The evening breeze was cool beneath Wild’s gray wings as he glided easily over the city of Whinnyapolis, his features broken in a wide smile as he felt the air teasing his feathers and coat. Purely on a whim he gave his wings a sharp pump, tilting them opposite directions and throwing himself into a tightly controlled barrel roll, completing one revolution before flaring his wings and leveling out. His heart felt as light as his wings tonight, and he couldn’t help giving in to his impulses when he felt so good. A few pony-lengths away from him Shooting Star cleared his throat, but when Wild Wings looked at him the other stallion wore a small smile.
“You really are in quite a mood tonight, aren’t you,” he said, his voice quiet. “I guess you really didn’t need me to come along.”
Wild laughed lightly, but he gave Shooter a very grateful smile. “Shooting Star, you know very well that I wouldn’t be here without you… and you also know better than anypony just how nervous I am.” That much was true, at least; in spite of the happiness he felt at the upcoming conversation with Thistledown, the nervousness that lurked in his stomach kept lurching up into his throat. After all, there was no guarantee that Thistledown would want to give a relationship with him a chance, and the thought that she might reject him after all this haunted him.
But his heart knew the truth; that regardless of what happened, he wouldn’t have changed this for the world- knowing that he had followed his heart and really tried with Thistle made all the difference, even if she ended up shooting him down in flames.
Not that the prospect of being shot down in flames is really super appealing… he admitted.
The sun was sinking lower in the sky now, the end of a very long day for Wild Wings finally coming to a close. He hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything all day, and had quickly fallen back on the one thing that he knew would keep his attention: bothering Shooter. He had left his own small house in Canterlot and gone to Shooter’s equally small house nearer to the castle, knocking incessantly on his door at a decidedly uncivilized hour until the blue Pegasus had relented and let him in. After a quick cup of coffee, Wild had explained what had happened before insisting that Shooter not only keep him company the rest of the day but also accompany him to Whinnyapolis that evening. “To make sure I don’t chicken out,” he insisted… but deep down Wild knew just how much he wanted his friend along with him. The rest of the day had been spent following Shooting Star around Canterlot on errands, making snarky comments and generally being Wild Wings, but Shooter had taken it like he always did- with a roll of the eyes and a shake of his head- and in spite of all the annoying antics that Wild had caused throughout the day, Shooter had still come with him tonight.
After everything we’ve been through… who knew that it would be him lending me a cup of confidence. Wild glanced at his friend again and thanked whoever was listening for letting him be friends with Shooter. This moment was going to happen because of Shooting Star, and Wild wanted his best friend to be there, no matter which way things went. He had come to rely on the other Pegasus more than he would admit, and he needed Shooter here with him.
Shooting Star gave him an encouraging nod before turning his eyes to the horizon. “Well, it’s getting close to time,” he said, gesturing forward with a hoof. “Lead the way, Wild.”
The gray Pegasus grinned again. “With pleasure.” The deep orange of the autumn sun flashed across his pinion feathers as he tilted his wings and slid away into the evening sky towards the peaceful city below. He held his turn as the world rose up to meet him, tilting just slightly more to turn the slope into a gentle spiral downwards. Wild scanned the city carefully, his red eyes sweeping the streets, trying to find a familiar landmark that would take him where he needed to be. Finally, he spied the ice cream shop where he had taken Honeysuckle; his wings gave a mighty flap and sent him careening north from there, along the route that Honey had indicated to him the day before.
Despite all of his excitement, despite Shooting Star’s presence and support, as they closed in on Thistledown’s house Wild’s anxiety began to get the better of him, and his heart rose in his throat. He felt that same familiar feeling that had assailed him the day before when he had first seen Thistle again; that horrible, sinking feeling like he was falling into a never-ending abyss, unable to fly away and unable to save himself. The feeling that all of this was futile- that this was just a stupid game and that he should give up and save everypony a huge amount of trouble. His chest tightened as he felt the uncertainty rise higher, threatening to sweep him away and send him flying the other direction.
