Half Breed

                                                     Half Breed
                                                            by
                                                    ChaosDragon


Ch 1: A Mother's Love


As I lay upon the soft green grasses of spring, staring up at the azure sky as warmth spread over my body, I couldn't stop myself from smiling. The workings of the mind were just so ridiculously random at times that I couldn't help but find it funny. Of all the thoughts running through my head, the foremost in my mind at that moment, was wondering if I had ever seen the sky so clear before, or such a brilliant shade of blue; if the clouds had ever looked so fluffy and soft before, so inviting, gentle. It was all so ridiculous given the circumstances of the moment, that I almost felt silly. Fortunately, my heavenly contemplations were soon swept away, replaced by the myriad of other thoughts they had initially pushed their way through. Most of them were thoughts of my past. Thoughts of people known, things done, and places been, all long ago and far away now. Perhaps I should have been thinking of the present and its realities, rather than drifting through thoughts of days gone by, but I suppose a warm and gentle spring day is as fine a time as any to reminisce. It’s not as if I was going anywhere soon, or indeed, even had anywhere to go anymore, and it could do little harm. So I let my mind wander through the avenues of my memory as it willed, content to go along for the journey.

My first clear memory was of the delicate features of a mare’s face looking down at me. Her coat was a vivid green, the color of fresh spring grass, and she had a warm and gentle smile set upon full lips, with the most beautiful, deep blue eyes you have ever seen, as if crafted from flawless sapphires. Her left eye was half hidden behind her long silvery mane as it hung down over her face to tickle the tip of my nose. She looked at me with such soft and gentle eyes, the caring eyes of someone who loves you deeply, who would do anything for you. Those eyes always made me feel safe, they made me feel loved. The ceiling lights shone down on her from above, spilling out around her head, as if she was an angel come down from on high to grace the world with her presence. And to me, she was an angel, my protector, the person who loved me above all others, my mother.

I remember reaching up to grab her hair, though I’m not sure why. I think I liked the way it shone and shimmered in the light, like a silvery waterfall cascading over the moss of her coat. She just smiled and took my hand in her hoof, then leaned in and kissed my forehead. Looking back, I sometimes wish I could have stayed there, living in that moment of innocence and love, undisturbed by the reality of the world around me, back before the veil was torn from my eyes and I saw the world the way it truly was. But then again, perhaps it was all for the best that time inevitably moved onward, leaving me with only that little memory, making it all the more precious. Besides, I don’t know if I could truly trade all my future memories for that one moment, even if it could last forever. Not now anyway, not after everything I've been through.

My mother’s name was Forest Scroll, a typical unicorn really, with nothing particularly remarkable about her in any measurable sense besides her beauty, and even that could be easily overlooked if you weren't paying attention, as it was a subtle beauty. One would think her hair was grey if they only gave her a glance, and her delicate features and lovely eyes would go unnoticed as well, hidden behind the veil of her hair and a book half the time. Even her cutie mark was just a stack of three plain, blank scrolls with a blue quill and inkwell beside them, with the quill being half hidden by the inkwell, as if it knew it was the only source of real color in the image and was trying to hide so as not to draw attention. Her job was equally as subtle as her looks. She was a simple researcher, not the kind you hear about mind you, making new discoveries deep in the wilderness, or big breakthroughs in the latest fields, or even one of those insufferable ponies who do studies on the most ridiculous and obvious things, then acts like it’s a huge discovery that will actually contribute to the world, waving around their new fancy study that ‘definitively proves’ something everyone knew already just to get attention, like fire is hot. No, she was definitely not one of them. She was just one of those ponies who were naturally curious, loving to learn new things and find an answer to every random question that popped into their minds, one of those ponies mentioned briefly on the last pages of research papers and books, the ones you never think about as you flip through that encyclopedia that hands out the knowledge about the world they worked so hard to acquire. She was the quintessential background pony, and she was perfectly happy with that. I truly admired her for that humility, and I always tried my best to be like her. I guess I really have her to thank for my natural curiosity... and my intelligence... and my smile... I smiled a lot in those early days, just like her, sometimes for no reason other than the act itself... now that I look back on it, I realize I owe her so much more than I ever could have imagined...

