you… do you want to rest on the couch?” she asked. The dragon still stared at her before finally realizing where he was, and tried to scramble away. For his efforts, his left arm bumped against the wall, and he hissed in pain as his body recoiled the arm back to his chest, holding it tightly as the throbbing bruises subsided.

With a surprised yelp, he felt himself move up in the air, before being settled down back on the couch. He felt soft blankets wrap his body, and he looked to the soft blue eyes of the angel he’d seen before.

“Do not worry, please. I know that meeting a pony like me is a little scary for a wild creature like you, even if you’re, um, bigger than me… But please stay! You’re really, really, really hurt from those timberwolves, it was a miracle that I was with Zecora and we found a struggling creature like you. I… I do want to ask… Why were those meanie wolves hurting you?”

Spike stared at the angel for an uncomfortable amount of time, before finally speaking, “It was because I ate one of their pack’s food carcasses.”

The angel gasped. “You… you can talk like normal ponies?”

“I know the pony language, yes. Better than most of the others, because of Madame Bellaloo,” he answered.

“Madame Bellaloo? Where are you from? I thought you were just a creature of the Everfree?” the Angel asked.

“Tch, for two years I was. A little dragon welp as I was, and the forest took two years to shape me into what I am now.”

The angel was suddenly horrified. “You’re… you’re a dragon?!” She subtly tried to dig her head deeper and deeper into her mane.

“Yes, but not like the big dragons you are probably familiar with. I am a Kroska dragon. We don’t grow much bigger than what I am now, but there’s a couple exceptions. We live way to the east, where we are, well, you should know.”

“I… I should know what?” The angel seemed both completely confused and still utterly terrified of the drake.

“You should know that ponies like you love to enslave our kind, to use us as your back-breaking laborers, our toil and blood for your crops and contraptions!” The drake tried to angrily point, but his arm still throbbed with pain, so he could only seethe at the angel that was also certainly a malevolent pony. During his rant, he fell off the couch again, feeling the back bruises ache once more. If she only lived alone with these animals, chances are she probably took him so that she could entrap him to work for her. The last time a mare wanted him to work personally for her… he didn’t want to remember.

“Wha… what? I don’t… I don’t enslave dragons!” the angel tried to pathetically defend herself.

“You still look down upon us. You ponies are always the same. You have magic, you can control the very fabric of space, and yet you use it for… selfish…”

Spike suddenly felt himself feeling droopy eyed, and wanted nothing more than to just rest and sleep wherever he was. He didn’t care about being lifted off the ground, he didn’t care about being placed on the bed, and he didn’t care about having a nice and soft blanket placed on him.

He did care in the furthest reaches of his mind when the angel kissed his forehead.

“Wow. I’ve never seen a dragon like this up close before…” Spike heard a voice say in the distance.

“Ah dunno… Ah wouldn’t get too close if ah was you. Fluttershy saw it come outta the Everfree, which means it’s gotta be bad news of some sort.”

“But it was hurt, Applejack! You know I just can’t not help any hurt creature! Especially if it’s, um, a dra…dragon…”

Spike, aware that his chest need oxygen from all the breath holding he did when he became conscious, suddenly gasped awake, taking a few deep and loud breaths. He noticed he scared the now three ponies, but he didn’t care.

“What… what happened to me?!” he yelled out to the mares. One mare, a lavender coated pony with purple bangs that had a pink streak along it, walked tentatively forward.

“Hello, um, mister dragon. My name is Princess Twilight Sparkle. You received a lot of damage from Timberwolves in the Everfree when Zecora scared them off. She and Fluttershy did their best to bandage you and help you recover. That was over two days ago. Yesterday you tried to get away in what I assume is fear of Fluttershy, telling her that you think she would put a dragon like you in chains and work for her. You overexerted yourself, and you fell back into a tired sleep. I’m truly sorry for whatever other ponies you’ve met, but you must understand that we aren’t like those ponies.”

The drake only stared at her, wondering if suddenly she was going to lash out with one of her spells and betray him, just as the other unicorns did.

What does it matter? I’m a dead guy anyway once the Gorunds find me. Probably whip me on the Post until they just sliced me in half along my back with the whip.

With dead resignation, he turned himself over on the couch, facing away from the mares. “Spike. My name is Spike. It’s what Ignitus gave me to remember, so that I could always consider myself free. Never worked after the first few months of my escape, to be honest.”

“Escape? Ya mean ya were a slave befoe’?” another mare said. Spike looked back to see it was the orange pony with a blonde mane.

On her head was Gorund’s Stetson.

Spike growled. Years of hatred poured into his eyes as he glared at the hat and then at the pony wearing the hat. Before he could do anything, however, he noticed the hat swiped off the mare’s head, and being thrown on the ground.

“What the? What’s gotten into ya, Shy?” the orange mare asked, incredulous that her best friend would treat one of her most cherished items with disrespect.

