Soarin's Folly

by a human

Chapter 2

Soarin flew around, practicing. The sky was blue, the air was clean, and there was a general sense of peacefulness in the world. He took a deep breath, and exhaled, taking it all in.

Then a large anvil fell from the sky and just barely missed him.

"What!? What!?" he yelled, frantically looking around. He looked up, and saw the silhouette of a pegasus fly away.

From the ground, he heard a loud thud as the anvil went straight through someone's roof.

– – – –

"So you were just flying around, minding your own business, when someone dropped an anvil on you?" the inspector said, incredulous but professional.

"Yes," Soarin got out.

"Is there anyone you can think of that has a grudge against you? Anyone you think might want you dead?"

"Not particularly," Soarin said. "Other than just the usual crazies, of course, since I'm a celebrity and all…"

"Of course," the inspector said, closing his notebook. "That's all. You can go now." He went back through the room the anvil fell through, and started talking to the owner of the house about something related to insurance, or lack thereof.

Soarin considered asking for a bodyguard, but he figured he was pushing his luck already. Better not go too far and have them find out he was straight. They wouldn't even begin to take him seriously then. Besides, he could more conveniently hire a private security agency.

He walked out of the house, dejected. He probably wasn't going to get sleep for weeks thanks to this. Who could want him dead? Or was it just a coincidence? Did they just not like that person's house…?

"Hey, hey, Soarin!" a voice said from behind him. He turned around. It was Fleetfoot, one of his teammates. She walked up to him and gave him a short, platonic hug. "I heard the news. Are you okay?"

"Physically, yes," Soarin said. "But if that anvil was a couple inches closer…"

"Don't think about it," she said. "You're alive, and that's what matters."

"I suppose you're right."

They walked down the street, away from the scene of the accident.

"Do you have any idea why?" Fleetfoot said. "Do you have any ideas who—?"

"No, none," Soarin said, shrugging. "I guess it's just some crazy fan or something."

Fleetfoot hesitated. "You didn't make Spitfire angry or anything, did you?"

Soarin laughed. "Don't be ridiculous! She wouldn't kill someone if they made her angry."

"I don't know," Fleetfoot said, beginning to look worried. "I was roommates with her once. Promiscuity aside, there's just something… off about her. You know what I mean?"

Soarin didn't, but he could see the look on Fleetfoot's face. She was serious. "Well, she seemed fine yesterday," Soarin said, thinking. "I can't think of anything I've done that could have possibly rubbed her the wrong way."

"You didn't hit on her or anything, did you?"

Soarin froze. Did she know? "Okay, now you're just being silly. Don't you know I have a huge crush on that… other… guy on the team? You know, that… what's his name? That guy. Yeah."

Fleetfoot did not look convinced. "Seriously, if you did anything to bug her, you better apologize for it. She can get pretty wound up."

"If I can figure out what I did, I certainly will," Soarin said. He still honestly believed it was a crazed fan, but something about Fleetfoot's theory about Spitfire made him worry. "Did you ever—?"

"I never got too close to Spitfire, if that's what you're asking," Fleet foot said. "As I said, she kind of scares me a bit." Suddenly, she looked down. "Sorry if this is—"

"No, no, it's okay. I know you're just trying to help."

Fleetfoot looked at him, smiled, and flew off. Soarin continued walking the streets, thinking.

What did I do? What did I do? What did I do?