Every week they play a game. And every week the same result. Now, Rainbow Dash is determined that it's Fluttershy's turn to be a winner. But this is not a story about winning. This is a story about not winning. Not about the game, but why it's played
Every week, Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy play a game. And every week it’s the same, predictable result.
Fluttershy doesn't seem to mind. But when she confesses that she doesn't really understand why winning is so important, Rainbow Dash’s world almost explodes. Now Dash is on a mission. Not only to explain to her friend why winning is so awesome, but to prove it too. Because by the end of the day, come hay or high water, Fluttershy is going to win something!
Fluttershy just wants to play their game together next week, like always.
A story of two ponies and their friendship, past and present. Of winning and losing, the games we play and why we play them.
Show me your friends, and I’ll tell you who you are. — Zebra Proverb.
“Um... Sky-Five?”
A quaint cottage. A beautiful day. A tense battle.
“Ha! Not even close, Fluttershy.”
The glorious midsummer sun had already spent the morning raising the temperature of Fluttershy’s humble chalet to a hot – though mercifully not yet stifling – level, and though several of the characterful latticed windows stood open, not a breath of wind saw fit to disturb the thick, stuffy air. Where normally the cottage would be filled with the natural, pleasant ambient noise of dozens of assorted birds and critters, instead it lay silent, the torrid atmosphere encouraging most to retire to their birdhouses or cubby-holes and nap through the dry heat. Fortunately the temperature had yet had no adverse effect on the wits of the two competitors, locked in combat opposite each other at Fluttershy’s dining table. Rainbow Dash cocked a familiar, confident grin, placed a white marker on her board, and considered her next move.
Battleclouds; a game for two players. One part strategy and one part luck, each pony hid their briefcase-shaped board from the other, and took turns to guess where their opponent had hidden their assortment of different-shaped tokens. Some of the tokens bore the appearance of clouds, others were animals, and some were weather phenomena, though by convention, all were collectively referred to as ‘clouds’ for brevity. Finding an opponent’s token by guessing its co-ordinates entitled one to another go, and the winner was the first pony to find all of the other’s pieces.
Rainbow Dash was already well on her way to victory, narrowing her eyes as she now turned her attention to the hill.
On each board – on a piece of paper set behind the gridded, clear plastic layers into which the markers and tokens were inserted – lay a printed image of a static, countryside scene, including landmarks such as a coast, a hill, a lake, a meadow, a village and so on. Each illustration had been vibrant and striking once, but after so many years the images on both boards had become sun-bleached and weary. They were only flavour – something to look at while you played, and not intended to have any effect on the actual gameplay.
But... Fluttershy always put her Seagull somewhere on the hill. Because, of course, the Seagull really enjoyed the view from the hill and that’s where he liked to be. And she always put her Bumblebee somewhere close to the Seagull. Because, naturally, the Bumblebee and the Seagull were ‘friends.’
Rainbow Dash had long since worked out all of Fluttershy’s little rules, and since she placed her own tokens at random, she always held the advantage.
“Cloud... four,” she guessed, to be rewarded a moment later with the sight of Fluttershy picking a bird-shaped token from her board and handing it over with a faint – and oddly contented – little smile.
“That’s my last one,” she said sweetly.
Dash looked up in brief surprise. “Really?” Already? She looked down again and counted up the tokens she’d already captured from her opponent. Sure enough, she had the full set.
“Looks like you win, Rainbow Dash,” said Fluttershy, in that soft but endlessly supportive voice she had.
“Aw yeah! Chalk up another one right here. Hey, I wonder if that’s some kind of record or something?” mused Rainbow as she focused on her board, briefly counting up her total number of ‘miss’ markers while wondering what the record was for, ‘winning a game of Battleclouds in the fewest moves.’ Such a thing had to exist, right?
Of course it did. In fact, she was so good at Battleclouds that she’d probably broken all sorts of other records too, without even realising it. Probably, ‘quickest game.’ Possibly ‘most decisive victory,’ too. Almost certainly ‘longest winning streak.’ She couldn’t recall the last time she’d lost a game versus Fluttershy.
Fluttershy closed her board, having packed all of her tokens and markers neatly inside, and placed it inside the long-faded and ratty old cardboard box the game came in. Only then did Rainbow Dash notice that she hadn’t begun to do the same, her thoughts having momentarily brought her to inaction.
