When you're drowning, you don't say 'I would be incredibly pleased if someone would have the foresight to notice me drowning and come and help me,' you just scream. – John Lennon

Chapter 1: This Isn't Where I Parked my Car

"This is incredible." Veronica murmured. Gingerly, she turned the pages of a hand illustrated edition of Peter and Wendy by J.M. Barrie. She was seated across from Alice, the owner of the bookstore, at the help desk. Alice had been watching her admiration of the book with a kindred sense of amusement from behind thick glasses.

"Attention customers, the time is now 10:50PM. The store will be closing in ten minutes. Please bring any items you wish to purchase to the front."

A voice came over the loud speaker in the bookstore rattling Veronica out of the world of Wendy Darling and her brothers and back to reality.

"Consider it a thank you gift," Alice said. Already anticipating an argument from the younger woman, she held up her wrinkled hands to cut her off. "Before you argue, keep in mind that if you hadn't stepped up to help with the store, at best I would have had to close for a few months or hire someone else to manage who would have wanted a lot more money than what you were willing to do it for. Not to mention looking after Horace. Not something an old lady wants to have to worry about when she's going in for surgery."

At the sound of his name, Veronica could hear Horace, Alice's corgi, stir from behind the counter. His nails clicked on the wood floor as he came around to say hello. Veronica and Alice laughed.

"Hey, boy." Veronica scratched around his ears till he shook his head.

She accepted the book and packed up. "Thanks."

Alice nodded, "See you soon, dear."

Out the door, the cold air immediately buffeted her. The February draft made her departure from her sanctuary all the more bitter. The store was a warm haven in the city, decorated in gentle earth tones and always smelling of the musk of pages.

Veronica loved books. When the store had opened just around the corner from her apartment a few years ago, she had been delighted. More often than not, she was prone to stop in on her way home from work.

The walk was quick but Veronica's teeth were still chattering by the time she got through the front door of the apartment complex. Mercifully she was coming in behind one of her neighbors and didn't have to fumble with her keys until she got to her own door.

Inside, she could hear the muted sound of the television coming from the living room. Tina, her roommate, looked up as she padded in, her thick socks shielding her feet from the cool floor. She smiled, "Hey." The tabby cat that had been half-dozing on her lap leapt down and twined himself between Veronica's legs and mewled frantically.

Veronica snorted. "Did you feed him?"

Tina just arched her eyebrows as if to say, what do you think?

Shaking her head, Veronica leaned down to scratch him under the chin. "Silly." Plopping down next to her friend on the futon sofa, she looked at the TV. "Anything good?"

"Lord of the Rings marathon." Tina used her foot to nudge a bowl of popcorn on the table closer to Veronica. "The Return of the King just started."

Veronica grabbed a handful and watched the credits roll up. The women and cat were both asleep before the beacons of Gondor were even lit.

The moment her eyes opened Veronica knew something was awfully wrong. For one she could perfectly perceive what was to her left and right following the train of vision just past her shoulders. The area immediately in front of her however, she could not fix her gaze on.

Oh my god, I'm having a stroke, she thought to herself, quickly followed by, is it possible to have a stroke at 30?!

This discovery led to a dreaded second. She was not in bed. She was certainly not in her apartment. She was outside. Veronica felt cold sweat break across her forehead.

Veronica blinked her eyes a few times, hoping to readjust her vision. It was when she tried to bring her hands up rub her eyes that the reason behind her predicament became clear. A simple motion that was once second nature proved impossible. Her arms refused to bend.

Not arms, she corrected herself looking down, legs.

Looking down, in place of her arms, she beheld the strong and sure limbs of a horse…or possibly a donkey.

Now there's adding insult to injury, she thought wryly. Kidnap me out of my apartment, drop in the middle of nowhere, and turn me into an ass.

Then again she'd never seen a white donkey. And from what she'd seen of her legs, that was the main coloring.

Speaking of the middle of nowhere. Veronica trained a keener eye on her surroundings. She was in the midst of some sort of plain. Tall stalks of green, lush grass dominated the landscape. The grass was in constant movement, chased to and fro by a strong wind that cut across the field. The combination of the expanse of the field and the wave of the grass was oddly reminiscent of a lake or sea. If the grass was like a lake then the shore it crashed against were the two mountain ranges off in the distance. Actually the landscape was incredibly similar to pictures she'd seen in advertisements on the bus urging her to go visit Montana.

However, it was nothing like she'd ever experienced. Open spaces like this were outside her realm of experience. She was city born and bred.

Must be a dream, she thought, a strange and beautiful dream…

The horse aspect was an interesting element. Even as a kid she'd never gone through the "I wanna pony" phase. Really her only interaction with horses was when she saw the carriage drivers downtown offering rides to the tourists. They were pretty if a little smelly.

The next time the wind blew across the grass, she took note of a familiar sound it carried to her—running water.

Hmm, might as well look around.

Getting up proved to be a new and unusual experience. Veronica began by slowly easing up onto her left foreleg followed by the right. She got her hind legs beneath her and gently rose up. On all fours, she could feel the strength and power in her body.

Well, this is…neat. Veronica took a few tentative steps until her body found the natural rhythm.

Veronica turned into the wind, towards where she'd heard the source of the water. She started at a walk, still adjusting to the unfamiliar gait. She took to it quickly, the 1-2-3-4 rhythm becoming easier with each step. Before long she was flying. Okay, not literally flying but for those moments when she felt all four limbs leave the ground, she certainly imagined she was. It was one of the most exhilarating things she had ever felt.

The scenery was immutable as she ran. The land just went on and on and on. She felt small.

The only difference she noted was the grass seemed a might fresher as she approached and finally reached the source of the water. The water, as it turned out, was a wide and fast flowing river. The sound of the current filled her ears. She stood at the edge for several moments, letting the spray kiss her legs.

