Hank knew by then and had a inkling before when without asking his supposed Familiar to change, transform him to become again an equine animal, that his spiritual doom was assured. If allowed to give his opinion said verbally, Hank might well have further upset and angered the Familiar. A Fjord pony cannot talk as tell what he thinks, as actions at times can speak louder. Hank reacted, he soiled the two parchment paper pages using olive oil, as salted the book cover before he using his pony jaw and teeth, as he lifted the big ledger. His strong pony neck and firm grip on the book spine made it easy for him to place the book where it would meet it destruction.
Satisfied when Hank heard the Familiar whine and scream, the pony Hank summarily strolled from the house kitchen, as pushing open the screen door leading to the garage. Hank was in meaningful control of his equine self and mental faculties. He knew enough to press the electric button that raised the garage door and allowed him to leave his house, as being doomed a pony, he would never return too again reside there.
Familiar screams echoed the house, as an excited devil tried without direct physical touch to shoving the torched Tome from off the stove burners.
The extra acute hearing of pony ears knew the likely sound of the Tome when it hit the kitchen floor. Somehow, the devilish Familiar had used something there in the kitchen to touching, as then slide the singed book from off the stove’s four lit burners. Hank had considered the leather-bound big book to smolder before the olive oil would start the book to then burning.
Calm as are most ponies when let to roam in their free element of grassy fields and only their passive desire to live as graze in peace, Hank strode away from his past existence. As recalled thoughts from when for three long months that Hank stood and lived, as would a male donkey; he rather relished the idea of his being then a less bulkier pony stallion.
Feeling a sense of new freedom, Hank walked across high grassy fields, his tail neatly flicking the thick bush of pony’ tail hairs. He felt more as light on his four hoofs, quite agile when he would thinking compared being a pony to memories when a donkey. He knew that in due time the devil familiar would come to be a bothering Hank; as the Tome was so big it likely would not burn fully to ashes.
The remembered road sign Hank had read during his driving toward home sparked in him an interest to go visit.
Hank was mentally his human self, and understood common directions, north from south and east where the sun rose. He burst into a full galloping, heading generally in the direction of where he would find the Pale Valley farm.
Hank thought to smile with an uncommon sense of admiration for his devil familiar. The devil when having done the transforming of Hank included all of what was internal. As his guts became equine and pony, so did all what he had eaten of human foodstuff did change as though he were grazing. Hank realized this added oddity while trotting, he felt an urge, as pushed with his diaphragm; and ejecting out several road-apples from his black, as puckered, equine anus.
Meanwhile, back at a human domicile, an all black pony stallion devil-familiar had the inspiration to use the kitchen sink, and it’s dish sprayer hose with nozzle, effectively dousing the burning Tome. The sprayed water removed the devil dangerous salt, allowing him to touch, as shove the Tome off the stove, and fall harshly upon the kitchen floor.
Bedeviled grumbling began, as the Familiar took exceptional care at lifting it off the floor, this Tome he was there to expressly guard, lest it came to harm.
Devils and magic are synonymous, one with the other, so as a natural ability; the Tome guardian waved his left hand across, as over the Tome, he fully rejuvenating the ledger of magic to a newly state of evil perfection.