Chương 14: Horse Guy Energy (Yay)

Andy spent the first three days of his new life falling over. Not continuously. He fell over in discrete, individual incidents, each one a separate and humiliating experience of their own. By the end of his third day he had compiled an internal blooper reel that would have made a slapstick choreographer weep. First, there was the Kick Stop. (Front legs stop, back legs don't, face meets ground, horn stabs dirt.) The Sloppy Ride (All four feet stop on wet moss, body goes sideways, dignity goes with it) The Overcorrection (lean too far right, correct too far left, repeat until horizontal), and finally the Charlie Horse. The last one was his personal nemesis. Everything was going well, he'd found a good rhythm, he was balanced, enjoying himself and then for no discernable reason his leg would seize and buckle and deposit him onto his side like a medium sized, horned, faintly glowing sack of incompetence.

His proprioception (ability to sense himself and know where his body existed in space) was shot. His internal body mapping was calibrated for a mouse sized frog-like creature and was now being asked to manage a small dog-size almost-horse. And so his legs received instructions for a body that no longer existed. They responded incorrectly and Andy wound up, once again, in the mud. His brain knew how to walk. But the brain and the execution were connected by a new nervous system that seemed to still be laying cable.

The result looked like Bambi on ice.

"I am a horse. Well almost." Andy thought, lying on his side in a patch of clover with his three toed-hooves in the air.

"I am a horse in the same way that a tricycle is a motorcycle. The base concept is there, but a lot of upgrades are needed." [XP: 3/3000] Three. Three XP in three days. The economy of being a proto-ungulate was terrible. Insects, if he managed to catch them, yielded no meaningful XP. (It took ten just to earn one XP and that was frankly insulting), and the larger prey were far faster than him, or bigger than him, and in most cases– both.

Andy's current combat abilities could be summarized as "I can headbutt things, if I don't fall over first." The headbutting was, admittedly, still more effective than it deserved to be considering he'd lost all of his bonuses. His neck now was thicker, the muscles denser, and when he connected his horn with a target the impact was substantial. The problem was that most of those targets were tree trunks, rocks and the ground. His horn too, appeared to be harder than in any previous form.

It was dense and thick with life magic. The golden green glow pulsed brighter on impact as though the horn got excited when he thrust it into things. He was going to do his best to not turn that into a joke. The creature who had been watching him hadn't made another appearance in these three days either. Andy was beginning to wonder if the System wasn't gaslighting him and if he was truly imagining things. On the morning of the fourth day his legs finally figured it out.

Andy woke in the shallow depression he'd scraped out beneath a fallen log(barely wide enough for his body and certainly not wide enough for his horn's ego) and stood up. He stood up smoothly and without thought. His legs extended, found their balance and then he was simply upright. A quiet unmarked transition from conscious to unconscious capability. This wasn't something he earned experience for but it was an achievement that, to him, mattered far more than others he did.

He walked out from under the log, also without thinking about it. His natural gait pattern clicked into place suddenly and without effort. Andy walked across the forest floor without wobbling, lurching or thinking about his feet at all. He had become so excited about this that he'd developed a little dance in the middle of his grove. He'd been swimming for the vast majority of his life and now, he was walking. He was one step (pun intended) closer to being a being worth recognition.

He walked faster, which then became a trot. It was exhilarating. Andy's body rose and fell with each stride in a rhythmic smooth pattern that his brain was screaming about. This. This is what being alive feels like. Once he'd gotten trotting down he'd decided that wasn't good enough. His muscles ached to be set free. He could feel it in his bones. I'm so close to freedom. Andy accelerated. His legs shifted from trot to a canter. Not quite a gallop but getting closer.

The world blurred at the edges, and wind ran through Andy's fur, tickling and cooling him down. Trees blurred. Beneath the three toed hooves the ground became a continuous ribbon of various greens and browns. He could taste it. The hunger. The excitement. [GALLOP: INITIATED] [NOTE: GAIT COORDINATION IMPROVING. CURRENT EFFICIENCY: 43%. OPTIMAL EFFICIENCY REQUIRES PRACTICE.] Forty three percent. He was running at less than half efficiency and it still felt phenomenal.

It was faster than any running he'd done in any body. He ran. Ahead of him the forest opened, trees spacing wider, the canopy thinning to dapple the forest floor in broad warm moving shapes. Andy ran through the light and shadow his claw hooves, finding purchase and relishing in the temperature difference of the dirt and roots beneath his toes. As he ran, the horn on his forehead caught the sunlight and scattered it into golden-green fragments that trailed behind like a comet's tail.

Life magic pulsed warmer and brighter, which fed energy back into his sore and tired muscles. He had a stamina bar and it was depleting far more slowly than it should have because the horn was extending his performance. The horn was literally helping him to last longer. The jokes wrote themselves and Andy continued to lean into the gag. His fur caught the wind, streamed backwards and he thought, I am going to cry. I am going to cry because this is the first thing I've loved doing in this life.