She absently cleared her own board and closed it down, but even now found a little frown forming as her thoughts continued to distract. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d lost, versus Fluttershy. That was irritating. Like her memory was temporarily busted or something. Ever the athlete, she hated the thought of any part of her not being in perfect working order, and she tried to give her brain a kick up the rump – tried to force it to remember the last time she’d lost to Fluttershy. Really lost – that time in the hospital didn’t count – but her memory remained a complete blank and her lack of success started to nag her, becoming an itch that she couldn't scratch.
“Rainbow Dash? Is something wrong?”
“Huh? Oh... nah. I was just wondering whether I’ve broken the Battleclouds record for ‘longest winning streak’ yet. I’ve gotta be getting close, right? It feels like forever since you won one.”
Fluttershy just gave a sweet little chuckle and took Rainbow’s board carefully, holding it closed since the little catch designed to do so had long ago broken off. She placed it neatly back into the old box beside its partner and gingerly took the set over to the small cupboard near the wall where it would be kept safe, ready for next week’s game.
“I mean, I wonder how many of these I’ve actually won now, altogether?” Dash thought aloud. There was a record there somewhere, she just knew it.
“Oh. You really don’t know?”
Dash’s eyes lit up. “You do know?” Awesome! Fluttershy had been keeping score! All this time! And Twilight definitely had a copy of the Whinnys Book of Records. A plan began to form. “How many?” she asked eagerly.
Fluttershy returned a blank look for a moment, her face a picture of honest confusion. Then in the next moment her expression was replaced with a warm, happy smile. “Well, all of them.”
Dash’s excitement peaked. “All of them? Seriously? I’ve never lost?” Fluttershy simply nodded her head a little, her small smile never leaving.
This was awesome! The sheer number of games she’d played with Fluttershy – that had to be dozens, scores, possibly even hundreds! – the laws of probability alone suggested she had to have lost some, and yet she was really undefeated? She had to have broken some kind of record. Plus, it meant her memory wasn’t kaput after all. Yep, everything was coming up Rainbow Dash today! She was already mentally composing the letter she was going to [get Spike to] write to the records people. Dear Sir or Madam. Please put me in the book of records for most number of wins at Battleclouds because it turns out, I’ve never lost.
...I’ve never lost.
Wait... hold on.
Rainbow Dash’s brow furrowed and confusion returned. She looked curiously at her longtime friend. “You... you’ve never won?”
Fluttershy chuckled her sweet chuckle. “Oh, it’s okay, Dashie. It’s your favourite game after all. You’re much better at it than I am, and I know how happy winning makes you.”
“But... you’ve never won?” Dash repeated. “I mean... how is that even fun for you?” Dash gave herself a little head-shake, fixated on this new conundrum. Why would Fluttershy keep playing her all this time if all she ever did was lose? That just didn’t make sense. But Fluttershy didn’t reply, only looked at her with that contented, but vaguely confused smile.
Dash supposed that, even though Fluttershy had never so much as hinted they should play anything else, it wasn’t really fair to keep playing a game she’d demonstrably never win at. Winning through skill was one thing but this – now that she knew... well, it felt a little like browbeating, and that wasn't cool. “Okay, whatever. But maybe next week we should play a different game. Y’know, something that you’re good at instead. Even the odds a little, okay?” she said, standing now with a smirk and beginning to saunter casually towards the cottage door.
There was a quiet, barely audible, “Oh, okay,” from behind her, and then gentle hoof-falls as Fluttershy followed her, ready to say their goodbyes and see her out.
Dash opened the door, inviting a flood of searing white daylight into the cottage. She stepped outside into the hot, noon summer sun, the sky a perfect, unbroken canvas of blue and nary the whisper of a breeze to be found on the air. The perfect day for an afternoon nap in the boughs of a leafy, shady tree somewhere. She turned to Fluttershy, finding her friend’s little smile now reformed.
“So, um... same time next week?” asked Fluttershy.
“Sure,” said Dash. “Just let me know what we’re gonna be playing sometime before then.” After all, if it was something like Chess, she was going to need to brush up on the rules. Or even learn them to begin with.
Fluttershy, caught a little off guard, took an instinctive half-step backwards. “Oh... you want me to choose? I... we... we could just play Battleclouds, if... if you like? I really don’t mind.”
Rainbow Dash frowned. “Come on Fluttershy. Think of a game you want to play. That you’re good at. It doesn’t matter what it is.”
