//------------------------------// // Dropping In // Story: Forgetful Hearts // by JMac //------------------------------// Marble and Limestone Pie lay on floor rugs at opposite sides of the hearth.  They had the house to themselves and could have sat anywhere, including the comfortable seats normally reserved for their parents.  But the girls felt most comfortable curled up on the floor in front of the fire, especially on a stormy night.  It had been that way since they were small. The tranquility inside the house was a sharp contrast to the storm raging outside.  The Pies who first settled the farm took important things such as homes very seriously; an attitude they passed on to later generations of Pies, mostly.  The house was built like a fortress. Within their cozy sanctuary the sisters could barely hear the roar of the storm over the crackling of the fire. When something happened outside that was loud enough to hear this came as a shock. Both ponies’ ears shot up at the sound of the crash.  Limestone barely managed to hold on to the accounting work she was going over.  She carefully set the sheaf of receipts down away from the fire.   Marble shrieked, and the Daring Donovel she was reading flew from her hooves and landed on the far side of the room. “Was that our…?” began Limestone.  Before she could say ‘windmill’ there was a distinctly metallic clatter from above.  Apparently, the windmill blades had flown off and landed on the roof. Limestone dashed to the front door.  She’d only opened it a crack when the wind pushed the door in, almost smacking her in the face.  Peering through the sheets of driving rain and sleet Limestone could barely make out the steel frame tower of the windmill.  It was still standing, though it was missing its top.  It definitely wouldn’t be running the pump they needed to keep the quarry from flooding. Something bright blue was laying at the base of the tower.  It took Limestone a moment before she realized it was a pony. “Marble, we have to…”  Limestone looked back to see her sister already standing right behind her, holding both of their rain coats.  Throwing on their rain gear they dashed out into the storm. The pony lay very still, but he seemed to be breathing normally and none of his limbs were obviously broken.  His lips moved, but over the noise of the storm neither mare could tell if he was trying to speak or just moaning.   The bright blue that had caught Limestone’s eye turned out to be a tight fitting coverall the stranger wore.  This was lucky for him.  Through many tears in the suit they could see that his coat was actually smoke gray.  Without the suit Limestone was certain they wouldn’t have seen him until sunrise. He was a pegasus, but unlike any the sisters had ever met.  They had never seen a bat pony before. Limestone knelt beside the stranger and shouted.  “Marble, help me roll him onto my back!” She couldn’t hear her sister’s answer, but Limestone understood the concerned look Marble shot her.  “I know!  It’s dangerous to move an injured pony!  But it’ll be worse to leave him out here, so help me get him inside!” Marble nodded.  Working together they were able to move the stranger with a minimum of jostling.  They soon had him inside, and resting on the floor near the hearth.  While his coveralls were badly torn they looked repairable, and they also looked expensive.  The garment was certainly custom fitted.  The frugal Pie sisters decided to at least try to remove the coveralls without cutting them off.  To their surprise they succeeded with very little tugging, despite the tight fit.  It helped that Marble and Limestone were both very strong, and the stranger was small and lightly built. Once out of his sodden clothes they just needed to towel the stranger dry, then get him a pillow and a warm quilt.  He muttered in his sleep as he rested comfortably, and  Limestone made a mental note of everything he said. Watching the stranger sleep it struck Limestone that there was something childlike about him.  It wasn’t just his stature.  Limestone was on the short side herself, and nopony would ever compare her to a filly. “My Gosh, you are beautiful!” gasped Limestone.  She immediately blushed with shock that she’d said it aloud, and silently berated herself for not holding her tongue.  Limestone knew enough about stallions to know one wouldn’t appreciate being called ‘beautiful.’  But handsome just wasn’t the right word.  He was beautiful. Limestone heard Marble behind her, rummaging in the closet.  She turned to see her sister shrugging on a raincoat.  It was not Marble’s own dark purple coat, it was their father’s high visibility orange jacket. “Oh, no!” declared Limestone.  “Whatever you have planned, you just stop right there, Filly!” “Nnn-nuhn,” answered Marble.  She turned and started for the front door. “Don’t you turn your back on me!  And don’t you just hum at me.  You use your words.  