//------------------------------// // The Bramble // Story: Baser Instinct // by Styrofoam //------------------------------// The next morning, Spike woke up twenty minutes late. The result of this was a lecture from Twilight about the importance of being punctual--which ironically delayed him about fifteen minutes more. His old basket was both safely and shamefully concealed underneath his bed. Spike had felt more than a little uncomfortable about lying to Twilight (especially since she had the tendency to find out about everything anyway). He would have to tell her sooner or later, but he supposed it would have to be later. The library was opening soon, and there was little time to get ready. Twenty-five minutes later, with teeth brushed, scales buffed, and looking extraordinarily handsome—in Spike’s completely unbiased opinion of course—the purple dragon arrived downstairs. There in the kitchen sat Twilight, frowning over a scroll with her usual coffee and oats by her side. “Not so good news?” Spike asked, while cutting himself a few slices of bread. Twilight groaned. “Guess not.” Spike mumbled to himself. “No, that's not it,” Twilight shook her head. “The news is not as bad as it is annoying. Since Shining is officially a Prince now and I’m his sister, somehow this makes me a part of the royal ‘social scene.’ Every few weeks, I get invitations to all sorts of upper class events, and every time I respond with an apology about why I wouldn’t be able to make it. It’s been years, and they keep sending these to me. When will they finally get the message?” Growled the purple unicorn. Spike rolled his eyes. Even after all of these years, adventures, and tons of friendship reports, if there were no Princess Celestia, Pinkie Pie, or any of her other friends involved, Twilight Sparkle was NOT going to a party. “Aw, come on, Twilight. You’re making a big deal about something really simple,” Spike began. This was probably going to be dangerous, but he had to say it. “Why don’t you actually go to one of these things? How could it hurt?” The dragon was about to say ‘one of these parties’ instead of ‘one of these things,’ but he didn’t want to accidentally summon a certain cotton candy pink mare. At the exact moment inside a very warm kitchen filled with the heavenly smell of freshly baked morning muffins, Pinkie Pie’s head suddenly shot up. “Hmm…” She raised a hoof and tapped her chin. “I seem to be having a case of itchy hoof today…” Then her baby blue eyes narrowed ominously. “You may have won this round, my scaly friend…Oh you silly-willy, you might stop the future, but you can never stop the party!” Pinkie Pie paused. “Wait! Or is that the other way around?” She shrugged as if to say ‘Oh well!’ and happily bounced off. Now it was Twilight’s turn to sigh. “How could it hurt? You know, we’re on a tight schedule here with the library, Spike. And what if Princess Celestia needs me? I have to be here! What if something goes wrong again? I couldn’t have that on my conscious.” She took a gulp of what was left of her coffee and closed a bag of owl treats which had been left open for Owlowiscious the evening before. “Well, let me have that invitation so I’ll get a chance to go out in a while. Jeez, I mean, this is almost like Moondancer’s par--” However, the dragon was unfortunately interrupted by the door of the library bursting open and releasing a flood of small woodland creatures. Spike and Twilight said nothing as various species of animals all began to squeak and crow all at once. Honestly, between Discord, parasprites, dragons, and Pinkie Pies, these kinds of random events in Ponyville were almost expected. “Oh dear… Oh dear…” a gentle voice murmured as a delicate yellow pegasus galloped inside. “I’m so terribly sorry, Twilight. I think my animal friends all got a little too excited while heading over here.” “N-no problem, Fluttershy…” Twilight replied with a rather painful smile. “Oh, no really. I do so hate being a bother, but I need your help and--” The yellow pegasus was suddenly distracted by a red woodpecker intent on transforming Twilight’s interior walls into Swiss cheese. “Oh no. Please stop, Mr. Woody. It’s not nice to make holes in other ponies’ houses.” If Spike had less self-preservation, he would have burst into laughter at the way Twilight’s right eye began to twitch uncontrollably. He really didn’t want her to notice how three mice were playing hot-potato with one of her inkwells in the corner. “I’m really sorry, Twilight. We are being a bother, aren’t we?” Fluttershy could barely keep a tremor from her voice. Her soft pink mane fell down to hide her face. “No…no…” Twilight lied, placing a forearm comfortingly on Fluttershy’s shoulder. “It’s alright, Fluttershy. We-we were thinking