“Oh,” said Fluttershy again. Suddenly the smile was gone, a sheepish look appeared, and one foreleg absently rubbed another. “I’m... not that good at any games, really.”
Dash let out a frustrated sigh. “Okay, fine. Just think of the last game you won at, and next week we’ll play that instead. No biggie.”
“Um...”
There was an awkward, pregnant silence.
“Or, y’know, any game you’ve won at?”
Fluttershy scratched the floor with a hoof and looked down. Rainbow Dash stared at Fluttershy with a raised, impatient eyebrow. The silence persisted.
The eyebrow fell and Rainbow Dash frowned once again. “Seriously?”
Fluttershy looked up sheepishly.
“Oh come on!” cried Dash. “You’re not seriously telling me you can’t remember any game you’ve won?”
Fluttershy’s expression turned from sheepish to awkward guilt. Then she gave a little nod of her head, as opposed to a shake.
Dash’s annoyance slowly ebbed as realisation dawned, replaced with an odd mix of surprise and horror. “You’re... not seriously telling me you’ve never won... any game?”
Another slow, shallow nod. A sweet, guilty half-smile.
A shocked expression and a dropped jaw. “What? A game of checkers? A round of backgammon? A hoof of cards?!”
Fluttershy shook her head.
“Okay, okay. What about non-games? You’ve won a race or something, right? Or a contest? A competition? A raffle?!”
“Oh, no. Nothing like that.”
Rainbow’s world was being turned upside down. She rubbed her face desperately with her hoof, trying to literally wipe the surprise off before looking once more at the strange, somehow-content countenance of the friend in front of her. “Fluttershy... you’re saying that you’ve never won? You’ve never come first? At anything? Ever?”
“Well... no.” She looked back at Dash’s amazed face and clearly felt the need to expand. “I mean, it’s not like I lose on purpose. But I know I’m not good enough at anything to actually win it. I don’t mind. Really. I know winning makes some ponies very happy, but... I guess I just don’t understand what’s so important about it.”
Rainbow Dash’s brain almost imploded. “You... what? You don’t get what’s important about winning?!”
Fluttershy shook her head.
“It’s awesome! It’s... it’s... well, it’s important because it’s winning! Because it’s... because if you’re not a winner you’re a...” No, wait. She stopped herself. That wasn’t fair. Just because Fluttershy hadn’t won anything... well, she wasn’t a loser, okay? Fluttershy was awesome, she just didn’t know what winning was like was all. She’d never had the chance to find out.
And Rainbow Dash, for whom winning was second nature, was at this moment singularly failing to articulate why it was something to which everypony should aspire with the same ambition. It was just... winning. And that, in and of itself was both the answer, and no answer at all.
Frustration at last got the better of her and she let out an exasperated grunt. “You know what? Never mind!” Of course winning was important! What did Fluttershy know? To understand winning, you had to do it, and if she couldn’t be bothered to win something to see how awesome it really was, that was her problem! Rainbow Dash turned and flared her wings, her suddenly petulant thoughts driving her to take skywards.
“Wait!” said Fluttershy with a desperate little inflection. “We’re still playing next week, aren’t we?”
Dash turned with a frown, ready to snap a petty, ‘What’s the point?’ in Fluttershy’s direction. But she saw Fluttershy’s face, half pleading and half disappointed, and forced her sudden strange temper down. “Sure,” was her curt reply. Then she flapped her wings and took flight into the hot, clear summer sky, leaving the other pony where she stood.
Fluttershy watched her friend go from the door of her cottage. She wasn’t sure what she’d said to upset her. She’d never won anything... but she didn’t see that as a problem, and she certainly couldn’t understand why it should be a problem to anypony else.
She looked at the ground and sighed. Well... she supposed it wouldn’t be the first time she couldn’t work out what she’d done to make other ponies dislike her.
It had been happening since she was a filly, after all...
* * *
Fluttershy hated Flight Camp. Well, maybe hated was a strong word, but she really, really, really, really disliked it.
It wasn’t the instructors. They were all perfectly lovely and understanding, for the most part. It wasn’t really the lessons either, even though the teachers had resorted to putting her in classes with foals a year younger than she was.
No. She knew it was horrible to say, but... it was the other students.
She was a laughing stock. She tried, oh, she really tried, but she just wasn’t a good flyer at all. Exercises and drills that even foals in the year below had mastered still caused her endless trouble, and she just didn’t know why flight wouldn’t click for her the way she noticed it did for every other pony in the school. And every time she messed up a turn and spiraled out of control, or wobbled off balance and crashed more than she landed, the other ponies laughed at her. Teased her. Called her names.