Then a memory flitted across his mind; the memory of the look he’d seen on Thistledown’s face that night in the garden. That simple, bashful smile illuminated by Luna’s full moon, and those sparkling green eyes that had haunted him for months… and the uncertainty fell away like a good molt, leaving behind a single, firm thought that made him smile roguishly.
I want to see that smile again.
THAT was what drove him, now. Not curiosity, not determination, not courage… but the simple desire to see Thistledown smile again- and he would do whatever he needed to see it again.
Finally, Wild caught sight of Thistledown’s house, and everything else fell away as he turned and landed neatly in the street out front. He rustled his wings briskly and glanced up at Shooting Star, who settled next to him silently. The blue Pegasus met Wild’s eyes, gave him a slight nod and gestured towards the door with an arched eyebrow. Wild Wings grinned slightly and turned towards the door, hesitating only slightly before ascending the short flight of stairs that stood before Thistle’s house. He took a deep breath as he reached the top, raised a hoof, and knocked firmly.
He waited several moments, but no sounds came from inside. They probably didn’t hear me, he thought, so he knocked again, his hoof hitting the wooden door just a little harder than the last time. After all, didn’t want to make it seem like he was breaking in or anything.
He waited a few more minutes… and still no answer.
Wild frowned before knocking again a bit more forcefully. “Thistledown??” he called, leaning to the side to peer in through the home’s front windows. Inside, the house was dark, with no lights on and no signs of movement… and the Pegasus suddenly got a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“Thistledown..??” he called again, pounding his hoof on the door so hard that it shook in its frame. “Thistle no… please… please don’t do this…” He pounded on it harder and harder, his teeth grinding together as his eyes went from the door to the silent interior of the home and back again. “Thistledown!! Please, answer the door!” he begged.
A hoof landed gently on his shoulder but he shrugged it off, redoubling his efforts against the stupid, stupid door. “THISTLE!” he shouted, his voice suddenly thick in his throat. “Please… open the door…” He felt his eyes begin to burn as his knocking became slamming, and he managed to leave several perfect semi-circles in the wooden door before the hoof on his shoulder returned much more insistently, yanking him back away from the door and spinning him towards the pony who owned the hoof.
Wild stared up at Shooting Star, and the image of his friend was slightly blurry as he fought off tears. “Thistle…” he croaked; at least, he was pretty sure he croaked it- his heart was hammering away in his ears so loudly that he wasn’t sure he’d actually spoken aloud. The horrible feeling in his stomach seemed to expand, sending tendrils of nausea and anger into his body as Shooting Star sighed and shook his head slightly.
“Wild… I don’t think she’s here,” he said gently.
“But… b-but she said that she’d be here,” Wild insisted. “She said we… we were going to talk… she wanted to talk about us…”
Shooter closed his eyes and sighed, and when he met Wild’s eyes again they were full of sadness and sympathy. “I know what she said, Wild… but she’s not here.”
The gray Pegasus stared at his friend, his mind floundering as he tried to grasp what had just happened. But… if Thistle’s not here… then she really didn’t want to talk…? That didn’t make any sense… why would she set this up only to NOT show up?! And set it at her house, no less! Why not just tell him NO right then, and be done with it?!
He could feel the anger pulsing inside him; it flared up around his heart and began to fill him, the flames of it licking his shoulders, his neck and face until it began to hum in his ears as he stared at Shooting Star, trying to make sense of the situation. How could she do this to him… didn’t she know what she meant to him..?
“Ahem.”
Somehow, the simple sound of somepony clearing their throat snapped Wild Wings back to reality. He blinked, and the tears that had been building in his eyes spilled over and down his cheeks; he hastily wiped a hoof across his face, hoping that he got at least most of the offending substance before turning towards the noise. On the steps of the home next to them stood an older earth pony mare; she wore her white mane tied up in a bun and wore wide glasses, but the violet eyes that stared at the two Pegasi over the top of the lenses were as sharp as nails and filled with more than a little suspicion.