She followed the river as it flowed downstream. She enjoyed the feeling of the wind playing with her hair, the grass caressing her sides, and the hum of the water.

However, after about an hour, the tranquility of the scene was becoming wasted on her. Veronica was having doubts she was in dreamland. Usually as she dreamed, Veronica remembered there being skips in time or odd transitions from one location to the next. Dreams were usually such a fragmented experience. But this…whatever it was, was proving to be disturbingly constant.

This train of thought led to disconcerting questions. If she wasn't dreaming then where was she and how did she get here? How could she become human again? How would she get home? With these thoughts trailing through her mind, Veronica was dimly aware that she had flattened her ears and was tucking her tail. If this is a dream, I'd like to wake up now.

What had her dad told her when she was a kid about how to wake up from a dream? Pinch herself?

No genius, that's to determine if you are dreaming and in case you hadn't noticed, you're short a few digits.

Think, Veronica.

After a moment of concentration the memory surfaced.

She was six years old again, in bed, holding an oversized glass of water between two small hands. Her da sat beside her, a kind if sleepy smile on his face. He was faintly illuminated by her Little Mermaid night-light. Smiling down at her, he said, "Do you want to know what the trick is for when you're having a bad a dream?"

She nodded eagerly, in awe of any wisdom he might impart in the way only a child could be.

"Dreams are kingdoms we build. They are built on our memories, wishes, and sometimes fears. But we are the architects. If you don't like your dream than stop engaging in it. It only exists as long as we give it shape. Once you take your attention…or will from it, it disappears."

Veronica took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. She strove to ignore the feeling of the grass against her flanks or the wind playing with her mane. Ignoring the sounds of the swaying grass, she waited to hear the sounds of the city—an ambulance blaring past her window, a neighbor out with an excited dog, or even the cooing of pigeons.

She opened one eye. Nope.

Looking around dejectedly, she pondered what to do. "Stop, drop, and roll", "find a policeman," or "use your seat cushion as a flotation device" were definitely not applicable to this situation.

Just keep breathing, just keep breathing. You can work this out. You'll be okay.

Another voice in her head scoffed, how!?

Unfortunately an answer was not forthcoming.

And she had another problem. She was hungry.

Veronica gave the grass a dubious look. She could probably eat it. After an experimental sniff, she found it didn't smell that bad…actually, it smelled okay.

I wonder what it tastes like. Another damning thought entered her mind. Didn't they warn about this in all the fairy tales? When in a strange realm don't eat the food or you'll get stuck there? Her mouth hovered over the grass as she debated.

There's a nice thought, Veronica. I wish you hadn't come up with it.

It's just a bit of grass, it probably doesn't count. She snorted, and I'm sure Persephone felt the same way about those three pomegranate seeds.

Decision made, she pulled her head back up. I'm not that desperate.

I need help, she thought. Help would mean people or maybe another horse. Who knew, maybe this was a place like Equestria and everyone here was a horse. Please don't let it be like Equestria. She'd watched a few episodes of My Little Pony when babysitting one of her cousins and had come out of the experience, feeling like she had a better idea of what it was like to be bi-polar.

The further she walked the more her anxiety grew, until the smallest tremor or vibration in the ground would trigger in her the urge to flee. Her tail had taken up permanent residence between her hind legs and her ears were constantly swiveling in all directions, completely overwhelmed by all the noises she was picking up.

The rest of the day was broken into periods of walking and periods of rest. As the day stretched, Veronica was at least able to conclude that east was to her left and west to her right. She was on the west side of the river, but she still didn't know if she was going north or south. She was also getting closer to one of the mountain ranges. The one before her was risen high into the sky and crowned in white. As the sun waned, the bite of the wind became bitter and she found herself shivering.

She eventually came to a ford. It wasn't a bridge but an area of the river where the water became more shallow and passable. The water wasn't clear enough to see the bottom, but she guessed the water would come up just above her knees.

I could cross here, she thought, matter-of-factly. Then again, she didn't really feel like getting her feet and legs wet. She was chilled as it was. She couldn't see anything across the way that would prove helpful. No signs of sentient life. Just more grass. She sighed, just keep following the river. Remember what New York, London, and Cairo all have in common. Water access means civilization.

The last light of the sun slipped below the horizon. Despite the lack of light, Veronica didn't find her vision so diminished that she couldn't make out her path. The stars were also a great aid. Veronica had never seen so many. In the city, at night, they were drowned out by all the street lamps.

She walked a while longer before deciding to stop for the night. Feeling exposed, Veronica forwent lying down in the grass in favor of remaining upright. Moments after her joints locked into place, she was asleep. Her rest was troubled, constantly interrupted by strange noises or the feeling that a predator was at her back. She missed her home. She missed her body. She was hungry. She was cold. She was scared. And she cursed whatever power had brought her here to an eternity in Hell (or Florida, in case Hell wasn't real). Were it physically possible, she would have cried.

Veronica woke again in time to greet the first light of dawn. Despite her disappointment to still find herself on four legs, the sight of the sun cresting over the dancing field gave Veronica a small sense of hope. As the sun broke over the plains, it overpowered the green pigment of the grass and Veronica found herself standing in a path of gold. The sun was a warm balm against her hide. She sighed. Something so beautiful couldn't be entirely wrapped in evil tidings. It was a truly peaceful moment.

And then that moment was gone. The wind rushed up to meet her and brought with it a dire warning. There was a pack of wolves close by.

Author Notes:

Reviews are welcome. If you have any questions, feel free to message me or find me on tumblr under the same name.

Part of what I want to get into in this fan-fiction is a flushing out of Rohirric culture. If anyone has a source that they enjoyed or head-canon that they like, I'd love to hear about it.

Thanks for reading!