about putting in another window soon anyway, right Spike?” Spike nodded vigorously. “However, I have to ask why you are here so early?” Fluttershy abruptly stood up, accidentally knocking Twilight onto her back. “Goodness, I hope I’m not too late! Oh Fluttershy, how could you forget the reason you’re here?” She shifted one wing from her buttercream side to reveal a small squirmy body. With the dexterity and gentleness of an experienced nurse, she picked up the creature by her teeth and settled him carefully onto a rug. “Wow, what happened, Fluttershy?” Spike asked, kneeling over the convulsing squirrel. The other creatures quietly began to back away—all except Angel Bunny, who sat by Fluttershy’s side, glaring at everypony as if everypony was at fault for this. “I-I don’t know. I found him yesterday a few canterlengths from my house. The bite wound he has looks like it’s from a v-vermicious knid… Bites from those are very serious, so I carried him to my house right away! I did everything I knew to help Mr. Squirrel, but nothing worked. I didn’t know how to h-help him, but then Angel reminded me of you and the library… Oh, he is in s-so much pain. I-I couldn’t b-bear to watch…” Her large aqua eyes sparkled with tears at this point. “A vermicious knid?!” Twilight’s eyes widened, suddenly on her hooves again. “Those are really dangerous, venomous, magical creatures! If one ever comes to Ponyville, Celestia knows how many ponies may be hurt!” “Oh, come on, Twi!” Spike blurted out. “There are no vermicious knids here!” “And how would you know that?” Twilight snapped. Spike averted his eyes. He could not exactly explain how he knew that there were no vermicious knids hiding in the shadows. That foggy section of his mind let him know that no other predator would come within a hundred canterlengths of Ponyville or Sweet Apple Acres while he lived here, now that he had gotten to a size where he somewhat mattered. It was a mutual exchange: no creature entered his grounds, and Spike did likewise. Everything would remain perfectly fine unless some creature suddenly decided to expand its territory, and who knows what would happen then? Spike had secretly read many books on the subject, and so far he knew it wouldn’t be pretty. Still, Spike wondered how Twilight would react if she knew of his strange awareness of the whereabouts of other creatures. Probably she would strap some contraption on his head and study him. “Spike…” Twilight sighed. “I know you may think that everything is fine, but we need to know for sure. Why don’t you look up some information about the venom of vermicious knids while I look up spells on how to detect them.” Spike almost countered before biting back his retort and heading off to the magical creature section of the library. Many birds, deer, and other small mammals hurriedly scampered out of his path. His mind wondered if they too could sense the predator-territory thing—maybe not, as he thought back to poor Mr. Squirrel suffering on the library floor. He was pretty sure Mr. Squirrel would have gone the other way if he had sensed that a vermicious knid was coming. What concerned him was that the vermicious knid had sensed Spike and had itself gone the other way. A little after noon, Spike found himself trailing behind Rarity through the streets of Ponyville. His mind was all a jumble: one section of his brain worried itself over his upcoming confrontation with Davenport Inkfeather, the owner of Quills and Sofas, while another made him shift his eyes on everything around him but the mare walking in front. Whatever had happened yesterday he would make sure that it wouldn’t be repeated. “Ah, here we are!” Rarity exclaimed. Spike looked up in surprise to see that they were indeed standing before Quills and Sofas. Had his mind been that occupied not to notice this? “If you want, Spikey, I can speak for you although I am quite surprised you didn’t have Twilight join you.” Spike almost laughed out loud. If he had told Twilight about this, Quills and Sofas’ new name would be Lit Match and Gasoline. Davenport himself would most likely be transmuted into something that would be easy to squash under a hoof. “It’s fine, Rarity. I can speak for myself.” To his surprise, the white unicorn nodded once in calm acceptance before pushing open the door. The interior of the store was populated by sofas all lined up in various shapes, sizes, and colors. A beige earth stallion with a brown mane was busy sweeping behind the counter. He quickly looked up when he heard the bell above the mantel jingle. “Miss Rarity…” he cooed. “It’s only been a day. Surely you haven’t run out of quills already? You have, haven’t you, or maybe you’ve come back to see little old-” His green eyes widened as he saw