An eerie silence fell between the two young ponies. One of them decided not to speak, for fear of bursting into tears once again, as he had barely been able to hold back the ones that were there, end even then some snuck through. The other orange equine was shocked numb by what she had heard, and was currently searching herself for something to say.

After the silence became more oppressive than Scootaloo’s shock, she found something to say. Simple, yet it worked.

Pyrus mentally shook himself and prepared to continue. After choking trying to swallow sadness, which tasted like tears, he spoke again.

“I… I was shocked. Dumbfounded. I Pushed past Pile Drive and ran down the stairs to see if Scribbles was ok. At one point I tripped, and rolled down the stairs. I was in such a hurry that I got right back up, hardly noticing at all that I had even fallen. I definitely felt that one later... Anyway, when I got to the bottom, the Royal Guards had already taped off the area, and they wouldn’t let me wake her up.

“I couldn’t believe she was gone, so I didn’t. I refused to accept that she had just died. I shut myself in my room, and I waited for her to knock and come in and tell me everything was okay. I didn’t eat, I hardly drank anything, and sleep was out of the question. Even when I tried, all I saw was her falling, over and over again.

“I don’t know how long I was in there; all I know is that by the time I was out, I understood that she wasn’t coming back. By then, I had realized that she had not fallen but that she had been pushed. That didn’t sit well with me. Not at all.
“
I knew Jailbird, he was a large, slate-gray pegasus that lived in our neighborhood, and was often the leader in the robbing of shops, mugging of ponies that strayed in, and my personal torment. Even as a young colt, he had already been arrested twice, and managed to get out on ‘good behavior’ which was probably him threatening or bribing some jail guard to let him out.

“I knew where he lived, and I knew where his gang hung out. There was only one thing left for me to do.

“I wanted revenge. Badly. And he was my target. I spent the next few days getting ready. I knew I was small, and so did he. But he had yet to see, I had recently discovered that I had a small talent for fire magic. Nothing cutie-mark sized, but I still knew quite a bit about what fire magic did and how to use it. So I practiced. I sat in the smudge of concrete that was considered a back yard, and I practiced. I made fire, set things on fire, and even at one point caused a small explosion, though I don’t remember how. After a while, I was ready.

“I set off to the alley that Jailbird’s gang always hung out in. I knew they would be there, it was a Saturday, and they always were there whenever there wasn’t school. I won’t lie, I was a little scared. I had come not to care about myself, but the thought of what would happen if I failed still frightened me. That fear lingered in my stomach as a stomped my way into their alley.

“I could feel the eyes of 2 of Jailbird’s wingstallions, one being Pile Drive, upon me. They laughed at the look on my face, and almost passed out laughing when I demanded to see Jailbird. But they brought him forward anyway. They probably though he would laugh too, and were obviously surprised when he froze, and became very quiet and almost worried. I guess he knew why I was there.

“After that is all a blur in my mind. First thing I remember is launching at him, my tiny body somehow gaining enough speed to knock him over sideways. Next thing I know, his fur is singed, his wingstallions scattered, and I have a black eye and a few bruises. I was on top of him, and angry. Things blurred again, and we had changed position. This time he was behind me, whimpering something about his wings, and I was running away from his wingstallions, who had brought about 6 ponies for back up.

“Small as I was, I was a fast runner. You learn that when you find yourself running from bigger colts every day. Also, being smaller, I could slide under some chain-link fences that my pursuers had to climb or fly over. Eventually I lost them. After that, I wandered home, trying my best to stay stealthy in case I saw another of Jailbird’s gang members again. When I got home, something entirely different caught up to me, something I didn’t expect. Now that I had gotten revenge out of my mind, there was room for depression to hit. And it hit HARD.

“I looked back on everything that had happened to me in the past week or so. Scribbles was gone, Jailbird was likely very broken, and it occurred to me that it was probably my fault. I convinced myself that it was my fault, and it didn’t take too long before I hated myself the same way I hated Jailbird. Once again, I stopped eating, and I spent most of my time sitting in silence hating myself. I used my magic to burn things some that I owned, methodically, one by one. There wasn’t much to burn, so that didn’t last very long. The very last thing I burnt was a picture. A photo of myself, just a little younger, that my mom had somehow gone insane long enough to take.

