Not only did a rainbow of colors stretch around me, but so did I. I feel myself stretch into a spaghettification I heard about that theoretically occurs for those caught in a black hole. A daunting thought occurs to me, should I have set the coordinates to Equestria before I entered? Is a wormhole without the end-point just a singularity?

But before I know it, I arrive on the other side. I wobble back and forth due to how dizzy I feel, and then I lose my balance. As I fall forward, I try to push against the ground to weaken the impact. Instead, that action ended up steadying me.

Huh?

I look down, and then it hits me.

Oh yeah! Horses are quadrupeds.

Horses are quadrupeds. I'm a quadruped now, so it means I'm now a HORSE! Oh my GOD! It really happened!

I feel so giddy over this fact that I inadvertently cause a horse whinny, then I pause to absorb that fact.

Did I just whinny now? Oh my GOD! That's so adorable! And weird...

I'm really a horse now! I have got to find a mirror asap.

Also . . . I'm apparently naked now. I know for a fact that I entered my universe with clothes on, but this universe is shaking its head and going, “Nah-ah. Nope. We don't do that 'clothes' thing in Horse-Land.”

I pause in shock when I realize something, then urgently look down at my neck. I see my golden locket still there, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

Oh good! I still have my precious locket. You can have my pink dress if you insist, Horse Universe, but don’t you dare touch my locket!

My locket? Actually, I'm curious now.

I reach my right hoof to lift it closer but it falls off. I blink at it, then droop my eyes at it halfway.

Okay, now here's a puzzle. How the hell am I able to open it now? I want to see if the picture inside of me and Mom have been ponified, but my new physical “hoofy” caps leave much to be desired in terms of useful functionality.

For two minutes, I try in vain to get it open. I try a combination of using one hoof, then hoof and mouth, then sit on my tushie as I try to fiddle with it using both of my forehooves. The most success I get is with both hooves and my mouth, but I could not get my teeth into the groove of the locket enough to pry it open.

Damn it! These hooves are useless unless I only plan on walking with them.

Come to think of it, isn't it less sanitary to manipulate things with the very appendages I walk upon?

Again, my eyelids droop.

I try to remind myself that applying logic to Horse-Land is likely not a good idea. This world operates on its own set of rules. Here, I am just a level one player. Probably not much better than a little filly.

It finally occurs to me to check my surroundings.

I look around and notice, to my relief, that I am alone in this room. Apparently they don't post guards on this side constantly. What fools. I know I would, Your Majesty!

Actually, this room appears to be a storage area for . . . stuff. Unidentified stuff to me.

On second thought, this room appears quite close to my mother's basement. It's all organized chaos. Random gadgets and knickknacks are spread out all over the place. This looks like a mad scientist's botched attempt to invent something to take over the world, or at least the tri-state area. The main difference between the stuff here and my mother's basement is the tech here is much more primitive. More steam-punk'ish.

In fact, one of the core components on this side of this magical mirror appears to be an accordion.

Freaky.

Curiously, there appears to be no windows in this room, nor are there any visible light sources, yet I can see in this room just fine. Do ponies have darkvision?

As I continue to look around, I eventually spot the answer, and it takes my breath away. The reason this room isn't dark is because the walls are made of crystal. Amethyst, by the looks of it. That crystal wall is capturing the light from outside and causing the crystal to glow. The condition for that likely requires it to remain daylight outside. If I’m right, I’m going to have a lot of lighting trouble in this room when it becomes nighttime outside.

It is daylight on my world too, so these two appear to be synchronized somewhat in that regard. That’s an interesting note to self.

I attempt to roll myself back onto my four hooves, but it is tricky. I do manage it except I also end up stumbling about like an idiot.

Okay. That's a problem. I'm definitely going to be suspicious in this world if I keep stumbling about like a newborn baby. Time to practice walking . . . or trotting, I correct myself. Since I'm alone and not being observed for the moment, it means I have this chance to practice in privacy. Thank goodness for some blessings.

Then something startling occurs to me.

I whip my head at the machine I just came from and take a closer look at it. The technology on it is very different from my world, but it does present at least a passing similarity to my mother's machine. It's about as similar as these ponies are to humans. The mirror is flanked by old fashion coils and shiny copper wires. At the top is something that resembles a harp.

Then, to the side, I notice another smaller mirror. I take a closer look at it. It reflects the furry quadrupedal version of me as a mirror should, but I can't shake the feeling that there is something special about it. Based on where it is placed, this mirror is in the same relative space as my mother's computer screen, except this “screen” does not have a keyboard beneath it.

Instead of a keyboard, there are two rods pointing diagonally up away from each other. They also have rings hovering around them.

I tap one of the rods with my right forward hoof very gingerly. It does not give at all, but the rings do slightly. I end up pushing it about an inch but then it immediately stabilizes itself with the rod in the exact center of the rings.