Spike beside her. “…me.” “No, Mr. Davenport,” Rarity replied coolly. “I’m afraid I am not here to purchase any of your merchandise. My friend here, however, might be interested.” Davenport’s eyes darted from one stony face to the other as if to decipher whether this was all a joke. Unfortunately, this was not. “I think I already told your friend that I am fresh out of quills yesterday,” the beige stallion replied. “And shipment schedules are wholly unreliable, so--” “Oh that’s okay,” Spike interrupted with an unnervingly toothy smile. “I didn’t come here for quills at all. I’m looking for a sofa.” “A-a SOFA?” Davenport gasped. “B-but darling, didn’t we come here for--” Rarity started, but Spike quickly put a talon to his lips. Thinking back, maybe he should’ve told her exactly what he was going to do. “As I was saying, I want to buy a sofa. The one at home is really getting old—not good atmosphere for when company comes over, you know? Hmm…” The dragon squinted as he gazed over the sea of sofas. “How about that one?” He pointed to a powdered blue two-seater with ridiculously overstuffed pillows. “T-t-that one?” Davenport stammered. “I-I believe that one has already been sold. Sold to a kindly old gentlestallion in fact.” “Too bad…” Spike murmured. “Well, how about that one?” He tilted his head towards a large red sofa. “That one has been sold also, I’m afraid.” Davenport smiled. “This one?” “That one was bought by a little old mare, the poor thing.” “Uh…how about that one?” “Ooo… That sofa is being used to stop that loose floorboard over there from squeaking.” “Jeez…” Spike sighed. He then threw himself back on a nearby black and white sofa. “I didn’t know that Quills and Sofas had so many sales. You’re really raking in the dough, aren’t you? I guess the one I’m lying on is sold too?” The owner of Quills and Sofas only smiled. “Yes, indeed, it is.” “Well that’s too bad. I kinda like this sofa.” Spike bounced up and down a little. “It’s really comfortable. If it hadn’t already been sold, this could’ve been my molting sofa. Hey Davenport, do you know what molting is?” The beige stallion suddenly looked rather frightened. “Er…no… I really don’t.” “Molting is when your new scales grow under your old scales, and of course your old scales have to come off to make room for the new ones, so you get to peel off your old ones. Sounds like fun, huh?” The dragon looked over to see Davenport leaning back with an expression of utmost horror. Even Rarity behind him looked a little green, and Spike felt sorry that she had been present to hear this. However, he had to finish what he’d started. “The thing is that since all of the old skin has to come off, it takes a really long time. I used to do it by hand, but one year I found out that if I just roll myself back and forth on another object, like a sofa, the whole thing would be over with much faster. Ever since then, I’ve had my molting sofa—guess you can see why my sofa now doesn’t look so hot, right?” Davenport’s ear was now twitching. “And guess what the—oh, what is this?” The dragon held up something translucent that shone a faint purple. “Oh look, I think it’s one of my scales.” Davenport’s eyes widened. “Oh no, oh no, oh no….” “Hey, here goes another one! I guess it’s that time of the year already.” “Please, please, get off my sofa, dragon. Please, get off my sofa…” The owner of Quills and Sofas was pleading with him now. “Hey Davenport, do you think I can have a favor just this once? Do you think I could just…right here on this sofa? I swear I’ll clean up afterwards, I promise-” But this was too much for the stallion. He galloped forward to buck Spike right off the sofa before the dragon neatly ducked out the way, leaving the stallion to overshoot his target and faceplant himself straight onto the opposite wall. “You-you insolent creature!” he screamed, face bright red and mane a twisted mess. “Get off of my property this instant or so help me Celestia I will go out and fetch the city constable!” “I will gladly get off this thing…” Spike hissed. “…the second you tell me the reason why you lie and refuse to sell to me! I’m a paying customer just like anypony else.” Both males were beet red and standing barely a canterlength away from one another, both huffing angrily. Rarity, who had long since gone into a false faint, now had one blue eye open and watching in rapt attention. Davenport groaned and stamped his hoof in frustration. “Like anypony else… Oh come on, really? Has..?” He turned to Rarity, who was now standing, and pointed a hoof. “You, you there, aren’t you a halfling? Wasn’t your father an earth pony? You should’ve explained things to this creature.” Rarity gulped in surprise. “Moi? I-I don’t know anything about this!” “Of course,” Davenport