Dog Years - Laika's Back! (Orion, Laika - Satyr)


                                            >Saturday morning you get up bright and early.

                                            >Unlike you sister and Thistle, you've always been an early riser.

                                            >Munching on a muffin, you keep an eye out for the post-stallion.

                                            >The lanky form of the familiar pony comes trotting down the street just as you finish breakfast.

                                            "Hey, Mr. Bluebonnet," you call, as you both approach the mail box. "How's it going."

                                            >"Fine, Rory, fine. I don't think I have anything for you this morning. I believe the royal couriers are coming later, though."

                                            "Oh, that's ok. They only deliver stuff for my mom anyway. Hey, I was wondering, have you been by Anonymous the Miner's house?"

                                            >He nods enthusiastically. "I sure have. And to answer your next question, they just rolled in this morning."

                                            "Really? Great, thanks!"

                                            >Mr. Bluebonnet looks like he wants to say something else but you are too excited to pay much attention.

                                            >Running back in the house, you knock on Glimmer's door and announce that if Thistle comes by, to inform her that Laika's back.

                                            >Hearing her sleepy grunt in reply, you head off towards your friend's house.

                                            >Most ponies are surprised whenever they learn of your friendship with the human/diamond dog half-breed.

                                            >While you are a rather reserved individual, Laika is an absolute bundle of energy.

                                            >In fact, a major component of your time together has always been you reigning her in when she gets out of control.

                                            >Ponies are also always commenting on the fact that Laika is apparently not as smart as you, like you are somehow taking pity on her by your hanging out together.

                                            >And while it's true that you are more accomplished academically, (how could you not be with Twilight Sparkle as your mother) Laika is by no means dumb.

                                            >Like her mother and most other diamond dogs, Laika has always had difficulties with pony language.

                                            >This has led most to believe that she is lacking in the brains department.

                                            >What most don't realize is that she's also fluent in her mother's native tongue.

                                            >As you think about her correspondence over the past year, you wonder if her speech has improved as much as her writing has.

                                            >No, when you stop and think about why you're such good friends, there is no clear reason.

                                            >Perhaps, like Thistle, you enjoy acting as an older sibling to the hyper little puppy.

                                            >Laika's house comes into view and you pick up the pace.

                                            >You see Anonymous unloading some boxes from his wagon.

                                            "Hello, Sir!" you call out.

                                            >"Rory!" he responds. "Good to see you."

                                            >You inquire if he would like help with the unpacking and he responds affirmatively.

                                            >This Anonymous is a miner and so you have always thought of him as Anon the Miner.

                                            >Most ponies have trouble keeping all the various Anonymouses strait, but your system seems to work pretty well.

                                            >It was his work as a mining engineer that had first gotten this particular Anonymous involved with the diamond dogs in the first place and where he had met Laika's mom.

                                            >"Laika and her mother are at the store at the moment. We didn't realize how low on supplies we were until we started unpacking."

                                            >You both set your cargo on the kitchen table and Anonymous gives you the once over.

                                            >"Your looking good, lad. Getting tall." he passes a hand over the top of your head to indicate you height.

                                            >It isn't something you've really thought about but you have grown a bit over the past year.

                                            >A little embarrassed, you change the subject. "So, how were the Crystal Mountains?"

                                            >"Oh, they were great. Everyone was real friendly. Those crystal ponies certainly know their business. I got to really practice my craft. You know," he snickers, "my mine-craft. Heh heh..."

                                            >For as long as you've known him, Anon has always referred to his work that way.

                                            >It must be some kind of inside joke, because after all these years you still don't know why he finds calling his work 'mine-craft' funny enough to laugh about.

                                            "So did Laika enjoy the Crystal Mountains?"

                                            >He nods, "She did. I know she missed all of you terribly but I think the north country really agreed with her." He shakes his head. "In fact it might have agreed with her a little too well."

                                            "I know everyone will be happy to have her back. Whenever we have to go travelling through the Everfree it just hasn't been the same without her. And Thistle's missed having her 'little sister's around. In fact, she wants to have a sleep over soon. Has a dress that she thinks Laika would look really cute in."