And... she just didn’t know why.
She couldn't work out why the fact that she wasn’t as good at something as them – that she struggled more than them – made them not like her.
Why couldn’t they be nice to her instead? In her own mind it just made so much more sense to be nice. Being nice was so much... nicer than being mean. And it wasn’t like they were just horrible ponies, because they were nice to each other. Just not her. She was the outsider. The freak. The un-flier. But even though she’d been tarred with that brush... she still didn’t understand why it naturally followed that ponies wanted to hate her rather than help her. After all, were she in their place, she would be nice; she’d want to help...
She didn’t understand. It didn’t make sense.
She... she hated Flight Camp.
But frustrating though it was, it seemed it was just a fact. She struggled, and so she was shunned. She’d stopped trying to work out why. She could remember when she had first started here, her parents had told her not to be nervous, assuring her that all she had to do was be herself and she’d soon make lots of new friends. But it hadn’t taken long to learn that when she did work up the courage to offer a wave or a warm hello, friendly greetings were met only with turned backs and disdainful giggles, and the infantile hope that she’d ever find a real friend among her peers had long since left her. She just kept to herself now, tried her best in the exercises, and when she inevitably failed more than she succeeded, she did all she could to let the mocking laughter roll off her, wishing for the day she could finally leave more than anything else in the world.
She didn’t talk much anymore. Sometimes days would go by when the only sounds she made were the frightened little yelps from her throat when she fell. Much like the one she was making now, actually, as her gangly forelegs caught the bottom of the cloud-ring and she tripped, legs pinwheeling, and falling rump first back towards the rec building.
Her wings flapped in an uncoordinated flurry as she hit the angled cloud-roof and began to slide, gaining speed. The bottom of the roof curved upwards into a slight lip, and when Fluttershy hit it her momentum catapulted her outwards, over the runway, and straight towards the flagpole on the far side.
Fortunately, she missed the pole itself. Not the flag, however, which enveloped her before being torn from its bindings and wrapping itself around her as her now solely gravity-powered flight at last came to an end. She hit the surface of the cloud with a whump, lying on her belly, and slowly began to shift the red canvas of the flag off herself.
The faint hope that her latest catastrophe might have gone unnoticed was immediately crushed.
“Ha-ha! Nice going, Klutzershy!” said a grey-coated colt; one of a pair who now descended and landed close, standing over her and leering. “They oughta ground you permanently!”
“Ha! My baby brother can fly better than you!” scoffed his tan-coated companion, while Fluttershy did nothing to them except sit there and absorb their scorn. Even now they were both beginning to laugh at her with derisive, contemptuous guffaws. But if she stayed quiet and still, and didn’t meet their gaze, well, usually it would stop after a little while and the bullies would go away. Hopefully before they made her upset enough to cry. If she cried, they’d stay and make fun of her for crying too.
She’d never understand it. Why couldn’t ponies just want to make each other happier instead of... instead of miserable.
She felt the beginnings of tears. She felt like she was about to cry.
And then, out of nowhere...
It happened so quickly. There was a streak in the sky. Then a blur, and then a rush of wind. All of a sudden there was another pony there too, with a cyan coat and sporting a mane and tail that comprised every colour in the rainbow.
Rainbow Dash. She was one of the most popular fillies at the camp, and always seemed to have lots of friends following her around. She was one of the best flyers too and Fluttershy had used to daydream about what it might be like to be real friends with a confident pony like her. Maybe if she had a friend like that she’d learn to fly better, or make other new friends. But while it was nice to pretend, it was the most far-fetched of fantasies. She’d never actually spoken to her for real, and Fluttershy’s lack of any kind of social circle ensured she never would. The only thing Fluttershy really knew of Rainbow Dash was that she happened to belong to the ever-shrinking pool of ponies who hadn’t yet made fun of her. And now it looked like she was about to break that duck.
Except... for some reason she was stood next to her. Slightly in front, actually, and facing the two bullies, squaring up to them with a resolute frown.
And then she shouted at them. Three words which Fluttershy would never in a hundred years have expected anypony to say.
“Leave her alone!”
And from that point, from that exact moment... things started to change.