We need to talk about this.” Marble frown, but she also nodded agreement.  This was important enough for even her to speak out loud.  “Mmh-hmm.  I’m going to run and catch the train to get help.” “No, not in this storm!”  Limestone stomped her hooves.  “Anyway, the only train before morning is the express from Canterlot.  It won’t stop at Holder Station.” “Nnn-nuhn,” said Marble.  “The crew are all friends of Daddy’s.  They’ll stop for me.” Limestone looked at a mantle clock.  “You’ll never get there in time.” “Mmh-hmm.  I’m fast enough.” “Mother and Father left me in charge, and being in charge means not letting my little sister run through any storms!  They taught me better than that.” “Nnn-nuhn.  They left you in charge of the farm, they left me in charge of me.  And they taught us to do what’s right, and do it the best way you can.  You’re the smart one and you know about concussions and stuff, so you have to stay and tend to him.  I’m faster, so I have to go meet the train.  I gotta run now.”  Marble went to the door. Limestone couldn’t defeat her sister’s logic.  “Please, Inky, don’t go!” Marble stopped at the open door.  “You’re the only one who calls me ‘Inky.’  I never liked it.”  Then she was gone. Limestone ran to the open door and screamed, “Yeah?  Well, if I had any friends they’d all call me Blinky!”  But Marble was already far away, and couldn’t possibly hear. Limestone shoved the door closed, and turned back to her patient.  She grumbled, “I don’t actually know that much.”  If his injuries were going to kill him she wasn’t going to be the pony who saved him, and Limestone did not like being left alone with that responsibility.  However, if he wasn’t dying then there were some things she could do for him. Limestone started a kettle for white willow bark tea.  If he woke up, the stranger was going to wake up with a nasty headache, and the tea was the best pain relief Limestone had to offer him.  Then she gathered up supplies she needed, and went back to clean the stranger’s wounds. He was covered with scrapes, bruises, and little cuts.  None of these were serious, and few of them were on his chest or abdomen.  When the stranger had tumbled into whatever he’d hit he must have tucked in his legs to protect his vital organs.  Limestone suspected that he had been trained to do this. While she was best known for her ability to apply brute force, Limestone was also capable of a very light touch.  She had been preparing gems since she was old enough to wield a hammer and chisel with a steady hoof.  In all that time she had never damaged the valuable stones, she’d never even scratched one.  As Limestone carefully ministered to her patient he continued to murmur in his sleep.  He never cried out, and Limestone took this to mean she wasn’t hurting him.  Actually, he almost sounded as if he was enjoying the attention.  Limestone dismissed this as just her imagination. The worst wounds were at his head.  There were two of these.  The first had already stopped bleeding and begun to dry.  Limestone cleaned a bit of what she thought was bark out of that one.  The other wound was fresher, and no doubt happened when the stranger hit their windmill.  It had also stopped bleeding, though the scalp around the wound was swollen and discolored.  Limestone continued to probe, but found no more injuries.  The stranger’s hair was very soft.  He wore his russet and blonde mane in a very severe military flat top.  If the haircut was meant to make the baby faced stranger  look more butch it failed completely.  Limestone grinned at the idea, then frowned.  She understood being overly severe in an effort to be taken seriously.  She didn’t think it worked for her either. Limestone drew her leg back with a start when she realized she had continued to run the tip of her hoof through his mane far longer than need be to examine him.  This was inappropriate.  But she couldn’t help herself. “You are so beautiful,” gasped Limestone.  Then she was furious with herself, just for thinking it, let alone saying it aloud again. His wings were a wonder.  Limestone did not know many pegasi, and she certainly didn’t know any well enough to ever be touching their wings, but it was still obvious that this bat pony’s wings were very different.  There were so many little bones!  Limestone set a hoof flat against a wing so she could feel it with her frog, the sensitive part of her hoof.  She gently ran her hoof over the wing, tracing out the bones.  None of them seemed to be broken.  Apparently the stranger, delicate seeming wings and all, was sturdier than he looked.  Limestone smiled at this.  It was a quality she appreciated in other ponies. She’d done all she could for her patient.  It was frustrating, but there it was.  There was nothing left to do but watch him. Since she had the time Limestone decided to give some thought to the who this mysterious stranger was and what had happened to him.  She didn’t have many clues. There were his blue coveralls.  