                                            >Anonymous gives you a curious look.

                                            >"Rory, I know Laika's been writing you this whole time. What, um, what exactly did she write you about?"

                                            >His question takes you by surprise.

                                            "Just normal stuff, I suppose. What school was like. How many squirrels she had chased that week. You know, the usual stuff." A worrisome thought occurs to you. "Why, did something happen? Did she get hurt? I told her not to eat chocolate even if someone offered it to her..."

                                            >"No, no, nothing like that. She's fine. Mamma is fine. We're all fine. Heh, you are always worrying after her. That's why I have always been so grateful that you are Laika's friend."

                                            "Then what is it? What happened?"

                                            >"Well..." Anon is cut off as the door bangs open.

                                            >"We're back!" an unfamiliar female voice calls out.

                                            >Before you can turn to see who it is the same voice cries, "Rory!" and before you know what's happening you are caught in a crushing embrace.

                                            >Just as you are about to black out from lack of oxygen, Anon tells your assailant to let you down.

                                            >When you regain your hooves you bend over, gasping for air.

                                            >You look over to the side and see a large pair of paws standing next to you.

                                            >That's funny, you didn't think Laika's mom had such big rear paws.

                                            >Then you look up.

                                            >And up...

                                            >And up, until finally you are staring into the face of, not a diamond dog as you were expecting, but a young woman.

                                            >She looks to be about sixteen or seventeen and is quite well built.

                                            >The look on her face is one of playful excitement.

                                            >If it weren't for the fact that she was so much older you'd swear you were looking at...

                                            >"Laika, doesn't mama need some more help with the groceries?" Anon reminds her.

                                            >"Oh, ok. I come back Rory." You watch in befuddlement as the tall half-breed bounds out the door.

                                            >Slowly, you look over towards Anon.

                                            "Who was that?" you ask in a completely reasonable tone.

                                            >"I already said. That was Laika."

                                            "Uh, yes. I don't believe you." you continue in the same even manner.

                                            >"~Sigh~ I guess I can't blame you. But that is her. I guess she didn't tell you in any of her letters, but she grew while we were gone."

                                            "Now, see, that's why I don't believe you." It's getting increasingly hard to maintain your level tone. "Laika is a foot shorter than I am. That... young lady is a foot taller. At least!"

                                            >Anon nods in agreement.

                                            >"Yep. As near as we can tell, it's some kind of canine thing. You know, one human year equals three and a half dog years?"

                                            "That doesn't make any sense!" you shout.

                                            >Laboring mightily, you calm yourself.

                                            >Usually, it's really hard to make you lose your cool, but this situation is kind of freaking you out for some reason.

                                            "Laika is twelve years old." you rejoin, "If your formula were correct then she should look like a thirty-eight year old."

                                            >"Ha, always the professor, eh Rory? Look I don't know. Maybe her canine half caught up with her? I'm not a magi-geneticist. I'm just a guy who practices-"

                                            "Mine-craft, yes I know. Look, how can..?"

                                            >You hear the door bang open again.

                                            >Anon leans in. "Look, we can go over this later. Laika will be crushed if you treat her differently, so just bear with it for now, ok?"

                                            >Before you can respond, the tall dog-girl enters the room carrying an enormous pile of bags and boxes.

                                            >You gawp, open mouthed.

                                            >Laika had always been strong but you haven't seen anyone lift that much except Big Mac or maybe Darcy.

                                            >While she sets the shopping on the counter, Anon's wife appears.

                                            >"Rory," she cheers. "Is good to see you."

                                            >She gives you a big (though fortunately not crushing) hug.

                                            >Like her husband, she indicates your height with her paw and points out that you are now a little bit taller than her.

                                            >"You get big, Rory. But not as big as Laika, eh?" she gives her daughter a teasing look.

                                            >"Mama!" The huge half-breed cries. "I not that big!"