I'm horse-adjacent and I'm running through an immaculate and gorgeous forest and it's so fulfilling. [XP: +5 (SPEED TRIAL: FIRST GALLOP)] [XP: +3 (TERRAIN NAVIGATION: FOREST)] [XP: 11/3000] Speed trials. He was getting XP from running. An incentive structure as clear as the note about the horn's compatibility. Run you idiot. You're a horse. Run. That's exactly what he did. He ran until his stamina bottomed out.

He covered an insane amount of distance, far further than anything he'd traveled (aside from with a falcon's help) as a frog. And when he ran out of stamina he lay down panting, sides heaving, legs trembling and aching with that pleasant happy exhaustion muscles get after a good workout. He had a body that ran, that ate distance for breakfast and asked for seconds. A body that, for the first time since he'd died on that crosswalk in another world, felt like he was good at something.

Even at forty-three percent efficiency this was the most physically competent thing he'd done.

"I get it now," He projected to no one "I understand why horses run. Not because they're scared, not because they're chasing something. Because the body wants to run the way lungs want to breathe. It's not an activity, or a hobby, it's a part of their core make up. He decided at that moment he was going to run every day. He would get his efficiency to one hundred percent and find and complete as many speed trials as he could. He would become one amazing horse.

"The proto-ungulate," he narrated (because his nature documentary inner monologue still showed no signs of stopping), "having mastered the rudimentary mechanics of quadrupedal locomotion, has discovered the joy of speed. Not the elevated heart rate, the general air of self-satisfaction. The way it lies on its back without a care in the world. Also take notes of the persistent cranial erection that appears to be throbbing with pleasure after enhancing the physical performance.

The ungulate is not actively examining the implications of one's own horn making it harder, better, faster, stronger. Some metaphors are too much. Even for me." [STAMINA REGENERATION: IN PROGRESS. 21%] He rested there, watching the clouds through the canopy, enjoying the sounds of the wind rustling through the trees. The symphony of insects and birds in every direction. And he dozed on and off waiting for his muscles to heal and his stamina to regenerate. [ENHANCED SENSES: CALIBRATING. CURRENT ACUITY: 67% OF SPECIES POTENTIAL.] Six Seven. Really? I thought we'd get through a whole book without one of those references. Oh wait, nevermind, we're two short. Moving on. He took in the fifty shades of green, each leaf a subtle difference in hue that his color receptors distinguished. His ears rotated independently picking up movement from 360 degrees. The olfactory senses were tracking- grade and he could even follow chemical signatures in the forest like invisible trails painted in the air.

What would it be like, if I got Enhanced Senses to 100%? He explored the area walking smoothly along a game trail that his nose told him led to water. The stream was small, clear and cold. Andy drank from it, relishing in the cool fresh water. Water even tasted better. He was getting attached. This body ran, it could cover distance. It had room for growth and so his legs would get stronger every day, his lungs more capable of sustained effort, and his glowing horn a little harder.

He was falling in love with his own body which was either the healthiest self image he'd ever had or the most narcissistic. This body was going somewhere, and he was going to enjoy the ride. Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. [NEW MECHANIC: HERD DYNAMICS] [UNGULATE-TYPE ORGANISMS RECEIVE SOCIAL XP BONUSES WHEN PARTIED WITH OTHER ORGANISMS.] [PROXIMITY REQUIREMENTS: WITHIN 50 METERS. MINIMUM GROUP SIZE: 2.] [HERD BOND LEVELS: ACQUAINTANCE → COMPANION → HERD → BONDED HERD.] [CURRENT HERD STATUS: NONE. NO COMPATIBLE ORGANISMS DETECTED WITHIN RANGE.] [SOCIAL XP BONUS: INACTIVE.] Andy wrinkled his nose at the notification. And there it was the familiar disappointment of a man whose build was optimized for multiplayer, who was playing an MMO and was playing solo. A social XP bonus. Requiring proximity to other organisms. Of which there were none nearby that he was aware of. He was a herd animal with no herd.

In the grand tradition of The System giving him abilities and mechanics he couldn't use (sexual reproduction, thermal tolerance, thought projection, toxic skin) the line between cosmic joke and cruelty was getting harder and harder to distinguish.

"A herd bonus," he projected to no one again. If he had the ability he might as well use it, "I am the only sapient creature that I've come across(other than that colony whom I only met briefly.) I need a herd because I'm an almost-horse the size of a corgi with a glowing horn and three-toed hoof claws and the System wants me to find friends. Where? Is there a horse store nearby? Equine tinder? Swipe right for the badger-faced, almost horse with a glowing horn.