drawled, a heavy note of annoyance in his voice. “The old ways aren’t taught anymore. It’s sad, really. Generations are born and raised with no clue about the true history of their ancestors. Do you know who were the first to tame the land of Equestria? Well, it surely wasn’t the unicorns, those sissy coneheads who kept to the region around Canterlot, and it definitely wasn’t the pegasi—as long as they had the sky, who cared about what happened down here on the surface? No, it was the earth ponies. We were the ones who had to beat back the hideous monsters of this world to grow food for us all.” The stallion smiled. “We were strong in those days. We had to be to defeat timberwolves, griffins, cockatrices, minotaurs, and yes…even dragons. We all had to do this without the use of horns and wings—and that is what made us stronger.” “Everything was going well for a time—before the Princesses came. When they arrived, they suddenly wanted integration, stronger ties between tribes. Well, we earth ponies remembered The Great Cold, and we agreed to this. After all, unicorns and pegasi were still ponies… But the Princesses didn’t just mean integration among ponies. Soon we had strangers from Donkonia and Minotaurus and other strange lands walking amongst us. Imagine how we reacted with these hideous beings suddenly existing all around us, trying to fellowship with us with their strange ways? Of course, riots broke out. Till this day, I don’t understand why the Princesses didn’t expect it.” “They had to intervene, however,” Davenport sighed. “So, we were forced to accept these strangers into or midst. Years flew by, and most of us began to accept the new way of life imposed by the Princesses. However, there were a few who did not. These were the Few who remembered the glory of the olden days. You wouldn’t believe what they had introduced into society by then; by then ponies had debased themselves in the madness. There were now mules, zebrulas, and…other abominations that I shall not name. The Few debated concerning what to do about this disgusting turn of events, before they came up with the simple farmer’s way.” The beige stallion turned toward Spike and Rarity. “Do you know the simple farmer’s way of getting rid of a bramble that is destroying your garden?” “That is it! I will not stand to listen to this outdated nonsense any longer!” Rarity cried. “You, sir…” She growled, stomping up to the taller stallion. “You, sir, are THE most abominable and disgusting stallion I’ve ever had the displeasure in meeting.” With a startlingly loud smack, she slammed her hoof across his cheek. “You are the bramble…” she whispered. “And you are one of the most beautiful halflings I’ve ever come across,” Davenport grinned, while rubbing his rapidly darkening cheek. “The only pity is the deformity you have on your forehead.” Spike could feel Rarity’s light blue magic dragging him across the floor of the shop. He struggled against it, but he concluded that Rarity was like Twilight in the way that strong emotion must give her magic a boost. He couldn’t grasp his feelings. In one second, he felt like tearing his claws into everything in that store, and in the next he wanted to be alone to vent his frustration at being once again reminded that he wasn’t normal—that he wasn’t a pony, or anything even resembling a pony. In his haze, Spike found that, incredibly, Davenport was still speaking. “The farmer’s way of getting rid of a bramble is simple,” the stallion began. “You have to isolate it from the crops it wishes to corrupt, and you have to cut off its food and water supply. Soon it won’t be able to sustain itself. Look around you, dragon, and count how many zebrula you see around town today.” Davenport stopped and suddenly sighed. “You know, I don’t hate you, dragon—if indeed you believe that. The fact is that you are the bramble and this town is the crop. You’ve already destroyed it once. Can’t you see that my selling to you is like my encouraging you to be here? It would be my way of sustaining you, and as the good farmer, I just can’t do that.” In all but a second, Spike felt Rarity’s immobilizing magic release him. He was outside again, in the middle of the street. He was numb, but in more ways than one. To the side of him, Spike heard the snuffling noises one makes when one cries and yet is trying not to cry. He mechanically reached in for a hug but was brushed aside. “N-not in public,” Rarity sniffed. “A l-lady never…” Then, with incredible effort, she straightened up and flicked away much of the excess moisture from her face, looking amazingly almost the same as before she had ever set foot inside Quills and Sofas that day. “However, if you still want to talk, I promptly invite you to tea. Come along please.”