>Finally, you are Oz.
>It’s been a long day. You have decided against cleaning, so you went outside. It’s rather nice out, with the sun shining and the birds singing. For a while, you just sat and enjoyed the outdoors. It was nicer than being cooped up in this house all the time.
>It gave you time to reflect on things. Like, the state of things with Anon.
>A butterfly flits over to land on your horn. You look up and smile softly as it opens and closes its wings slowly.
>It was so light, but was also alive.
>You didn’t regret what happened with Anon. You wished you had been better at it, actually. You had wanted to take control of things; you were used to being in control. You were an operating system, after all. Maybe it was time to visit some more of those sites and pick up some pointers….
>But you had made him feel better. And you felt better because of it. That was what mattered the most to you. You wouldn’t call him Master; this relationship was nowhere near that. Friend? Lover? And had it been fast? You had, after all, arrived in this living world two days ago. 
>The butterfly flies off and you get up, shaking yourself off. You decide to go for a walk. Maybe you’d check out that poor deer’s burial site. You stretch much like a cat and decide to head off. A brief visit to Google Earth’s app shows you a path through the woods to a spot that appears to be the meadow Anon mentioned.
>You hum quietly to yourself as you make your way through the forest. A bunch of the little critters look at you curiously. You wish you could communicate with them, but they just jabber in their strange language. 
>”DUBS!” “Check’em!” “DUBS!” “Check ‘em!”
>If only you could understand what they were saying. You sigh and trot on.
>After a long slow walk, you make your way to the meadow. It’s a lot prettier then you thought it would be. There’s nothing but tall green grass as far as the eye can see until the forest rises again in the distance. Behind you the dirt road that Anon drives on can be barely glimpsed. Flowers dot the terrain like stars in the night, and birds flit above singing their songs. The sky is a bright blue with a few lazy clouds drifting around. There’s even a little stream in the middle leading to a pond.
>You smile and look around. You feel an urge to break into song, like a bad Disney movie. A mouse runs by you swiftly and with nary a care, you decide to trot about. You end up watching the fish in the river and the pond and lazily resting on a large boulder that’s warmed by the sun.
>Eventually, the alarm you set goes off. Anon should be getting off work in a bit or he may be already on his way. You yawn and grin. Today has been a good day.
>As you get up, you slide off the rock and wince, a sudden pain cutting into your leg. You look down and see a small hook sticking up out of the mud. It caught your leg as you got down, which was odd because you didn’t remember seeing it before. It doesn’t even look like it belongs there.
>”Ow…” You whine and rub the spot with a hoof. A sudden snuffling interrupts your thoughts and you look up.
>What looks like a large black colored hump of fur is swiping at the pond in an attempt to get at the fish. It’s paws have large claws on them and it grumbles as it continues to try for the fish. A quick search informs you that this is a black bear.
>You nervously try to shuffle away, but you knock over a rock. The bear looks up and notices you. Its nose flares as it tries to scent you, and that’s when you realize it smells the blood. You pray it’s not hungry.
>When the bear starts to move towards you, you squeak nervously and try to figure out how to react. The first internet article you can find says to run, so you do.
>The bear roars and gives chase.
~~~~~~~
>Anon again. Cliffhangers, eh?
>You yawn. After that idiot, nobody else came to the store. You spent your lunch break passed out in the back. The rest of the day you cleaned the front desk. Now it’s an hour to quitting time.
>Jeb surfaces from the back office. Holy shit, you forgot how much beard he has. Duck Dynasty ain’t got shit on him.
>”Hey, Anon. We have any business?”
“Just Mr. Maxwell and Mark.”
>”His exhaust finally fall off?”
“Yep.”
>Your boss chuckles and inserts a fresh pinch of dip in his lip. Wiping excess tobacco off his mouth, he looks at you.
>”That nerd from Wal-Mart called. Your computer’s fixed. If you want to take off early, I’ll handle closing so you can grab it.”
>That’s what you liked about Jeb. He may be hidden all day, but he owned up to it later. He looked out for his employees.
“I’d appreciate that, boss. Listen, I wanted to ask you a question.”
>Jeb spits into an empty bottle of oil. “Shoot.”