* * *
The free, wide heavens called Rainbow Dash to them. She didn’t dally, but without hurrying either she carried herself above the band of thick, hot air close to the ground and into the cooler, breezy layer high, high above the earth. The crystal-clear dome of the vast, open sky surrounding her was unmarred by cloud from horizon to horizon; an infinite space in which she could do whatever she wanted, go as fast as she wanted, be as daring as she wanted. Up here she was alone and without equal, and she restlessly began to put herself through a series of moderate turns and loops, the cool wind on her coat and feathers, in her mane and in her face, feeling infinitely refreshing after the stuffy air of the cottage. Flying always helped her think.
She knew this. She knew she knew it. She just didn’t know she knew she knew it.
Winning.
Winning was always the goal. The outcome. The endgame. For her, it was always the answer. And now, suddenly, it was the question.
If winning wasn’t the end itself... if it was simply the means to another end... then what was that end? Why did ponies try to win? What was it about, ‘winning’ that was so attractive? What did you really get out of it?
There was an answer. She knew there was. She just couldn’t get a hold of it, and she growled in frustration as her loops became tighter and faster, her improvised routine carrying her over the rolling fields of the orchard far below.
It wasn’t like she was unique. Other ponies enjoyed winning too, and strove for it just as hard as she did. Dash instinctively peered downwards, towards the crimson and white barn she found herself above, and even now spied a distant, tiny orange speck busying itself in some activity near the northeast corner. Without realising it, her subconscious aerial display was already bringing her closer to the ground as her frustrated musings continued to tax her conscious capacity.
What did she know about winning as a concept? As an ideal? She knew she loved it. She knew she was good at it. And she knew she always wanted more of it. Those feelings were instilled in her. She didn’t know why, but they were part of her and had been since her first ever win...
* * *
Screaming through the air, soaring upwards, Rainbow Dash tore through the chequered banner with neither of her rivals anywhere in sight. The multicoloured wake behind her left a rainbow contrail high over Cloudsdale as she brought herself to an arc and gradually slowed her speed. Her heart was pounding, her adrenaline was pumping, and the rush of cold wind on her flanks and in her mane imbued an exhilaration that was like nothing she’d ever felt before.
The headrush slowly passed, and she descended back towards the flight camp on the outskirts of the city where practically all of the foals at the school were now waiting for her with uproarious cheers and adoration. They chanted her name. The complimented her on her brand new, totally awesome cutie-mark. They begged her to teach them how to do the amazing trick she’d just performed – completely by accident if she were being honest. And they congratulated her on winning. Oh yeah, she’d won. And not just by a little. She’d decimated her opponents. Hah! Maybe that’d teach them that they weren’t all that, and that they shouldn’t go around picking on...
Actually, where was she? It’d be nice to tell her that she wouldn’t have to worry about those punks making fun of her for a while. Except she was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she’d wandered off?
“Hey, where’d she go?” she asked the crowd at large.
“Who?”
“You know. The flag pony?”
“Oh. At the start you guys were all, whoosh and she span and lost her balance.”
“And?” asked Dash, confused.
“And she’s... really not a good flyer,” said one of her classmates as she and a few others peered pointedly over the edge of one of the broken clouds where the crowd of foals had gathered.
Rainbow Dash’s blood turned to ice. All colour and confidence drained from her and a sick lump invaded her stomach. She followed their gaze downwards. Towards the ground. The really solid, hard, unforgiving ground. Her mouth went dry.
Ohmygosh, ohmygosh!
Without even thinking she leaped over the edge of the cloud, wings pumping, diving quickly, driving herself downwards.
Rainbow Dash scanned the face of the earth as she grew lower and lower, looking for something she hoped she wouldn’t see – a pony-shaped crater and possibly a filly who was horribly injured or worse. But she saw nothing of the kind, and in a way that was almost as bad.
She brought herself to a hover six feet above a spot on the ground that she guessed was more or less directly under the start-point of the race, and found herself in a small glade of trees set on a rolling pasture of green field. She looked around frantically, not seeing any evidence of an horrific impact. But she couldn’t see any other sign of the other pony either.
“Uh, hello?” she called loudly. “Hello? Can you hear me? Are you okay?” Flapping her wings, she began to weave through the sparse copse of trees, searching for any sign. The longer she went without, the sicker she felt. If she was hurt out here... it was her fault.