Even more so because she was the only real influence in my life. Because as much as I would have liked to, I never knew my father then. Heck, I never even saw a picture of him. But my mother always talked of him favorably, so I guess she didn't resent him or anything. She told me that he was very kind and gentle, and she would go on and on about how knowledgeable he was, and the way he would treat everyone as if they were a friend, how full of laughter he was, and how deeply they loved each other. From the way she talked about him, I always assumed he had died, because it just didn't make any sense that the kind of person she described would just leave his family... right? But my mother never talked about his absence back then, not about him leaving, or his death, if that was what happened. She always seemed to turn the conversation to a new topic whenever we got onto it, and the funny thing was, I always let her. I guess somewhere deep down I always thought it would be more painful to know the truth, or maybe I just didn't want to know the truth. It’s possible I just didn't want to know about him, or maybe it just never occurred to me that I might ever want too. Perhaps I just wanted to keep my fantasies about him intact, untainted by the ‘burden of knowledge’ as my mother would say, and simply focus on what was, instead of what had been.

I was born in a place called Ponyville, on the 6th day of ‘Spring Eve’ by the reckoning of the New Celestial calendar if it matters. My mother was just a single mare raising a child all by herself, no husband, no family nearby, just me and her, but that was all we needed. We lived in a fairly modest house, it wasn't so big that it felt like no one was around, but not small enough that you got the feeling it was cramped. The word ‘comfortable’ comes to mind to describe it, now that I actually give it some thought, because the house always had this warm, inviting glow and an ever present smell of something unidentifiable, yet wonderful, baking in the oven, even though there wasn't. It would have been perfect for a family of three or four, but for the two of us, it was just as perfect because ‘we have enough love for three’ as my mother always told me. I always wanted to believe she meant that, but somehow I just always knew she had bought the place with the intention that we /would/ be a family of three.

I don’t remember much of the first few years, but I mean, who really does, other than vague impressions and blurs, but my mother would tell me about them on occasion. She said that the day she brought me home from the hospital was the happiest day of her life, but what mother doesn't say that, it’s like a requirement for all mothers. She told me she was so happy, that she named me Jikael Regipre, which means ‘wonderful gift’ in the tongue of my father. Thank you so /very/ much dad. But luckily she usually just called me Jake for short, unless of course she got mad at me, in which case she called me Jikael as she yelled, and there were plenty of those times as well, but I like to think the good outweighed the bad in the end.

Her eyes would light up with equal parts amusement and annoyance when she would recount the first day I figured out I could fly with those little wings on my back. Apparently I caused a bit of a mess around the house, zipping around all over the place with no control whatsoever and crashing into just about everything. She always said it was so bad that she started calling me a flying pinball. When she finally caught me she was more worried about me having hurt myself than the mess, but apparently I just stared up at her with a giant smile on my face and giggled as a bit of plaster dust ran off my head. She got the same look in her eye when she told me about when I started teething, I guess it was one of those things where it was so bad that, looking back on it, it’s just funny, because she would always laugh when she told me about it. She said that between me teething and my newfound ability to fly, that there was pretty much /nothing/ that didn’t have teeth marks and drool all over it. I never believed her of course until one day I voiced that disbelief. She looked at me with this expression that said ‘oh you poor naive little boy’ then she got up and pointed out the tooth marks on the chandelier attached to the ceiling. After that point I pretty much started taking her at her word for everything that happened before I could remember.

I do remember being happy though, in those first years of childish ignorance, where you ask silly and random questions for no reason, go out and play in the dirt just because you can, take a nap in the middle of the day, and wear your food because it’s more fun than eating it. It was a happy, blissful existence, if a short one. My mother and I stayed inside or in the backyard a lot in those days. I never had a babysitter either, she was always there with me, never even left to go shopping, she just always had things delivered, and I didn’t question it, it never even occurred to me to ask her why or to find it odd. I guess I just assumed it was because of her job. She read a lot and I guess back then I thought it was her job because of the scrolls on her cutie mark, stupid I know, but give me a break, I was two.  It was simpler back then though, no responsibilities, no obligations, nothing to do but just enjoy being a child... but childhood can’t last forever...