“Is there any particular reason,” the mare began, her voice smooth but strong, “that two young stallions such as yourselves would be banging on the door of a young mare’s home? I’m sure you noticed, but Thistledown is out right now.”
Wild cleared his throat and stepped away from Shooting Star, trying his best to regain control of his raging emotions. “Um, y-yes ma’am, there most certainly is a reason. Thistledown asked me to visit her this evening, but… a-as you said, she does not appear to be home… and…” A wave of anger and despair swept over the stallion again, and he was forced to stop talking as he swallowed, trying to keep his voice from shaking.
Luckily for him, Shooting Star stepped forward. “We’re friends of Thistledown,” he explained. “She asked us over for dinner, but-,”
The elderly mare held up a hoof, cutting the blue Pegasus off. Her expression was neutral as she looked hard at first Shooter, then at Wild, who did his best to appear reputable and not the least bit like a burglar. She’s going to call the Guard on us, he thought wretchedly. Any other time he would have been worried about his reputation among the Guards- after all, the three Generals weren’t always looked upon with fondness by the regular troops- but all he could think about right then was that if they got arrested, he wouldn’t find out what had happened to Thistledown.
The mare watched him closely for a moment, and just when Wild had decided that it may just be best to make a break for it, her expression softened; she smiled kindly at the two stallions and adjusted her glasses, her eyes never leaving Wild Wings.
“I saw you here yesterday,” she said to him. “I’ll admit, Thistledown looked most… confused when she left here last night.”
Wild felt his ears droop. “She… left last night? Right after I left..?
“Quite so. And that poor little filly of hers looked very upset. In fact,” she said, leaning down behind one of the large flower pots that adorned her porch. “Little Honeysuckle barely had time to run back and give me this before her mother hustled her off to the train station.” The mare lifted her head from behind the pots, and in her teeth she held a folded piece of paper addressed on the front in hasty scribbles to “Mr. Wings”.
Wild hurried over to her and held out a hoof, allowing the mare to deposit the note onto it. He unfolded it as fast as he could, his hooves shaking as he did so. Inside was a note as hastily scribbled as the name on the outside.
Mr. Wings,
I’m not sure what’s going on, but I heard you and Momma talking downstairs. I know she sounds angry at you but please trust me- she wants you around. We’re going to Sweet Apple Acres tonight. Please come talk to Momma.
Love, Honeysuckle.
“That little filly looked mighty upset,” the mare said again, her eyes watching Wild closely. “Just like you do,” she added. Wild Wings could only nod, and she chuckled slightly. “Well, I’m glad that you got her note. Whatever it says, I hope that you know we are all very fond of Thistle and Honey. We’ve known them a long time- ever since they moved in here before the fire.”
Wild stared down at Honeysuckle’s writing… and felt his emotions begin to right themselves, slowly but surely. She didn’t abandon you… she ran, he thought. But… she still invited you here tonight… so she didn’t PLAN on running. He glanced at Shooter, who seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he nodded meaningfully. She’s scared, Wild thought. She’s listening to her fear, just like Shooter used to. I’m such an idiot…
The older mare cleared her throat softly. “I don’t know how much you know about flowers, Mr. Wings, but let me give you some advice.” She smiled at him again. “A thistle may not be as beautiful as a rose, or as desirable, and she may have more thorns as well; but a thistle is heartier than a rose, and can weather adversity and strife with resilience that a rose could never hope to have.” She nodded. “If you can brave her thorns, a thistle will reward you with loyalty and strength, instead of being just another pretty face in the crowd.”
The gray Pegasus watched the mare for a long moment before smiling slightly and nodding. He could feel his anger beginning to fade, even if it didn’t vanish completely; he should have known that something like this could happen, but he hadn’t thought much about what Thistle might be feeling after he left. He had been so wrapped up in his own mind that he hadn’t thought about what may be going on in hers. And apparently there was plenty going on there. He sighed and held the note out for Shooter, who took it in his teeth and proceeded to place it into the messenger bag he carried tied to his left shoulder. He turned back to the mare and offered her another smile, this one coming easier to his lips.