Coming to a small clearing, she finally saw her. The buttermilk-coated pegasus filly was nestled comfortably against the trunk and between the roots of a large, shady oak, and surrounded by a whole host of woodland creatures. Rabbits, butterflies, hedgehogs, bluejays, and many more besides. It was like a scene from some clichéd fairytale or something but, for a mercy, she looked like she was okay, and she was smiling a completely contented smile as the animals variously chittered and cosied up to her.
Relief surged like a wave through Rainbow Dash, but she found herself still filled with nervous energy. She rushed without heed towards the other filly, sending most of the animal companions she’d accrued scattering in all directions, and drawing a sudden gaze from her teal eyes that first held a look of sheer panic, before slowly sinking into fear and apprehension. As Rainbow Dash got close, the filly actually started to try and shrink back further into the tree, away from her, hiding her face mostly behind her thick, pink mane.
“There you are!” Rainbow quickly brought herself to a hover. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“Um...” The filly began before trailing off. “N-no. I’m okay,” she said eventually, and oh-so-quietly, still averting her gaze.
“Phew.” Dash drew a relieved foreleg across her brow. “Okay, we gotta hurry. Maybe we can still get back before the instructors realise we’re gone.”
At this though, the other pony visibly flinched, as though stung by a small insect. She looked around heartbreakingly at her few remaining animal companions, who seemed to beseech her to stay, then upwards at Dash herself, and then finally beyond her to the sky. At length she drew a long, deep, shaky breath and, slowly, the filly rose to her hooves. She took a few steps out from beneath the tree canopy, tiptoeing in a wide arc nervously around Dash as though afraid of provoking a temperamental beast. The filly gazed at Cloudsdale high above and let her breath out in a slow, melancholic sigh, tainted with every shade of sadness. She hung her head and let out a whisper to herself that Dash only caught half of.
“... so happy here.”
Rainbow Dash had never seen anyone look so miserable. And this... really wasn’t the best time to be miserable.
“Come on, we gotta move. Otherwise we’ll be in big trouble, and the Principal’s got it in for me as it is.” Dash flapped her wings a little harder and ascended by a couple of feet, hoping to draw the other pegasus with her.
The filly raised her head, as though in mild surprise. “Oh. I... I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble because of me,” she said, softly. She spread her wings with obvious reluctance, but began to flap them all the same, ascending a few inches from the ground.
Dash breathed another sigh of relief and turned for the sky. If they could get back to Flight Camp before the instructors noticed they were gone, they’d be home free. Otherwise... well, she was already breaking some pretty serious rules by leaving without permission, not to mention that the whole race thing itself wasn’t exactly authorised...
After a moment though, she felt quite alone. She halted and hovered, looking down. Thirty feet below her, only a dozen feet from the ground, the other filly was flapping hard and making no progress at all. Seriously, for every three flaps of her wings she seemed to rise about a foot. At this rate it’d take them years to reach Cloudsdale!
Dash lowered herself, bringing herself to the other pony’s altitude. And as soon as she did so – as soon as the filly noticed her, and noticed her looking, she began to lose height. She flapped no slower, in fact she even seemed to beat her wings harder in desperation, but the ability of flight seemed to drain from her like sand slipping through her hooves, and in seconds they were both back on the ground.
Rainbow Dash stood opposite her and glared impatiently. “What was that?! Come on! We’ve gotta go!”
The filly flinched again, this time as though struck, and turned her head away to once more hide her anguished expression behind her pink mane. “I just... can’t. Go ahead, make fun of me if you want,” she said with resignation and a ragged sigh. “I can’t do it. I can’t fly.” Then there was a sniffle and... oh...
She was crying.
Rainbow Dash had to stifle a groan. With some effort, she softened her voice. “Look... it’s okay, alright. You can do it. You’re just not spreading your feathers enough and that’s why you’re not getting any lift! Come on, just... try again.” When she made no move except to shrink back a little further, Dash stepped around, bringing herself closer and to where she could look into her eyes without them being obscured by her mane. “I’m not gonna make fun of you, okay? Honest,” she said. “Here, like this. Wings up, stretch those feathers as wide as you can, and start flapping.”
And, after a hesitant moment, she did. Her wings beat slowly at first, but she lifted herself off the ground, and when Dash gave her a confident smile they slowly but surely began to climb together, back towards the clouds above.