“The hat, Applejack. It’s a trigger for him,” said the yellow angel from before.

“Uh, come again?”

“I’ve seen in some animals how certain objects can just, um, trigger them to be, well, very mean. Or at least some other emotion. Harry couldn’t look at berries or he’ll start crying, as the berries remind him of when he was pelted with them as a cub from all the other cub bullies. Just like berries are Harry’s trigger, your hat must be some sort of trigger for Spike,” Fluttershy explained.

“But doesn’t Harry like berries though?” Princess Twilight asked. Spike noticed that along with having a horn, Twilight also sported wings. He’d seen some pegasi before, but never a pony with both a horn and wings.

“He does now, because I helped him with his therapy. Spike?” Fluttershy turned towards the drake, “Why does this hat bother you?” She lifted the offending object in her hoof, and Spike had the urge to immediately flinch away from it.

“It… it reminds me of him,” was all the drake uttered.

“Him? Who’s him, and what’s he doing with mah hat that’s got ya more antsy than an anthill?” Applejack asked.

“Does it… does it remind you of your, um, owners?” Twilight asked hesitantly, almost wanting to not say owners.

“…yes,” Spike mumbled. “Gorund. He controlled the biggest plot of land east of the Esio River, and he was ruthless. If even you make one mistake, it would probably be your last. We lived in fear of him and his drivers…”

“We? Who were you with?” Twilight inquired.

“Ignitus, mainly. He was something of my mentor, and a father. I was taken away from my parents as a kid. I went with a couple owners, but Gorund was my last. And I intend to never go back.” Spike finally glared back at the trio, after staring at the hat since he first laid his eyes on it.

“Well,” Applejack picked up her hat, setting it down on her head and smirking at the drake, “if any of Gorund’s pals come a knocking, ah’ll make sure to knock ‘em back.”

“Wha, what?” Spike was confused. Is this pony…actually wanting to help me stay away from Gorund?

“Ya heard me. It’s plum right awful what those ponies did to ya. You didn’t deserve to have that happen, and ah can see you’re a smart critter, smarter than ya think. If any ponies come in town that want to hurt ya, well Celestia have mercy on me for what ah do that day. It ain’t right that ponies hav’ta force innocent dragons like you inta that.”

Spike was distraught with an emotion he couldn’t name. Never before had a pony wanted to legitimately help him. Even a farmer pony such as Applejack would just salivate for having at least an extra hand they didn’t have to pay. Fluttershy and Twilight stepped up as well.

“I’m actually the personal student of Princess Celestia, I can get a letter to her explaining your situation. I’m sure that she would want to help you as much as I do!”

“You can stay here in my cottage, if you need to. I always love to help anyone in need.”

Spike was speechless. All three mares in front of him were doing something he never thought ponies would ever do. They cared about him. Each passing second his resolve was being broken, until finally all Spike could ever do was just cry. Painful memories surged into his mind, and constantly he wondered if anywhere in his life he did something that could deserve such kindness.

Seeing the weeping dragon, Twilight and Applejack were caught awkwardly wondering what to do with their hooves, while Fluttershy quickly zoomed up to the drake, consoling him with a left hoof rubbing along his bruised back. Oddly, the hoof made it feel better for Spike.

“There, there. It’s okay to cry. We know this must be a lot of change to take in, but I promise we will make sure you’re safe. There’s no more need to hide anymore, not in the forest, not anywhere. You’ll be okay…”

Spike sniffed, before Fluttershy felt him tense up. “What do you want?” he spoke harshly, both from the sobbing and from the sudden hostility in his voice.

“Want? We just want you to be-”

“No,” Spike interrupted. “What do you want from me? What do you want me to do, so I can earn this ‘kindness’ you think you’re giving me?”

Fluttershy was flabbergasted and confused. “We… we don’t want anything from you! Oh, but, I mean, we want you to be happy, yes, but that’s-”

“Shut it,” Spike uttered, moving away again from the mares. “You’re just like the others. You say you’ll help me, but then you’ll just use me. You always do.”

At a loss for what to do, Fluttershy took her hoof away from the drake and trotted backward towards her friends. Glancing at each other, they quickly said their goodbyes, trying to get away from the awkward tension in the air because of the reluctant dragon. Soon it was just Fluttershy and the dragon in the cottage, the other animals whom had been watching the whole event having later on abandoned the house.

Fluttershy, deciding to try one last time, went up to the drake, not daring to touch him however. She stood in front of the resting Spike on the couch, and took a deep breath before speaking. “You…you don’t have to do anything for us. You deserve to have a normal life, you deserve kindness in your life.”

The drake only stirred in his bed, finding a more comfortable position to sleep in. A disappointed Fluttershy soon left the room, feeling depressed that she couldn’t help Spike.

“…I don’t deserve anything…” he mumbled sadly.