Ch 2: A Cruel World


The first time I remember going outside with my mother is still somewhat of a blur for me; I guess that was because of the fever. I had gotten really sick when I was about six years old, and normally my mother would take care of me at home, but this time was different. Nothing she tried worked, and it became apparent to her very quickly that I was in serious need of medical attention. All I really remember about the whole ordeal is blurred shapes and dulled colors, and all the sounds were muffled as if they were coming from far away. My entire body hurt and I remember this intense, burning heat inside me, not just inside my body but inside my mind, as if someone had lit a fire within me and I was being burned alive from the inside. Besides the heat the only other thing I remember was the muffled sound of many people yelling, but my mother told me later that is was just the doctors, and I believed her, after all what’s odd about a doctor yelling orders in an emergency right?

I didn’t begin to put all the pieces together until almost a year later when I begged her to take me to the park. She was very reluctant and came up with just about every excuse in the book to put it off; she had to finish some work, it was getting too late, I didn’t put my toys away, the list went on and on but eventually she ran out of excuses and caved to my pleas. At first I was just so ecstatic to be outside that I didn’t notice the looks right away. I was in a daze of wonder at finally being able to look around this town I had lived in for years but never seen. I marveled at the brightly colored buildings and gardens, the wonderful smells drifting through the air from Sugar Cube Corner that made my stomach growl as we passed, and the generally upbeat and happy atmosphere surrounding the town that just made me want to smile and never stop.

I was so engrossed with the town itself that by the time I noticed all the ponies around me, we had walked almost two blocks. At first I was a bit surprised there were so many in a town this size, and they all looked so different from my mother, the only pony I had ever really known. Each one was a different color and their manes were just as diverse, I was a bit overwhelmed by it all,  but as we walked on, it seemed appropriate, comfortable and cozy; there were enough ponies that the town didn’t feel small or empty, but not enough that you felt it was crowded. It was a nice feeling, like everyone was one big family, or at least that’s what I thought, until I noticed the expressions on their faces.

As we walked through town everyone was stopping in their tracks and staring at me intently, as if they had never seen a child with his mother before, but the looks on their faces told a different story. A few just looked curious, as if I was some strange and rare oddity they found interesting, but far more wore looks ranging from shock, to disgust, to anger, and even fear as they froze, ran, or hastily shut doors and window. I didn’t understand what was going on at first, how could I, I was so inexperienced with the world that, for a little while, I just found it odd.

As we drew nearer to the park I started to drift toward some of them out of curiosity. I had just started to drift away from my mother, heading for a group of ponies that had all gasped and ran away, wide eyed in shock and fear, when I felt the familiar feeling of her magic around me, pulling me back to her side. I looked up at her questioningly, slightly confused by the act, and as was my nature, I gave voice to these thoughts, “What’s wrong dask? I just wanted to ask them why they ran...” I called her dask a lot, ever since she told me that was the word for ‘mother’ in my fathers tongue; I saw it as a bit of revenge for naming me Jikael. She didn't respond however, nor would she meet my gaze. She just kept staring straight ahead with her jaw tightly clenched, biting the edge of her lip as she held something in. I was still naive then, so much so that I never thought /I/ could be the reason for their looks. My naivety was soon to come to an end though, as the pieces fell into place when we reached the park.

When I looked out upon the beautiful little park, all thoughts of the strange looks and actions I had seen, left my mind. My wings fluttered in joy as I looked around at all the other foals my own age, but what really put a smile on my face were the few pegasi zipping around above us. I looked up at my mother with pleading puppy eyes, trying to will her to say yes. “Momma can I go play with the others? Pleeeeeease! I promise to stay in sight!” I was practically hopping with anticipation, barely even registering the look of sadness and pity in my mothers eyes as she answered me.

“...Yes... just come get me if..." Her voice caught in her throat for a moment before she forced herself to go on. "if anything happens, alright?”

I nodded with enthusiasm, barely even listening after the word ‘yes’. “I promise momma! Thank you!”

