Someone Came WIth Her, Part 9.5

“I suppose you can leave,” she continues, “but you be careful, alright?  Don't go anywhere alone.  And no heavy liftin', no runnin', no swimmin', no wrestlin', no horseplay, no muleplay, no--”

“I'll take it easy,” you assure her as you awkwardly climb off the bed.  “I don't have a whole lot planned, anyway.”

You look back at Sharp Cider, suddenly feeling ashamed. "Thank you," you say. "Without you and Tumbleweed, I'm not sure I would've..."

She smiles softly. "You're welcome, Miss Sonora."

You blush at the title, but by now its sting is wearing off. If things go as you hope today, you won't have to put up with much longer anyway.

If. Almost subconsciously, you reach out with a foreleg and knock on wood before you step outside. In a world with a sadistic wizard on the loose, it doesn't seem all that unreasonable to indulge your superstitious side.

As soon as you're outside, the sun makes you feel like a clay pot in a kiln.  It doesn't help that you've been gifted with a fur coat that you can't take off.  Just standing out in the sun for a few seconds makes you wonder how you survived yesterday's events.

Gingerly you step off the porch and on to the hot, dusty street.  You clench your teeth, expecting to experience something like a barefoot walk through Death Valley.  You have the mental image of your fluffy white hooves blackening from the heat like...well, marshmallows. That joke doesn't seem particularly funny anymore.

But when your hoof touches the ground, all you feel is a vague sensation of warmth. You feel the blistering heat rising from the gravel, but it's only a minor discomfort.

Impressive. It seems your hooves are either excellent insulators or they just don't have enough nerves to tell you to get the hell off. As much as you want to have hands and feet again, you have to admit there's a few perks to having hooves.

You canter on, feeling disoriented as you watch the citizens of Appleloosa happily trot about.  A breeze gusts through the town, cooling you but also reminding you of your utter lack of clothing.  You freeze, suddenly feeling like you're in one of those horrible nightmares where you show up to your job au naturale.

Your fear grows as you notice you're getting a few glances that border on stares.  You cringe, expecting cat-calls at any second.

“Mornin', miss!”  a rotund stallion says as he trots up to you.  “You enjoyin' your stay in Appleloosa?”

Alright, chastity shields up.