Her wings hidden by the violet cloak she wore, she headed toward the gates. It was unguarded and unmanned, but that didn't concern her. In fact, she was glad for it. She had no explanation of who she was to give them, and wasn't entirely sure that what was happening wasn't a dream. This morning, if her pony brain could remember right, she had been human. Now, though, she was a full grown pony headed for Ponyville.

She stopped, and thought for a moment. Maybe she shouldn't walk through the gate yet. Pulling the cloak tighter, she headed into the nearby woods. The grass was rough on her flank sitting down, but she needed a rest. Walking all day had taken its toll on her, and she was beat. When she went to lay down, she noticed there were saddle bags on her back. She maneuvered them off, not quite used to her new pony body and looked inside. There were a few books, a bag of apples, a mirror, and a note.

'Well, at least I have something to eat...' She thought to herself. She tried picking up an apple with her hoof, but the lack of opposable thumbs made it just a bit difficult. She tried using both of her hooves, not amused as it fell back into the bag. On the third attempt, she accidentally managed to mash it into bits leaving a mess of apple and peel behind. With a sigh, she licked up what she could, and wiped her hooves against where her pants would have been. An attempted facepalm at getting apple all over herself resulted in a large bump on her head from her hoof. Frustrated, she flopped down. Walking as a pony had been easy, just one foot in front of the other. Muscle memory had actually mostly taken care of that, but all of this fine motor skill stuff was really not working out.

Finally deciding to look at the note, she pulled it through the dirt with her hoof, adding to the mess. Luckily, it was still legible.

Hello,

I hope you don't mind, but I examined your life and

felt that you could use a change. So I gave you a new body

and a new life. Your new name is Paryra Scribe. I'm sorry

I couldn't give you a cutie mark, even with my advanced

capabilities, but as an avid fan I'm sure you remember that

a cutie mark can't be forced, but will come when it's ready.

You should read the book labeled, 'Scribble's Journal'. This

will give you an idea of what your new life is like. If you

don't like what I've done for you by the end of the month,

I'll return you to the place you were before.

Good Luck

It hadn't occurred to her to do so before now, but she decided to see what she looked like. She decided to try using her mouth to maneuver the mirror in her bag, instead of her hooves. This worked a little better, but the mirror did end up a little fogged. Waiting for the mirror to defog, she nuzzled through the books, looking for the journal, finally understanding that her hooves were not what she should use to manipulate objects. She was going to have to think like a pony now.

The mirror had cleared by the time she pulled the book out. It was a little mirror, she would have called it a hand-mirror if she still had hands. In it she saw a beautiful onyx filly with a violet mane. Her eyes were a deep forest green behind large round glasses with a starry night black frame. She stared at her reflection a bit, wondering if this really could be her. It had been a fantasy of hers to actually become a pony and go to Ponyville, and in her fantasies this was always the colors she imagined herself to be. She looked at her flank, and it was true that she didn't have a cutie mark.

Despite all of these amazing things, she still wasn't sure she wanted to do this. After all, it's not like she had asked for this, and considering the trouble she was having starting out she wasn't even sure if even the fantasy was worth it. In fact, just walking this far had been a pain in her hindquarters. Couldn't she have, at least, been dropped off closer? As she thought, she started to get a little pissed off. Who was this mysterious person who had suddenly decided that her old life hadn't been worth living as such. Why couldn't she have decided on her own if she had actually wanted to enter this new world or not. While it was true she probably would have jumped at the chance, a little consent would have been appreciated. In a dispelling of being upset she bucked her hind legs against a tree, in turn causing a branch to fall on her. In frustration and pain she shook her head. With a resigned sigh, she started to realize that she was stuck here for a month anyway, so she may as well try to enjoy it. Looking on the bright side, she might be able to get a cutie mark.

Nervously, she opened the journal to learn about her new life. As she read, images came up in her mind. Little pieces of memory created or unlocked, she couldn't tell which, told her of her new life's story. Papayra Scribe and who she was before did have a lot in common. A father who constantly kept her working and told her that the only way she could earn a living was by working very, very hard, A kind mother, who wanted to help out as many people as possible, and the pushing aside of what they truly enjoyed doing to take care of other business. Which would often include chores around the house, working at a loathed job, higher education and the work that came from it, and basic functions like eating and sleeping. Unlike who she was before, Papyra had grown up in a small apartment above a small library. Her daily chores had consisted of shelving books and cleaning said shelves. Work that she didn't mind, but her siblings kept messing up at every turn. Her job consisted of managing a counter in a store, in a city only a little ways away from the town she had lived in. She had to be nice and polite to ponies that didn't care if she was alive or dead, so long as they got their diet foods and useless junk. Getting a higher education hadn't been so bad for Papyra, but she had to work in order to be able to afford the education, hence the hated job. It wasn't even a subject of interest for her. It was supposed to be a backup plan for if her main purpose in life couldn't earn her a living, and at the rate that was going, her backup plan was looking more and more like it would take the place of her main plan.

Papyra shed a tear reading over this pony's journal. Her journal. This was almost the story of the life she had before, but in pony form. If she had taken the time as a human to write down her life, it would have sounded almost exactly like what was in this.

She grabbed another apple out of the bag using her mouth this time, and was able to successfully eat it by balancing it on her hoof when taking bites. A feather pen had been stashed in the back of the book, and a tiny vial of ink was embedded on the inside of the cover. She used what little ink there was to write a new entry. Surprisingly, the one fine motor skill that her muscle memory had decided to help her with was holding the pen in her mouth and being able to actually use it to write legibly. Rolling her eyes was the only response she could manage for this, as her mouth was full of pen. She recapped the ink, and put the pen back before picking up the stuff that had spilled out of her bag. From inside another book, apparently a false book, had fallen a purse with some coins in it.

'That'll come in handy.' She thought to herself. She put that back in her bag as well. She headed back towards the road, still nervous and a little upset, but at least she knew who she was now. When she arrived back at the road, she noticed a small pond on the other side. She looked both ways before heading toward it, as cleaning herself up a bit was probably not a bad idea. She had gotten about halfway across when something big and colorful slammed into her side, making her tumble with whatever it was for several yards until coming to a crashing stop, with whatever had hit her pinning her down.