My profile would say, loves long walks in the woods, will be your own personal night light, passively increases stamina and always horny. Who would match with that? Who would want to befriend this?" The System chose this moment to keep its mouth closed. Not only was that the correct decision, but it was also the decision the System would have made anyway. It never responded when Andy needed to vent.

Andy suspected that the System chose not to respond because it was not supposed to have an opinion on Andy but that it really wanted to. The loneliness landed differently as a horse. As a frog, solitude worked. He didn't have to share his XP that way. As a horse it was physical. Being a herd animal was written into his DNA. His body wanted company and had a persistent urge to look over his shoulder for herd members that did not exist.

It wasn't just conversation, or being known although Andy wanted both of those things, very badly. This was the deeper social need of an animal: proximity, warmth, reassurance that the group is here and you won't be forgotten. To be a part of something. He was designed for companionship and the absence of it made his chest ache. Andy sighed, "Let's add it to the list, Things Andy Snodgrass needs: a herd, hands, a date, A Costco membership, and a clear answer from the System about anything. Progress report: none.

The horn is the only thing that never lets me down. The horn pulsed warmly on his forehead, probably a coincidence but maybe the kind of ambiguity the System specialized in. He spent the rest of the morning exploring his new range(It was quite enormous compared to his previous iterations), mapping water sources with his nose, and identifying game trails by scent and cataloguing the forests inhabitants with the attention of someone who needed a lot more experience and was unsure of the quickest way to achieve that.

The forest had a very diverse population. Deer-like creatures, which were slender quadrupeds quite a bit taller than Andy, and faster than him as well. Rodent-shaped and sized things that ranged from maybe-bunny to maybe-mouse each froze when his hooves passed near them, their stress hormones sharp enough for him to literally smell their fear. It was useful, but quite unsettling. It also made him sneeze. And then there were the predators. His nose read their territorial scent-markings like graffiti on a wall.

This area is danger. Something that lives here eats meat, and you look like a snack. Andy mapped these especially with careful attention as he was a former-hunter himself he knew that entering a predator's territory made him fair game. [XP: +20 (TERRAIN NAVIGATION: STREAM)] [XP: +20 (EXPLORATION: NEW TERRITORY)] [XP: 51/3000] Fifty One. The XP was trickling in at a rate that made his time as a frog feel like a gold rush.

The three thousand point goal was a mountain and Andy, sweet summer child, Andy was trying to dig it out–with a spoon. But if Andy had learned nothing else from his time as a single-cell, he'd learned patience. The XP would come. He found the speed trials by accident. Or rather, the System, in a rare helpful moment found them for him. Maybe the System was bored, maybe it was invested in Andy's growth, or maybe he felt bad for Andy.

But no matter the motivation the System sent Andy a hint like a personal trainer who communicated exclusively through post-it notes and refused to answer questions. The first trial was a straight sketch of clear ground between two ridgelines, packed flat. It was by Andy's best guess three hundred times his body length. He entered at one end, his hooves hit the soil and then the notification appeared: [SPEED TRIAL DETECTED: STRAIGHT SPRINT] [COMPLETE IN UNDER 45 SECONDS FOR XP BONUS] [BEGIN? Y/N]"Yes," Andy thought and leaned into the acceleration. His gallop was better now. He'd found a rhythm within three strides and his speed continued to grow through each body length of forward advancement. The wind blew his fur back and the ground blurred beneath him. Pure joy filled Andy's being as his body hit speed and was performing at its current most optimal ability. Andy ran and three hundred body lengths vanished beneath him.

Wind cut his eyes, his horn trailed green-gold light His hooves struck the packed earth like a drumbeat. Tha-thump Tha-thump Tha-thump. When the notification chimed Andy was breathing hard and grinning, which in his current form was pulling his lips back and bearing his teeth in an expression that would have alarmed anyone that didn't understand Andy's current emotional register. [SPEED TRIAL: STRAIGHT SPRINT - COMPLETE] [TIME: 38. 4 SECONDS] [XP: +20 (SPEED TRIAL BONUS)] [GALLOP EFFICIENCY: 51%] Fifty-one percent.

More horse than not-horse. Twenty XP for the speed trial was the biggest single payout since becoming this almost-horse, and the implication was clear: the System wanted him training his gallop the way he had trained his combat in previous tiers.

"Again," Andy thought, and turned around and ran the corridor back the other way. [SPEED TRIAL: STRAIGHT SPRINT - COMPLETE] [TIME: 36. 1 SECONDS] [XP: +20 (SPEED TRIAL BONUS)] [GALLOP EFFICIENCY: 54%] He ran it eight more times before his stamina had completely diminished and his legs protested his weight. Each pass shaved seconds off of his time and added to his proficiency. Andy was finally doing something he was good at, not existing, not absorbing or dividing.