I study this contraption, then something occurs to me that makes my heart sink. I know of two ponies for sure who probably aided in the construction of this thing on this side, Princess Twilight Sparkle and my mother. Unlike Princess Twilight, my mother does not get wings when she is ponified, but she does gain a horn. That means both women are unicorns to some extent, so it would be logical if the machine on this side absolutely requires a horn to operate.

Well, that's certainly one way to secure this machine. As I understand it, roughly two-thirds of all ponykind do not have a horn. They would not stand a chance to use this thing if my hypothesis is correct.

That’s just fricken racist!

Come to think of it . . .

I look back and notice, for the first time, that I have a pair of wings. They match the color of my coat which, in turn, matches the color of my skin as a human. I seem to be a mostly dull pink teenaged mare.

I look back at the mirror that passes for a computer monitor on this side. Since it is not yet “activated”, it just shows my reflection.

I apparently still have my hairband on my head with the two Red Rook symbols on the sides. My hair is still teal color and lighter teal color, and they are all done up on many short curls. I also still have my cute little symmetrical freckles and reddish-brown eyes.

But that is where the similarity ends. It's the face that really gets me. The shape of the face is closer to a pony but more human-like than I expected because the snout barely juts out at all. As far as differences go, my attention are really drawn to my ears. They are thick, pointy ears that are further up the sides of my head, almost to the top of my head. As I concentrate on them, I notice I can almost control the direction they are facing.

Oh my GOD, Cozy Glow! You are so adorable right now!

I just want to hug you.

And squeeze you.

And pinch you.

And love you to itty-bitty widdle pieces.

. . .

Wow! I feel so psychotic all of the sudden.

I try a vast variety of facial expressions in front of the mirror to see what I look like in pony form. I try happy, sad, annoyed, silly, stone serious, fearful, angry, surprised, and overjoyed. For each one, I observe carefully how I look.

Wow, this is so fun! It's like looking at various cartoon meme faces. I wish I had my camera! I'd take a selfie of these facial expressions for damn sure!

I also do something like this in the human world sometimes. It's good to know what others see when I try on various expressions. After all, visual input is a very key component to communication and manipulation.

Just about every expression I try deepens my giddy feeling of being super cute in this form. Even my most annoyed scowls raise a giggle out of me inwardly.

Dear god, this is too fun! However, I better get a move on, otherwise a whole day may pass me by.

Alright.

I turn away from the mirror.

Time to practice trotting again . . .

. . .

. . .

. . . right after I check my cutie mark.

I bring my head back around as much as I can and attempt to shift my hindquarters at an angle to assist my assessment, but then it occurs to me that there is a better way to do this. This room has no shortage of mirrors, after all.

But, for this one, I go to the big mirror, the one I had stepped out of and into this world. Now that it is closed, it became a basic mirror once again. Unlike the “computer monitor” one, the portal mirror is way taller and oval-shaped instead of circular. From there, I easily steer my flank into view of the mirror and gaze at the reflection. It reveals . . .

. . . a Red Rook chess piece.

Huh.

I blink.

I suppose I should have seen that one coming. Now I'm even more grateful that I didn't use it as my cracker alias. It really would have been too on the nose.

Then I get contemplative.

A Red Rook cutie mark. That means it's symbolically who I am, at least according to the perception of this universe.

I contemplate the possibility that my pony counterpart got the same cutie mark. If she did, did she gain it at the same time? At what point in my life had I earned mine? Or is it that I never truly had it until I stepped through the portal?

I didn't have this butt tattoo before I walked through the mirror, but this pony universe seemed to recognize some maturity in me and somehow this mark is chosen as the best representation for me, but who decides that? Me, or some other entity in this world?

That is a really deep philosophical discovery because it raises a lot of questions about inner identity, symbolic representation, and destiny versus free will. What does this really mean? Are we all just pawns on a chessboard played by sadistic higher powers?

I wish I could consult an organization that specifically dealt with cutie mark questions.

Then it occurs to me that, in this world, there just might be such an organization. Don't know how I'm ever going to find it, though, assuming one exists at all.

I shake my head hard.

Aw man! I need to stop getting side-tracked. These are all very interesting questions and observations, but I have a mission to complete and a whole world to explore to do it.

And I only have one weekend to complete my survey before my absence starts to get noticed in my world.

For that matter, how am I going to get back at all? I can't digitally hack this system or guess the password. I very likely need a horn to operate these controls.

I glance back at the mirror. So . . . I need a unicorn. Good to know where I stand, at least.

I may not have a horn, but I do have a brain, and I am good at using it to get others to do what I want.

So, again, first things first. Time to practice “trotting”.

After that, let's see if I can find something to disguise myself. After all, there’s a good chance that I might be identified by the locals if I'm not prepared, and there is a chance that will not be a good thing for me.

Next Chapter: Chapter Ten: Let me down! Estimated time remaining: 15 Hours, 45 Minutes