“I just got a new pet…and I was wondering if I could bring her to work with me like you let Clet bring in his ol’ coon hound. She pines when I’m away.”
>Its mostly bullshit, but Jeb don’t need to know that.
>”I don’t see why not…what kind of dog is she?” He strokes his chin dully.
“That’s the thing, Jeb. She’s not a dog. She’s a small horse.”
>Jeb’s eye twitches. “What? A pony?”
“E-yeah. She was kind of dumped on my steps and I’ve been taking care of her. I promise she won’t bite or pee on the display cases-“
>You remember when that blind man from uptown had come with his seeing-eye pony. The thing had ruined the store for days. Jeb had sworn to barbeque the next equine he saw in his store.
“-her name is Oz, and she’s really nice…”
>”Oz? Who the hell names a horse Oz?”
“It’s short…for Ottawa.”
>Clet laughs from the back along to the laugh track.
>Jeb sighs. “You’re lucky I like you, boy. I’ll give it a chance, but if I so much as catch a whiff of horseshit…”
“Won’t happen on my watch, Jeb! You won’t regret it.”
>”Better not. Now go on, get your stupid computer. I’ll see you tomorrow the same time.”
“Gotcha. Have a good night, boss!”
>You clock out on the register and five minutes later you’re hood sliding across your truck. Wal-Mart is your destination now, to the computer department. The acne-scarred greasy teenager behind the counter recognize you and waves you over.
>”Here you are, Mr. Anon. Don’t know what you did to blow the processer like that, but I was able to salvage everything you had. I had to give you a new case, though. The other one was completely fried.”
>You examine the sleek black CPU with intrest before nodding and digging for your credit card. 
“Thanks, hoss. Oh, while I got you here…”
>You hand the card over as inspiration strikes you. The IT guy raises a brow. “What’s up?”
“Is there anything that could cause an operating system to come to life? I’m talking like, functioning outside the computer or phone or whatever. Would that be possible?”
>The IT guy stares at you dully as he swipes your card. He hands it and your receipt copy to sign.
>”Anon…have you been drinking?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
>You sign it as the IT guy shrugs and answers your question.
>”Not outside a sci-fi movie. They were supposed to come with holograms of programs that you could interact with but that was five years ago. Apple was supposed to do something for the Mac, but it never came to fruition. That answer your question?”
“Yeah. Thanks, hoss. Have a good one.”
>You heft the computer onto your shoulder and beat a hasty exit. Moments later, you’re roaring door the road to home. You hope she likes the computer; maybe it could be a techno-friend or something.
>Today was a good day, or at least it was until you pull up at home. You don’t see Oz anywhere; maybe she was still out walking. You glance at your cell phone; no missed calls. You walk the computer in and set it down. After you change your shirt to something more comfortable (flannel shirt unbuttoned and missing sleeves, as usual) you head back outside, something nagging at you. Where the hell was Oz?
“Oz?”
>You call her name loudly, and there’s no response. You check the rest of the house and find nothing. You even check the shed despite your warnings. The lock is still locked and there’s no sign she had gotten in. You frown now, looking at the ground. You can vaguely make out her hoofprints but that’s it. Walking around the house you find some rather unfriendly looking bear tracks near the trash cans, but nothing to suggest anything happened. 
>And then your phone rings. You had forgotten you had one; you could have called her, dumbass.
>You flip open the phone.
“Yello?”
>”A-Anon…” It’s Oz, but her voice is strained. You can tell she’s breathing heavily. “Ursine…attacked…magicked into a nearby tree, but…they can climb trees…”
“Where?!”
>You try to keep your voice calm, but this is some DEFCON high level shit going on.
>”Meadow…help me…”
“I’m on my way, Oz. Hold tight.”
>With that, you snap the phone shut. Shit just got real.
>You run back inside and head over to the couch. Behind it, resting on a rack you designed into the wall, is the same shotgun you had from your dreams. You swing it up and grab the box of ammo hanging next to it. You load it as fast as possible, shoving some extra shells into your pockets. You run outside and hop in your truck, turning the engine on. With a squeal of rubber and dirt flying, you kick it into high speed, peeling off back down the dirt road. 