This was the competence he felt after a surgery or a difficult pet at the clinic. Unfortunately the XP diminished exponentially after the first two runs, it was still a lot more progress than he'd expected though. [XP: 175/3000] [GALLOP EFFICIENCY: 62%] Now he was getting somewhere. He was five almost six percent of the way through this tier. Andy was going to find and grind these trials the way he'd had a very large kill count as a frog.

He had developed patient determination and the instant gratification of numbers going up was giving him just enough motivation to avoid thinking about how far he still had to go. He'd write a gallant chapter he thought, referencing his brain autobiography. And this chapter I'll call How I outran loneliness. It would be a great one, one that he would recount at parties. Assuming that he ever got to a party. Or that he developed the social prerequisites for party attendance.

He was so absorbed in thinking about what abilities may come from attending parties that he almost missed a second trial. This trial was an obstacle course through the forest requiring turns and jumps over fallen logs. He'd also discovered a third which turned out to be a downhill sprint along a ridge, which was terrifying and exhilarating. He ran all three again and again, his body slowly learning with each repetition.

He was so absorbed in getting better that he missed the part where something in the forest had been watching him. It wasn't until the seventh pass through the second course when his [HORN SONG] activated alerting him to the change. His ears swiveled as he tuned in to the "is anything going to eat me" sounds of the forest. There was an absence of sound in a specific direction. A gap; a pocket where insects weren't buzzing and birds weren't singing.

This was the sound of a predator, because a predator was quiet and the things near them were even quieter. He stopped at the end of his run, sides heaving, stamina bar low, and turned both ears toward the gap. There, in the treeline, northwest and about thirty to forty body lengths away. Something was sitting there, between the shadows of two moss-covered trunks His eyes resolved the shadows. It appeared to be a russet brown, fur, compact body, actually about the same size as he was.

Its ears pointed forward above a narrow muzzle. And it wasn't hunting him, just… watching. A fox. This fox's golden-amber eyes were trained on him with an unmistakable, knowing and amused expression. The eyes were too smart. They understood and found him entertaining. Andy had seen animals in this world. They saw food, danger, shelter, mate. This fox was looking at Andy and saw something else entirely. If he didn't know any better he'd say it was evaluating him.

Maybe even forming opinions more sophisticated than any animal had a right to. Or–maybe he was imagining it. So, he stood very still. His horn glowed and sang softly in the quiet of the forest. The fox and the not-horse stared at each other and the moment seemed to stretch across the gap between species. He was sure, this was another intelligent being. Stuck in a body that didn't quite fit. It was the most intense eye-contact he'd made with anyone. The fox tilted its head. A deliberate, communicative tilt.

In the universal language of facial expressions it seemed to say, "Well you're an interesting one, aren't you?" Andy's brain produced and projected a response before he could evaluate it.

"You have no idea." The fox blinked. Then it stretched slowly and deliberately. It stood, shook itself and walked back into the shadows with easy confidence. It didn't look back.

"Hey. Wait." Andy projected. Emotion bubbling out from his core in desperate sobs. Instead of following it, he watched the space where the fox had been. That was not a fox–or rather that was not only a fox. He knew this in his core. His horn was singing a sad song, because that was the closest Andy had come to anyone like him, in a very very long time. But, the fox was gone. The forest's ambient noise returned, filling the gap of the predator's silence. Andy was once again, alone.

At the end of his obstacle course, he stood long after the shadows stretched and dusk began to fall. He hadn't even bothered to check or close his XP notifications. In his mind all he could see were those knowing golden-amber eyes. They'd seen him, not an almost-horse, they'd seen Andy, the person inside. Finally, he moved to return to his burrow.

"A mysterious intelligent fox watches the ungulate with interest." He narrated.

"The ungulate will investigate, he will hold back his horn on further interactions. First impressions matter, and 'singing, glowing, phallic forehead,' is not ideal for making friends" Almost as if to spite him the horn glowed brighter, in the afternoon light. The forest was alive around him and full of potential. The future was what he was running toward. Where he could be seen, where he could be alive, and fast and strong and magical.

[XP: 201/3000] [GALLOP EFFICIENCY: 62%] [HERD STATUS: NONE] The herd status stung but he pushed it down. He had other things on his mind. His gallop efficiency for one, soothed his aching heart. He allowed self-improvement to take the place of loneliness, and perhaps, that's what he was best at–he just wasn't ready to admit it yet. He'd steeled himself. Tomorrow, he would run faster. Tomorrow he would look for the fox. Tomorrow was going to be the best day ever. He felt it in his heart.

The fox was a question that burned in his memory, and Andy fell asleep under his log. His horn was tucked against his foreleg, rear legs folded beneath him. He dreamt of running. Just running, the horn cutting the air like a compass needle pointing north. Here, there were no bills, no endless laundry, no endless 'what should I make for dinners'. Here, there was only freedom. The fox was in his dream too. A mysterious shadow watching from the trees. Golden-amber eyes in the shadows.