Ascent was painfully slow at first, but then, after a minute or two, Dash noticed something odd happening to the filly next to her. As they continued to climb and realisation seemed to dawn that Dash really wasn’t going to turn on her, betray her, and start teasing her horrendously, her confidence tentatively began to increase. And with it, in direct correlation, her ability. Her form improved, her speed gradually doubled, and she needed to put less effort into her wingbeats to achieve the same amount of lift. And when, just over halfway up the filly looked uncertainly toward her – her rhythm faltering for a moment – and Dash returned a warm, encouraging smile and a, “See? You’re doing awesome!” which was apparently contrary to expectations, she practically took off sprinting!
There was nothing wrong with her. She could fly. Whatever issues she had, they were issues with confidence, not flight.
Finally they reached the outskirts of Cloudsdale and the Flight Camp campus. Climbing over the edge of the clouds, the pair of them landed side by side at a trot on the runway and Rainbow Dash glanced over to see a look of pure elation on the other filly’s face. She clearly couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe what she’d done. And she looked back with a euphoric, happy smile into which was set pure gratitude: an acknowledgement that she’d never have done it alone.
Rainbow Dash smiled back and then looked over at the rest of the campus, where her adoring fans had been gathered earlier. Uh oh.
A tall, powder-blue coated adult pegasus with an off-white mane and a snowflake cutie-mark strode towards them with a scowl and halted before them both. It was clear from his posture he already knew what had happened and the filly beside her looked down, cowed while Rainbow Dash herself gave a nervous chuckle. “Oh, uh, hey, Principal Frost. Fancy seeing you here.”
Pale Frost looked at them both most disapprovingly. “Rainbow Dash? I’m very disappointed in you. In both of you. You’re both in serious trouble.”
Beside her, the other filly eeped quietly, but Rainbow Dash frowned, jumping straight to objection without missing a beat. “Hey! You can’t punish her! She didn’t do anything wrong!”
And then, unexpectedly, her new friend piped up too, soft and beseeching. “Please, Principal Frost, don’t punish Rainbow Dash. It was my fault. All of this only happened because she tried to help me.”
Pale Frost’s cold gaze was unmoved. “As I understand it, Fluttershy, you are the one who started the race in the first place. And Rainbow Dash? Not only did you organise and participate in this event – which could have resulted in serious injury – but you then left campus without permission, and did not alert us to what had happened!” said the Principal sternly. “We could have lost two students today. It’s only by luck, I think, that we have you both back. There are rules at this school. Both of you know them. They exist for your safety and for that of your classmates. They are not flexible; nor am I.” He drew himself up and looked down his muzzle at both ponies. “Fluttershy, you’re going straight to sickbay to get checked over and I will be by to discuss this later. Rainbow Dash –” he fixed her with a steely gaze, “– my office, now.”
He started to walk away, but then after half a dozen steps he seemed to catch himself. With a sudden air of curiosity he turned back and addressed Fluttershy. “All the way from the ground to Cloudsdale? Without stopping?”
Fluttershy nodded.
“You witnessed this?” he said to Dash, who nodded too.
Pale Frost mulled for a moment and then again addressed Fluttershy, though the hard edge in his voice was gone now. “That’s easily worth a perfect ten in your ‘Unbroken Ascent’ classification. That’s an excellent achievement, especially considering how much trouble I know it’s been giving you. It will pull your average up considerably – in fact it should put you on track to qualify with a reasonable grade, come graduation. Well done, Fluttershy,” he said. “But please don’t do it again. Rainbow Dash? Come with me, now.”
As he walked away, Rainbow Dash lingered a moment. Under her breath she whispered, “See, what I tell ya? He’s totally got it in for me.”
Beside her, the other pony simply looked back sadly. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t hate me.”
Huh? Dash blinked and shook her head a little. “Hey, uh... Fluttershy, right? We’ll hang sometime, ‘kay?”
“We... we will?”
“Come along, Rainbow Dash!” called Principal Frost’s voice.
Rainbow Dash gave her a warm smile. “Sure we will.”
The barn stood monolithic and sentrylike beneath the sweltering sun, defying the inexhaustible furnace in the sky to try and bake the timbers of its hulking structure. Here and there the red paint upon its slats had bleached, cracked and peeled, revealing the bare, splintered wood beneath.
The southernmost wall of the barn was one of the two shorter sides and bore the main entrance – currently standing wide open – and it was here that Rainbow Dash alighted. She’d snapped out of her reverie when she’d suddenly found herself over the farm at half the height she thought she’d been, and while it occurred to her that Applejack might be able to offer some insight into her current poser, instead of simply asking her, her devious mind had instead conjured a much better idea.