“Thank you very much, ma’am. I’m sorry if we startled you.”
“Oh not at all,” the mare said, waving a hoof dismissively. “A little excitement is good for these old bones of mine. And besides, if this is what it takes for Thistle to find herself a good stallion, well, so much the better.” She gave Wild a very knowing wink, and in spite of himself the gray stallion blushed slightly. “Have a good night, the both of you,” she said, and with a final nod to them both she turned and went back into her home, shutting the door behind her with a click.
Wild let out a heavy sigh, but even before he could speak he felt Shooter nudge his side with his head, hard.
“What the hay, Shooter?” he snapped, shuffling on his hooves and rustling his wings irritably. “Can’t you see I’m thinking, here?”
Shooting Star nodded, but his eyes were fierce. “Yeah, I can see that. I see you standing there, thinking, when you should be in the air flying.” He glanced at the sun, then back to Wild. “If we go now, and fly like a dragon is chasing us, we can reach Ponyville before sunset.”
Wild Wings stared at him for a long moment, his mind and heart warring within him. Logic and emotion attacked each other inside him, and with each passing second he felt more and more conflicted on everything. Thistle obviously was having the same kinds of problems… did he really need to go see her right now? He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to wait a few days, see if things calmed down…
But even as he thought it he felt his heart reject it… and he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he could not spend even one more night without having this resolved.
He gave Shooting Star a small smile. “So does this mean you’re sticking around to watch the fireworks?”
The blue Pegasus shook his head slightly as he turned away and spread his wings. “No; I’ll fly with you to Ponyville, but when it comes to Thistledown, you’re on your own.” He glanced back at Wild and nodded.
“As it should be,” Wild agreed, stepping up beside his friend. “This has to happen between her and I… for better or worse.”
Shooter watched him closely for a moment before giving his wings a flap and launching himself into the air, and Wild followed him into the sky, his mind racing as he rose… but one thought surfaced above them all.
Princess Luna… please be with me.
~*~*~*~*~*~
The sun was hanging low in the western sky, casting a soft orange glow over the town of Ponyville as Thistledown slowly picked her way through the market, the basket in her mouth half-full of odds and ends that she had found. Most of the vendors were beginning to pack up what was left of their wares, but they were all more than happy to let Thistle browse the remainders of their stock in hopes that they may not have anything to put away, at all. Thistle poked and prodded through leftover apples, peaches, pears, kiwis, and kumquats, as well as various odds and ends such as can openers, mixing spoons and shelving units. It seemed like even though Ponyville was a good deal smaller than Whinnyapolis she would be able to find everything that she could ever want or need here.
Well… almost everything.
With a smile at the cream-colored mare behind the stall Thistle leaned down and sniffed the last few roses and lilies that sat in their baskets. In truth, Sweet Apple Acres had been very well stocked when she arrived, and they didn’t even need anything from the market… but after the night before, Thistledown’s mind had needed something else to occupy its time, so when Honeysuckle had asked if she could run off and play with her friends at their clubhouse, Thistle had leaped at the opportunity to spend some time by herself.
“These are beautiful,” she commented to the mare behind the stall, giving her a nod of respect. “I can never get my roses to bloom so perfectly.”
The mare smiled happily. “Well, they don’t call me Roseluck for nothing!” she chirped.
Thistledown giggled softly. “Yes, well, you do an incredible job, Miss Roseluck. They are so gorgeous.”
Roseluck nodded. “They’re my pride and joy. Would you like one?”
“Oh, no thank you. Roses are…” Thistledown hesitated. Roses are for when you’re in love, she’d almost said. Immediately, her mind went to Wild Wings, and all of the time she’d spent out of the house trying to distract herself seemed to evaporate in an instant, and all the worry and fear that had swept her away the night before came flowing back, though thankfully not as strongly as it had been.