Limestone was familiar with the Wonderbolts, as they performed at several of the same fairs where she’d gone to trade shows.  This uniform was different.  Where the Wonderbolts had their iconic lightning bolt at the barrel this suit had a pair of silver wings.  Limestone knew there were more flying groups in Equestria than the Wonderbolts.  She’d even seen such a group once.  They were the Dodge County Community College ROTC Cherry Bombs.  The Bombs were terrible.  They were probably the worst fliers in Equestria, and because of this they actually had something of a following among ponies who loved to cheer for an underdog.  Limestone was a bit of a closet Bombs fan herself.  However, their team colors were pink and green.  The stranger was definitely not a Cherry Bomb. The stranger had also worn a small flank pack.  When Limestone unzipped it empty candy wrappers burst out.  The wrappers all bore a generic looking stamp, “High Energy Fruit Like Snack”.   There were more empties than Limestone cared to count, and only one uneaten candy left.  So, the stranger had a sweet tooth.  Limestone frowned, as this reminded her of her sister Pinkie.  She promised herself she would try to be fair, and not hold it against him. There was also a little pin, that had been at the breast of the suit.  It was a stylized silver wing, chased with gold and set with a single turquoise stone.  Limestone could make nothing of it. The stranger’s final possession  was a photograph.  It was of a purple mare in a brand new ball gown, beaming for the camera.  She wasn’t what would normally be considered a classic beauty.  The mare was painfully thin, long of face, and perhaps a bit buck toothed.  Limestone thought she was cute. Her smile made her stunning.  No pony could be that happy and not be stunning. The mare’s only possible fault, as far as Limestone was concerned, was her mane.  It was an explosive mass of poofy, orange curls; it reminded Limestone of her sister Pinkie.  Limestone was prepared to forgive this.  Pinkie’s mane was one of the few things about her that didn’t irritate Limestone. On the back of the photo was scrawled “Frazzle, Royal Honors Night.” Limestone had found the photo in a pocket sewn inside the stranger’s overalls.  He would have worn it over his heart. Limestone was overcome by a moment of irrational jealousy.  Without being sure why, she opened the drawer of a cabinet and slide the photo inside to hide it. Behind her, the stranger called out.  “Wha?  Wha?” He had been murmuring aloud since she and Marble had brought him inside.  But it now seemed that all his murmurs now took on the inflections of questions.  He would no doubt wake up with many questions, and he was probably now struggling to reach consciousness. Limestone decided to help him along.  She lay down beside him and whispered in his ear, “If you can hear me, please know that you are in a safe place.” The stranger seemed to grin, and said, “I am dreaming that a beautiful mare is whispering in my ear.” Limestone blushed, and the heat at her cheeks exceeded that from the fireplace.  She forged on.  “Only part of that is true.  You aren’t dreaming, and I’m not actually that…” “What?  Huh?  Hey!”  The stranger tried to sit up with a start. Limestone gently pushed him back down.  She was sure she could hold him with just a hoof on his breast bone. “Stop that.” she whispered.   “I know you are going to wake up disoriented.  But I need you to stay calm and relaxed.  I meant it when I said you were safe, and it’s important that you believe me.  I can’t have you thrashing about” The stranger’s smile seemed to turn into a wicked leer.  “The beautiful mare now has me pinned to the floor.  I wonder what comes next?  Woo Hoo!” Limestone recoiled, but still held him down.  Between the embarrassment and her anger she could feel heat all the way to her hooves.  “Since you’re hurt I’ll forgive that fresh remark this time.  Just this time!  Now lie still.” “What?  Wait, are you real?  Oh, Ma’am, I’m sorry!  I’m so sorry…!” “Stop it, just stop it.”  Limestone continued to hold him down.  “Just be still.  And when you think you’re calm enough, try to open your eyes.” The stranger’s eyes did pop open, then closed, then slowly opened again.  He focused on Limestone.  “Hello, Ma’am.  What’s your name?” “I… I’m…” Limestone wasn’t expecting that.  She was ready for ‘What happened?’ and ‘Where am I?’  but it never occurred to her that she’d rise to the fore of the stranger’s attention.  To her complete surprise, she blurted, “My friends call me Blinky.” “Blinky?”  The stranger stared at her.  “Okay.  It doesn’t fit you, but okay.  Hello, Blinky.  Thank you for rescuing me.” “You’re welcome.”  Limestone struggled to come up with the next thing to say.  “I guess we both have a lot of questions.  It’s my turn.  What’s your name?” “I…” the stranger began, then stopped dead.  “I don’t know.  I can’t remember.”