“The picture gave me an idea; a dark and terrible plan formed in my mind. it’s something I regret ever even thinking about, let alone actually going through with. I found a book in the Canterlot library that explained some of the more powerful fire magic, and I checked it out. The particular spell I wanted to do required a magic seal to be drawn on the ground. A lot of fire-based unicorn magic does.

“Three days after my encounter with Jailbird, I went through with it. I walked out into my back ‘yard’ and, using some chalk, drew a few circles like the book had said. My intention: I had decided that I needed to be in pain like Jailbird had, because Scribbles’ death was my fault.

“The spell it’s self wasn’t very complex, I just altered the seal so that the caster’s circle and target’s circle were in the same place. Sitting down, I powered up my horn and began to charge the ancient equestrian runes that were in the ground. At the same time, I began forming the spell in my head. When the runes were fully charged, I would release the spell. Simple.

“I don’t know what would have happened to me, if Jailbird didn’t take that moment to get back at me.

“He looked terrible. He climbed over my fence while Pile Drive and a few others that I didn’t know flew. When he got to the other side I understood why. His right wing looked like somepony had run over it with a truck, and his left was even worse. Both were bandaged into stiff braces; I guess with wings you can’t put them in casts. He had a look of sheer rage and malice in his eyes, and he bared his teeth to me. ‘Your turn, flankface’ was being chanted by the five large pegasi in front of me.

“I wanted to run, but I couldn’t. One does not simply interrupt or cancel a seal-based spell. Once it’s started, it MUST not be interrupted, by the caster or by outside interaction. Very bad things happen if it is.

Pyrus stopped and sighed deeply before continuing, looking outside. “Scootaloo, it’s really late, you sure you want to hear this?”

Scootaloo, absorbed in the most tragic story she had ever heard, nodded without even looking outside.

“Jailbird advanced upon me, grinning ferociously. I tried to warn him, but he was deaf to reason. I yelled over and over not to get any closer or he’d break the seal. He looked down on the ground in front of him where chalk coated the ground. He probably thought I was playing some game. ‘Oh you mean THIS seal?’ on the word seal, he pushed his hoof over the chalk, removing the thin layer on the ground.

“I lost control of the spell. It took hold of my horn, it took hold of my energy I had drained into the runes, and it took me into it’s grasp. It lifted me up into the air and released the emotional energy that I had gathered inside my horn to perform the spell. I closed my eyes hard against the stupidity of Jailbird and prepared for whatever was going to happen next. I heard a gasp, a few angry shouts, and a far off ‘no way’ from Jailbird’s crowd. The spell sucked the energy out, and the rush caused me to open my eyes. I watched as an orange aura of magical energy form around me, and I was told later that my eyes were glowing. That can happen when young unicorns lose control of spells. (I know it happened to a filly who lost control while applying for magic school).

“The aura around me gathered inward, collecting at my horn, and then exploded outward, very… forcefully. Beams of light and pillars of smokeless fire scattered in all directions around my horn, along with a pushing force that threw Jailbird against the fence, wings first. The rest of his crowd were blown away, most of them taking to the air.

“After the explosion, I collapsed to the ground. That much magic is VERY taxing, especially to a young colt who hadn’t eaten in more than a week, so I had no energy left. Such a simple spell… and I couldn’t even pull it off without messing up. Looking around, I saw Jailbird cowering against my fence, and when he saw me look at him he scrambled away in panic and presumably pain.

Pyrus was restless. He eased out of the bed and hobbled over to the mirror hanging on the wall across the room. He ran his hoof through his mane, and his eyes dropped to the ground.

“The spell changed my mane. It was black, completely, like it is now, but without the tiny stripe here. While it used to be bright orange, the spell took some sick joke and turned it black. It didn’t start developing the stripes until later, when I found my cutie mark. Ever since then the color turns with my mood. The happier I am, the more orange stripes there are, and the darker my mood the darker my mane.

“A few days later, Jailbird was arrested for murder. I didn’t talk at his trial against him, I didn’t want to, and I’d already hurt him enough. I don’t know where he is now, I never saw him again. After that I knew not to mess with magic too strong for me again, and I stuck to lighting candles and sometimes a lamp or two. My depression never really lifted until I found my mark. In many ways it still never has… my mane has never been full orange since. There is always a lingering black stripe, no matter what, like the lingering black cloud in the back of my mind, saying ‘You’ll never get her back. Never.’”
Scootaloo sat in awed silence, thinking about what she had heard. there’s more to Pyrus than I thought. He’s always been happy when I was around him, or at least in a positive mood… but after what he’s been though… how? How does he even live?