She had awoken that morning unsure of where she was- a testament to how hurried and emotionally driven her flight to Sweet Apple Acres had been. She had tossed and turned most of the night, and when the sun had finally risen it had taken her several moments to realize that she wasn’t at home, and another moment or two to remember why she wasn’t at home. The guilt she had felt was almost enough to pack poor Honeysuckle back up and get back on the train.
Almost.
Thistledown sighed and shook her head. “I mean… no thank you, Roseluck. They are beautiful, but I will pass for now.” Honeysuckle had been distraught during the train ride and barely any better during the morning, eating her breakfast in tearful silence even when Thistledown had tried to talk to her about all the fun things she would get to do in Ponyville that weekend. Thistle’s heart ached at the memory of her daughter’s green eyes staring down into her cereal, sadness so deep in them that the mare was almost convinced she was looking into her own eyes, and not Honey’s. It hadn’t been until Apple Bloom had gotten up and suggested they visit her friends Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo that Honeysuckle had finally brightened, and Thistledown had told her that she could stay out until sundown with her friends… hoping that the filly would forgive her for what she’d done.
The purple mare nodded to Roseluck again and was turning to leave when the other mare’s voice stopped her.
“Wait just a moment,” she said gently. Thistle hesitated, turning inquisitive eyes back to the other earth pony, who trotted around the stall and picked up one of the smaller roses of the bunch. Its petals were open just slightly in a perfect round bud, and as Thistle watched Roseluck nipped the stem off close to the base of the flower with her teeth, heedless of the thorns that threatened to prick her lips. It was obvious to Thistledown that Rose had done this many times before, and her expertise was clear as the other mare leaned up and touched her mane gently with her muzzle before pulling back, minus the rose. Thistledown lifted a hoof to her right ear, where the rosebud was tucked behind it into her emerald locks.
Roseluck smiled gently at her, her dark, grass-green eyes reflecting unspoken sympathy. “Roses are for everything,” she said. “Not just love. They are love, certainly, but they are also remembrance, friendship and, my personal favorite, hope.” Her smile brightened, and Thistledown couldn’t help but smile along with the other mare. “Whatever’s going on in your life, miss, I know things will look up. Never lose hope!”
Thistledown nodded gratefully, her eyes feeling suddenly warm. “Thank… thank you, Miss Roseluck,” was all she could say. The other mare simply nodded happily and returned to her stall where she began busying herself with putting her flowers away for the night.
The purple mare watched her for a few more seconds then picked up her basket and moved off down the street towards Sweet Apple Acres, content that for the moment she would have some time to think about the whole situation, and that perhaps some hope could indeed be found… if Wild would ever want to talk to her again after this.
She winced as she thought about what must have happened earlier that day when he had shown up at her home; she felt a terrible twisting sensation in her stomach as she thought of Wild’s face, contorted in confusion and anger and sadness. That was the reason she had almost hurried back to Whinnyapolis; the very thought of breaking him as she had been broken was horrifying… but what could she do? She dropped her eyes to the ground as she walked, her shame rising in her throat. Her fear had driven her here, and she couldn’t just yank Honeysuckle back and forth like a ragdoll; her decision had been made, and she had to abide by it... but that didn’t mean she liked it. What is going to happen now? she wondered.
And, as with all of the scariest things in life, the answer simply refused to wait.
The sound of flapping wings drew her attention from the ground up into the sky to the west, into the setting sun. Above her a dark shape passed, a pair of huge blue wings sweeping over her and hurrying off into the distance towards the center of town… but that was not what made Thistledown’s chest squeeze as if she were in a grape press.
From out of the sunset dropped Wild Wings, his gray wings stained orange and red in the twilight, his eyes locked on hers… and the hurt there was worse than she could have ever imagined. She found herself short of breath, and against her will tears sprang to her eyes even before either of them could speak. All of the emotions from the day before came roiling back, twisting and bubbling through her heart as he rustled his wings and tucked them neatly against his sides… everything except the anger. She wasn’t mad at him, anymore; she realized how foolish her anger had been, but that didn’t take away her fear- a fear that threatened to dominate her, to set her hooves into motion and cause her to run away yet again.
