You have a certain perspective when you look back on the past, or more specifically, your past self. The you before you knew yourself. You might look back and wonder how you were ever so clueless, how, on reflection, you can't comprehend how you were ever less than you are.

Then again, you might not. But I do; that's what happens when you've been through what I have. I'm not saying it's anything bad, if anything it's the best thing that's ever happened to me. I can remember what life would be like if it hadn't happened, and the idea that if it hadn't I wouldn't have cared frightens me sometimes, perhaps more than it should.

I worry that I'll wake up from this dream and everything will be like it was before, that I'll never have met the friends I've made, that I'll be that poor simple fool living on that farm in the ass end of nowhere, blissfully ignorant of what I was missing.

But I'm getting ahead of myself, so I'll start at the beginning. My name is Maggie, and I'm a pony. You probably already knew that part, you're reading this after all, but the part you didn't know, the part that very few ponies know, is that 'Maggie' is a nickname.

My full name is Magic Magnolia Jet Bar, and I was born on Earth, in Wyoming. Before I came here I was... less than I am now, the memories I have of that time scare me more than I'd like to admit, the memories I have as a sentient being, remembering when I wasn't.

Often, I find that my thoughts come back to that December morning, the day that I... woke up.

The day began, like most days, with a feeding. Two flakes of alfalfa, a scoop and a half of grain, the occasional licorice treat. Standard. Routine. Normal.

Later, we were herded out into the pasture, free to graze, to run, to sleep. Free to be horses. That was my favorite part of the day, out in the sunlight, listening to the snow crunch under my hooves, not that I could truly appreciate such things... at the time.

The wolf pack burst out of the treeline faster than I could react and they split up into the herd, trying to separate the foals from the mares. I felt a nip at my fetlock and fired my back leg like an over-wound spring, felt the shock travel up my leg, heard the splintering of... wood?

Some part of me was confused by that, right up until the second wolf snapped at my leg. I panicked a blind unreasoning panic and I ran. The fence broke like dried twigs when I crashed into it, I broke through into the woods, branches and leaves scratched and cut at my face and legs.

I didn't feel it, panic was driving me, fear was fueling me, blind panic was guiding me. There was a light in the woods, almost blinding, rippling. It called to me, drew me in. It exuded safety and warmth. I ran towards it, my hooves started to chip as I galloped across the rocks.

I tripped. My hoof caught a seam in the rocks, if felt my leg snap, and I fell. My shoulder hit first, my head hit the rocks a second later; my teeth crashed together violently and I closed my eyes. Momentum carried me over and I rolled against the jagged rocks, felt another leg snap, felt the sharp edges digging into my hide.

I felt the light beating down on me, felt myself pass through it... and then I felt burning, tearing at my flesh. I'd failed, the wolves had me. For as much as I could have understood it, I knew it was over. Sound faded away, feeling faded away... and I faded away.

When I woke up I was surprised to be alive, surprised to be in as little pain as I was. I was surprised that thoughts had crossed my mind at all. It was as if a fog I was never aware of had been lifted from my mind.

It was a strange feeling, hard to convey in words. Startling comes to mind, startling to be disturbed by thoughts you previously lacked the capacity to have, and even worse that you've the ability to be startled by them in the first place; Like your first breath of air after nearly drowning, except you never knew you were drowning in the first place.

Terrifying is another word. There had been wolves trying to eat me, trying to eat my herd. I opened my eyes, the perspective was... off, like my eyes were in the wrong place. My vision to the sides was greatly reduced, everything in front of me was much clearer. I blinked. There was water in front of me, a small pond.

I started to get up, my legs stung with sudden pain, but they held my weight. Walking felt different as I limped to the water's edge. In retrospect I'm not sure how I was able to move at all, but perhaps it was instinct overriding shock.

I took a drink of the cool water. My mouth felt different, the position was wrong, but close enough to what I'd remembered that drinking wasn't too much of a problem. I stretched out a little after quenching my thirst. When I opened my eyes afterwards I spotted movement under me and looked down immediately.

A Face was staring back at me from the surface of the water. I moved my head to the left, it followed me to the left; Moved my head to the right,it followed me to the right. Something compelled me to look closer and I lowered my head to the surface of the water again, closer, closer.

My mouth touched the water, the Face touched me... and it was just the water. I pulled my head back, poked at the water with my right front hoof, saw my hoof touch the water, just as the hoof on the surface of the water touched it.

A reflection. If the hoof in the water was my hoof... The Face must have been... me. My eyes opened wide in realization and I reared back, my hind legs gave out, and I found myself sitting directly on my flank, staring out at the surface of the pond.

I sat there for what seemed like hours, trying to process everything, trying to figure out what had happened to me, trying to figure out why I was even capable of having that kind of thought. I shook my head and turned away from the pond and started walking, not sure what I was looking for, but feeling a need to look all the same.

If I'd known what I was in for as I walked towards the rising sun... I guess I wouldn't have changed a thing.