I was off in a flash, spreading my wings and taking to the sky, awkward in my flight from being cooped up in a house all my life. As I made my way over to the small group of racing pegasi foals, a broad and joyous smile crept over my face. I was finally going to have someone to play with other than my mother, I was finally going to make some friends, I was finally going to stop being so alone!

As I drew closer, intercepting their flight path, they drew up short, their eyes wide with surprise and fear, mirroring the looks I had been seeing all day. One of them, a filly, gave a small eep and fled the moment the shock wore off, the other filly and the colt following quickly behind her with cries of 'Wait for me!' and 'What /is/ that thing!'

I hung there in the air, watching them flee from me just as all the others had done, looking around myself in vain for the object of their fear, the smile on my face cracking and falling away for a moment as my first small taste of reality sunk in. To my credit, and that of my mother and her eternally cheery disposition, I shook it off quickly and chalked it up to a coincidence, donning my smile once again, although maybe not quite as wide, and looking around for other children to play with.

It was a beautiful day as I may have mentioned, so there were plenty of families around the park enjoying it. From my high vantage point I spotted two earth ponies playing on a seesaw under the watchful eye of their father and decided to fly down and say hello. I landed a few yards away and happily started walking up to them, my mouth already starting to form a hello when suddenly their father was there, grabbing them both off the seesaw and pushing them behind him, putting himself between me and them. I will never forget the look in his brown eyes, slightly scared, but filled with a protective, defiant fire that drilled into me and dared me to come any closer to his children. I shrank back under that gaze, instinctively making myself small and backing away in fear of the stallion.

I turned and slinked away from them, only stopping once several rows of bushes were between me and those eyes. I sat there in the shade amidst the foliage for a while, to numb from the shock of all my expectations shattering around me to feel anything at that point. I guess it was almost an hour before I even moved, finally convincing myself that it was all just a coincidence, telling myself that it must be my horns, that they must not like them, deciding that unicorns would play with me, because unicorns had horns and they were my mother’s people so they /must/ be nice. I know I was grasping at straws but I would have latched onto anything at that point to keep it together.

I emerged from the bushes timidly, looking around for any unicorns and keeping an eye out for anyone else who might not like my horns; a ridiculous conclusion I know, but at the time I was willing to believe anything but the truth. I finally spotted two unicorns, a filly and her mother, sitting on a blanket eating lunch next to the stone fountain at the center of the park. I slowly made my way over to them, moving uncertainly as thoughts of my previous encounters filled my mind with trepidation, but nonetheless I moved forward, driven on by the last flickers of hope.

I was a dozen feet or so away from the pair when the filly finally noticed me, her eyes fixing on me and widening in curiosity and surprise. The mare had not seen me yet as I came up behind her, hoping to gain the advantage and be able to say hello for a change.

The filly however had other plans and she promptly looked straight at her mother as she pointed at me. “Mommy, why does that pony have claws?”

Her mother stared at her for a moment then began to giggle amusedly at her question before she turned around to see what the filly could possibly be looking at “Whatever are you talking about dear? Ponies don’t have cl....” She stopped mid sentence as her eyes locked on me, growing wide in shock. Her mouth hung open for a moment, trying to form words but failing, her brain locked in a state of disbelief. We all stood there in total silence for what seemed like forever, and even the birds and crickets seemed to grow quiet.

The tense silence lasted only a few moments however, before it shattered like cheap glass hitting the floor, as the mare let out an ear piercing scream that sent shivers down my spine. Before I could say a word the unicorn was on her feet and turned to face me, planting herself squarely between me and her foal. I raised a hand as I opened my mouth to try and speak to the frightened mare and calm her down, but I hesitated as her horn began to glow bright. In my moment of hesitation the unicorn took the opportunity to propel a plate at me.

The ceramic dish smashed against my head with an incredible force, knocking me aside and straight into the edge of the stone fountain. My head reeled as the world spun around me, and it was all I could do to keep my lunch down. The unicorn took this opportunity to grab her foal and make a run for it, their hooves trampling the food and dishes as they beat a hasty retreat back toward the center of town.