But something tempered her fear; something unexpected, something that she had longed to feel ever since she had seen his face again a little over a day ago, something that fate had drawn from the lips of a mare in the street and placed into her mane and her heart: Hope.
The two ponies looked at one another for several long, awkward moments, until finally, setting the basket down by her hooves, Thistledown broke the silence.
“Wild Wings,” she said, proud that her voice trembled only slightly.
“…Thistledown,” he said, nodding to her politely, his red eyes staring into her.
Thistle tried to maintain her composure, but the hope in her was rising and sparking off other emotions that were quickly threatening to sweep her away in a very different way. He came to find me… he came to talk to me even after what I did… She felt her heart swell, and a tear found its way down her cheek as she fought to keep her voice level.
“So… what brings you out to Ponyville?” she asked casually.
To her surprise, Wild’s eyes filled with anger and pain. “Thistle, let’s not beat around the bush, okay?” He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again his voice was hard and quiet. “You KNOW why I’M here. The bigger question is- why are YOU here?”
Thistle frowned, and felt herself stand a little taller. His tone was accusatory, and while he had every right to be angry… Thistledown was not a mare who took that tone well.
“Well… I came to visit Applejack,” she said simply.
“And?” he said, his voice tight.
“And to let Honeysuckle visit her friends,” she said. She could feel the walls of her heart rising again; she didn’t know why she was fighting the issue he was trying to raise, but it was happening.
“And what else,” he prompted.
“And… and I’m quite sure I don’t need to explain myself to-,”
“No, Thistle,” he said sharply, cutting her off. “That is EXACTLY what-,” his voice cracked slightly, and so did Thistle’s resolve, but after a moment he continued, the frustration and desperation clear in his words. “That is exactly what you need to do right now. I don’t… I don’t think you realize what this is doing to me, Thistledown!” His voice rose slightly as he started to pace in the street, drawing the few eyes left in the market. “You told me that you would be there… and then I GET there and find that you ran away?? Running and hiding from me?!” He opened his mouth to continue, but suddenly his eyes widened, and his wings, which had extended as he’d gotten more and more upset, retracted slightly. “No… not running from me.”
Thistledown blinked hard and took a shaky breath. Please don’t…
“You’re not hiding from me. You’re hiding from you. Hiding from yourself… running away from your own feelings because you’re scared!” He took a step closer to her, his eyes a jumble of emotions. “Thistledown… I… all I’ve been trying to tell you these last two days is that I love you, and that I’m willing to throw everything, everything that I’ve got in this world away to be with you… and all you can do is RUN!” To her surprise, tears formed at the edges of his brilliant red eyes. “How long, Thistledown?? How long are you going to run, huh?” He took another step towards her, and his voice dropped to a harsh whisper, clogged with emotion. “How long… are you going to let the memories of Honey’s father keep you from being happy?”
Thistle felt a snap in her mind, and before she could even think her hoof was flying, connecting solidly with the left side of Wild Wing’s face, sending his head jerking the other direction and causing him to stumble slightly.
The earth pony mare blinked in horror as Wild raised his own hoof to his face, where a hoof-shaped mark was beginning to form. By Celestia… what did I just do..?! The hope she’d felt in her chest withered and died as Wild looked at her, tears on his cheeks, his eyes full of the most profound sadness she had ever seen. Thistledown opened her mouth, but only a sob came out. Her shoulders slumped, and suddenly everything was more than she could bear; the fear, the horror, the elation and soaring feelings that she had when he’d said he loved her… everything came crashing down around her head, and there was only one solution. She turned and started to run, run as fast as her legs could carry her, leaving behind the basket, her pride… and any hope that she had for the future.
Behind her, Wild Wings watched her run, his heart aching almost as much as his head.
“Well… a-all right, then…” he said softly. Without another word he turned the opposite direction and started to walk out of town towards Canterlot, his wings drooping almost to the ground.