                                            >Perhaps if she was standing next to a minotaur...

                                            >Suddenly, Laika seems to remember you're there and rushes over to give you another hug.

                                            >Fortunately for you, she moderates her grip this time.

                                            >As you return the embrace she inadvertently wraps one of her paws around you neck and forces your head down into her chest.

                                            >Expecting it to be solid with muscle you are instead surprised to find that it's rather soft and squishy.

                                            >Oh, Celestia!

                                            >You realize that those are your friend's breasts that you face is being smushed against!

                                            >"You not think Laika too big. Do you Rory?"

                                            >You try to answer, but you can't get any words past her pillowy front, so instead you instinctually shake your head to tell her no.

                                            >She begins to giggle, and you realize with growing horror that you've been rubbing your face in her chest.

                                            >"Hee hee, it tickles! Stop, Rory!"

                                            >She grabs you shoulders and forces you away from her chest.

                                            >Gathering your wits, you glance over at Anon, worried what his reaction is to your unintentional molesting of his daughter front.

                                            >To your annoyance, he's got his hand over his mouth and is trying his darndest to keep from laughing.

                                            >You turn back to Laika.

                                            >Yes, now that you have the chance to examine her, you can tell it's her.

                                            >She has that same brown hair and golden-brown eyes.

                                            >Her face definitely looks different, though.

                                            >It's matured in such a way that she looks like she could be the older sister of the Laika you remember.

                                            >Both her rear and forepaws are bigger than before, but somehow look more in proportion with the rest of her body.

                                            >Probably because it's grown so much.

                                            >Speaking of her body, you try not to look at it too much, remembering that cushiony sensation on you face.

                                            >You friend, noticing your examination of her new form, starts to give you a curious look.

                                            >Wanting to put her at ease, you go with your easiest option.

                                            >Banal conversation.

                                            "So," you lamely mutter, "how was living in the Crystal Mountains?"

                                            >Laika's face lights up and she launches into a rapidfire report on all the different things that she has experienced while living in the north.

                                            >Most of it is stuff you've already been told through her letters, but your thankful for the distraction.

                                            >She is just starting to tell you that there are, in fact, four different types of squirrels living in the crystal mountains, when you hear a knock at the front door.

                                            >"Hello." Thistle calls, as she opens the door and lets herself in.

                                            >"We're in here!" replies Anon.

                                            >Looking up at Laika, you realize with the clarity of a condemned prisoner kneeling before the chopping block what is about to happen.

                                            >Thistle, who has always thought of herself as Laika's big sister and has always taken great delight in having someone her own height that she can play dress-up with, is about to get the shock of her life.

                                            >And like that condemned prisoner watching the heads-stallion sharpening his axe, there's not a blessed thing you can do about it.

                                            >Thistle comes into the kitchen, a huge smile on her face.

                                            >"Hey everybody, how's it..."

                                            >She stops.

                                            >First she looks at Laika, then at you, then at Anon, followed by Laika's mom, and then back to Laika.

                                            >Her face wrinkles in confusion.

                                            >"Uh, where's Laika?" She ask uncertainly.

                                            >The half-canine acts as though Thistle is playing a game. "Thistle! I Laika! Right here"

                                            >Laika points to herself to emphasis the point.

                                            >Your dragon friend looks on in bemusement and so you walk over to her.

                                            "I know this is... odd." you murmur into her ear. "But that really is Laika. She kinda, sorta grew. I'm still trying to figure it out."

                                            >By the time you finish Laika has walked over to Thistle as well and is crouching down for a hug.

                                            >"Oh Thistle, I miss dragon-sis." she says as she wraps the smaller, scaly girl in her paws.

                                            >When she released her, Thistle looks about how you must have a few minutes ago.

                                            >Then her shocked face slackens, her eyes roll back in her head, and the daughter of the mighty dragons faints dead away.

                                            >"Oh, no!" cries Laika, "what happen?"

                                            "She'll be all right," you reassure her. "My mom tells me that her father, Spike, used to do the same thing all the time."