My world began to slowly stop spinning as I watched the two leave, but my head continued to pound away like a drum. I sat up from my crumpled position on the ground, only to be greeted by a sharp pain in my side where the fountain had hit me, causing me to gasp and grip the edge of the fountain for support. I sat like that for a bit as I recovered from the ordeal, catching my breath and letting the pain ease off until it was manageable. As the pain lessened so did the pounding in my head, allowing me to think clearly once again, but with clear thought came a new kind of pain.

My grip on the fountain tightened and I clenched my jaws as I fought to hold it together. My mind began to race wildly ‘Why is everyone being so mean? Why do they all hate me? Why is everyone running from me? Is there something wrong with me?’ As that last thought shot through my mind, I saw my reflection in the waters of the fountain, out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look into the fountain as the ripples in the water flowed across my reflection, my eyes darting over its surface as I studied myself.

My face was like that of an average ponies, but slightly longer, as my jaws extended outward, giving me a larger bite than most. My teeth were not flat like a ponies, but neither were they sharp; they were slightly rounded, somewhere in-between. My tongue was not broad and flat like most ponies, but long and narrow instead, like a lizards, except my tongue was not forked. I had a dark green coat that was longer and thicker than most ponies, and slightly shaggy, as if I was something wild and untamed. My tail is where the similarities ended however, as it was not of a different color as most ponies were. My tail was long and slender, finely muscled, and covered with the same kind of hair as my coat which made me a nearly uniform dark green. My legs were just a bit shorter than the average pony, and at the end of them were black hooves, each with three fissures that separated them into four pointed segments. Technically they were not claws, and indeed were not even sharp, but I understood how the foal could have made the mistake. I didn’t really have ears to speak of, or a proper horn for that matter. Instead I had six black horns, two on the top of my head, and two on each side. They weren't even proper horns really, as they were shorter than any unicorn horn and were positioned more to the back of my head, flaring out closer to my neck. Instead of a mane I had short black spines running down from the base of my head to my tail. On my back were a pair of folded wings, black and leathery like a bats. My most striking feature however, were my eyes. They were a bright emerald green color, with these little flecks that would catch the light and make them glitter like jewels, and they had a tendency to flash and flicker with a dancing inner light depending on my feelings. My black reptilian-like pupils would pick up on them too, narrowing to thin slits when I got agitated or emotional.

My mother always said I reminded her of dad, that she could see him whenever she looked at me. I could always tell when she did because her eyes would lose focus and she would get this little smile as she remembered my father... But all I saw in the fountain was me, a sad and bleeding pony who had lost his will and his hope. I felt like something inside of me was slowly breaking, like a window that cracks little by little until it can take no more and finally shatters. I was hurt and confused and angry, but more than anything else I was sad. Sad my hopes had been dashed, sad I was hated by everyone, and sad that I was all alone again.

The pain and sadness was overwhelming me and I just wanted to curl up and cry. I could feel the tears brimming at the edge of my eyes, and as I felt a warmth roll down my face, I heard a small splat, like a heavy drop of water hitting stone. I thought I had finally given up and started crying. But when I looked down into the water again, I didn’t see tears running down my face. Instead, a small line of crimson blood ran from my forehead, down between my eyes to my chin where it began building into another droplet. As the drop of blood fell and hit the water, it dissipated and swirled, spreading faint wisps of red across my reflected face before disappearing completely.

Seeing that blood running down my face broke whatever little piece of me that was still holding on. The tears I had been fighting back finally spilled forth and began to run freely down my cheeks as I wept, lost in my sorrow, oblivious to the world and the faint shouts in the distance.


Ch 3: A Light In The Darkness


The distant shouts grew closer as I cried, turning from unintelligible noise into distinct voices raised in agitation and anger. I looked up through puffy eyes toward the direction of the commotion. My ears, though nothing but two holes in my head, could hear very well and I was able to make out fragments of the shouting, but what I heard made me tremble and start to back away. ‘...have to get rid of it...’ ‘...dangerous...’ ‘...hurt our children...’ ‘...may have to kill it...’ I began to shake uncontrollably, crouching down and making myself small as I backed away, tears still glistening on my face, but the sorrow now replaced with fear.