>You don’t even hesitate, smashing the truck through the low-hanging foliage and shrubbery to crash into the meadow, disturbing the beautiful scene. Butterflies fly away as you disturb their feeding, and a pair of birds shrieks harshly at the metal monster roaring through the meadow. You stop at the stream and put it in park. 
>After a moment, you pop open the glove box. You pull out a large revolver and a pair of speed loaders full of ammo. You tuck the speed loaders into your shirt pockets and tuck the revolver into the back of your pants. No holster, no time for it.
>You step out and check the ground. Around the stream you find her tracks after three minutes of searching. You also find a fishhook with blood and a bit of her fur on a bent piece of grass. There are bear tracks superimposed on top of her tracks, which means…
>You try to avoid thinking the worst as you swiftly follow the tracks. You pause as you follow the tracks, making sure there’s not another predator following you, or God forbid another hunter.
>Despite the clear “No Trespassing. Violators Will Be Shot, Survivors Shot Again” signs all over your land, some assholes always think it’s fun to try and poach off your land. Your chief concern earlier had been a poacher mistaking her for a doe; but it seems like you forgot the real threat.
>Bears. Stephen Colbert was right.
>In what seems like no time at all you hear the sound of a very frustrated boar. Approaching carefully, you eye the scene. A large black bear is trying to climb a thick tree. You can barely see Oz hidden in the foliage. As she squeaks in fear, the bear bellows angrily. 
>You recognize the bear as the ornery son of a bitch you’d been hunting since you moved here. His name was “BearZilla”, as dubbed by the locals due to his size and wrath. He once pinned a pair of hunters this way, and left after one of them finally shat his pants in fear. He was as hard to find as he was to stop.
>But that was about to change.
“HOI! BERRY MUNCHER!”
>You fire a shell at him. He’s too far for it to be effective, but the shouting has the desired effect. The bear turns and looks at you, eyes ablaze.
>You pump the shotgun, ejecting the spent shell.
“Pick on something that can fight back.”
>With a roar, the bear charges you, full speed. You had forgotten they can reach full speed pretty swiftly.
>Blast, pump, blast, pump, blast, pump, blast, pump, click.
>Oh fuck. You forgot this only holds five shells. 
>You try to reload, but ol’ BearZilla is pissed as shit and not at all dead. You try to get one last shot off as he closes the distance, but he smashes into you and your shot goes wild. The bear is on you like white on rice on a paper plate in the middle of a blizzard. You use your shotgun as a barrier to try and keep the animal’s maw from ripping you apart. A paw slashes your side but you don’t notice; instead trying for some breathing room.
>Finally, BearZilla backs off, blood streaming from numerous holes the buckshot put into him. You fire another blast, mangling the bear’s face and just pissing him off even more. You drop the shotgun and draw the revolver as it charges again. With a blast, your hand cannon goes off and the animal crashes into you.
>After a few minutes, you realize you aren’t being ripped to shreds. The slug managed to hit it square in the brain and the animal is dying, slowly shutting down. It’s amber eyes glare at you dully and it scrapes the ground in an attempt to get you to you. With a small sigh, you put the revolver to the bear’s head. You squeeze the trigger twice more before BearZilla stops moving.
>Slowly, you wriggle out from under the carcass of the bear, pausing only to keep from screaming in pain at the bear’s attack on you. You glance at yourself in the light of the setting sun; your shirt and undershirt are ripped to shreds, and you’re bleeding. A nice amount of blood, but not enough to write home about. You grunt and take a knee.
>Goddamn bears. You decided to unload the next three rounds into its skull. Just to be sure.
“OZ! It’s me. The bear’s gone.”
>You flick open the revolver and the empty casings fall to the ground. You draw one of your speed loaders and load the revolver. With a snap, you close it and stand up. With a burst of blue magic, Oz is standing before you, looking nervous and fearful. She’s shaking like a leaf in the wind. When she sees the bear, she squeaks and runs to you like a little kid.
“He’s dead, Oz. He won’t be hurting anypony. Or anyone.”
>You rest a bloody and dirty hand on her head gently and smile down at her. 
“Let’s go home.”