Pyrus limped his way over to Scootaloo. She was looking at his bed, with a pondering face. Her maroon eyes began to wander, until she found herself examining Pyrus’s mane, and looking into his green eyes. His right one already seemed to be doing better, despite and possibly because of the tears he had shed in the previous hours.

As she looked into them, a few thin, bright streaks ran down his mane, to accompany the first orange one. Just a few, they slowly trickled down to the tips of his mane, adding their accents to the first line. Scootaloo found this odd. Our eyes met… And his mane went a little lighter… Does that mean I made him just a little HAPPIER? But how? I didn’t even say anything…

Pyrus spoke next, his voice a little lighter. “Well, I would offer to walk you home, but I don’t think you’d get there by sunrise if I did. It’s really late. Well, early actually, but my point still stands. You should go home, your parents are probably worried.”

The fact that Pyrus didn’t know about her parents hit her like a rhinoceros. At the same time, it dawned on her just how close to dawn it really was. Resolving to tell him later, she looked at him to ask one last question.

Pyrus rolled his eyes. “I’ve been much worse. Trust me. You don’t need to stay here anymore and feel bad. I forgive you. Really.”

Content, at least content enough, Scootaloo nodded. Then she did something that surprised both of them. She jumped up a little and hugged Pyrus. Not hard, not gentle, just a simple hug. She held it for a few seconds, then turned and walked to the hall.

“That’s what friends are for, Pyrus.” she said automatically. Then Scootaloo walked away. She nodded her head thinking to herself about her last sight of Pyrus, who’s mane now bordered somewhere between black with orange stripes and orange with black stripes.

Pyrus clambered gingerly back into his hospital bed. The lamp had been extinguished, but he wasn’t ready to sleep yet. He lit a small candle he found in the bedside drawer, and levitated the quill and parchment he’d found there as well. He scrawled on the parchment, then rolled it up and lit it on fire. He then quickly extinguished the candle and rolled over to what was likely the most-needed sleep he’d ever find.

Luna’s eyes darted across the parchment that had materialized in front of her, rolled up neatly, with a pop and a little smoke. Smiling lightly, she put the note from Pyrus into the drawer she kept the other notes she got from him time to time. The contents of it repeated in her head over and over, and she looked down into the alley where he had met him. She spoke the letter aloud under her breath.

“Dear Princess Luna,
I am writing to you from the Ponyville Clinic. Don’t worry, I’m fine, I ‘m
fine. I mearly fell off of a zipline and was knocked out for a few hours.
The doctor said I’ll have to stay here for a day, but I’ll be out by the end of the weekend,
unfortunately… but, that doesn’t really bother me. As long as I don’t run out of
parchment or ink I’ll be entertained enough.

On another note, do you remember the night we first met? I’ve been thinking about it.
It’s kinda weird, really, how you came to me in a dark alley asking about a poem I accidentally burnt.
I didn’t know I could send papers by smoke back then. Anyway, I’m really writing to say
I miss you. You were possibly the only real friend I had in Canterlot for a while,
and you were the only close one. I miss you here in Ponyville. I know it’s only been a few weeks,
but the weeks fly by here.

I also have another question, come to think of it. I met a filly here. She’s orange, with a maroon mane,
she’s a pegasus, but she can’t fly. She’s a year younger than me. Her name is Scootaloo.
Long story short, she’s my newest friend. She noticed my mane, so I told her the story.
Afterwards I got really depressed like I always do when I tell that story. I’m sure
you remember when I told you that one. Anyway, I was really sad, but then I looked at her…
And I felt better. Happier. Something inside me… pulled me to her. I know it sounds odd,
it feels odd. But I was happier…

So really, I only have one question.
Do you know what love feels like, and can you tell me?

Your Poet of the Night-
Pyrus Nightwrite.”

Luna spoke to herself some more, a habit she had developed while serving her… time on the moon.

“Of course I remember when we met, Pyrus. How could I forget? If started one of the best friendships I’ve had in a long time. Also, I think I know this ‘Scootaloo,’ she was one of the fillies I had an encounter with this previous nightmare night. In response to your question, yes I know what love feels like, but as for telling you, you’ll have to wait until I can talk to you in person, such a heavy topic cannot be conveyed through a letter. I will be coming to see you some night within this next week. We’ll talk then.”

Scooter Tracks in My Life

by Pyrus Nightwrite

A Mane, Stained