She made her way quickly to the right hand corner of the building, skulking behind it and peering round along the long exterior wall on the east face. She could see Applejack busy stacking buckets or something in the shade at the far end. She hadn’t noticed her.
Stifling a chuckle, Dash turned and trotted past the entrance to the southwest corner, and looked round that one too. Sure enough, a few feet along the western wall of the barn was a brass water tap connected to a length of green hosepipe, coiled and hung from a rusted old hook on the wall. A little further along from that, at the far end and just beyond an open window, hung a glass display case that was her eventual goal. First though, she had to get Horse A, to Hosepipe B.
Trotting back to the opposite corner with a wide, inane grin, Dash composed herself. She turned around so her rear end was closest to the corner and then, loudly, she banged her hindleg twice against the wood frame of the barn.
THUD. THUD.
There was a brief moment of silence. Then a distant voice said, “Huh?”
Dash grinned wider and flicked her tail deliberately, allowing the quickest, most fleeting of glimpses to reach Applejack’s view round the corner.
“What the hay was...?”
Slow, uncertain hoofsteps began approaching.
Fighting the urge not the burst out laughing, Dash ran past the barn entrance to the southwest corner once more, and ducked round it. When the faint hoofsteps from the far side of the barn reached their closest and finally stopped, she knocked on the woodwork yet again. THUD.
“What the heck is goin’ on...?”
The hoofsteps began to approach once more.
Giddy and excited now, Dash reached the hosepipe on the western wall, grabbed the end, turned the tap, and kinked the rubber, aiming the nozzle at the corner and ready to give a certain farmpony a nice, cold shower that, after working all morning in the heat of the sun, she was certain she’d appreciate.
Eventually.
She waited. For several long seconds. But the sound of the water whooshing into the hose had masked the hoofsteps. More importantly, it had masked the fact that they seemed to have stopped–
“Sneak attack!” came a playful yell from behind her, an instant before she felt herself flung forward, her grip on the hosepipe lost as a soft, warm weight cannoned into her from the rear and tackled her to the ground.
When her head stopped spinning she found herself lying on her back on the dry, dusty earth with Applejack standing atop her, pinning her to the floor. It appeared she’d ducked inside the barn through the entrance, and then jumped through the open window that Rainbow had unwisely sat with her back to. Dash writhed and squirmed a little but Applejack had her limbs expertly trapped, and so she relaxed back rather than struggle uselessly against her. It was too hot, after all.
“Well well, looks like I caught me one o’ them prankster ponies about to do some mischief,” said Applejack with a happy, playful smirk. “You best say uncle, Rainbow. Or else I start ticklin’.”
Dash made a face and rolled her eyes. “Applejack?”
“Yes, Rainbow?”
“Go climb a tree.”
“Love you too, sugarcube.”
“Applejack?”
“Yes, Rainbow?”
“Get off me.”
Applejack gave a little chuckle. She stepped off Rainbow Dash and offered a foreleg, pulling the pegasus back to her hooves with a smile. Dash stood and dusted herself down while Applejack wandered back over to shut the hosepipe off. As she re-coiled it over the hook, Dash walked over to the glass display case hung at the far end of the barn.
Dash turned and sat next to the display. A sturdy glass-fronted cabinet constructed of strong, varnished applewood and mounted on the barn wall just above head-height. Inside, clearly visible to anypony who happened to venture to this particular spot on the farm, were several different-shaped rosettes of blue and gold, their fine silk and intricate embroidery shimmering in the harsh sunlight – first place trophies from many, many rodeos, and each one proof that Applejack was the pinnacle of athletic endurance and dexterity. They weren’t blatant or in-your-face – not many ponies who came to the farm had cause to come back to this quiet corner of the barn – but they were proudly displayed nonetheless.
Dash stared at Applejack and raised a forehoof towards the trophy cabinet, pointing at it in an almost accusing manner.
Applejack’s gaze travelled from Dash to the rosettes. Not finding any meaning, she looked back to Dash and raised a confused eyebrow. Dash jabbed her foreleg a couple more times and gave Applejack an impatient glare.
Applejack scrutinised the cabinet more closely now, but her confusion only deepened. She looked back to Rainbow Dash. “Rainbow? You alright? I didn’t knock your noggin back there, did I?”
Dash groaned and brought her hoof to her face before pointing it once more at the cabinet. “These are your trophies, right? You won them?”
“Uh... yes?” said Applejack cautiously.
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Yes, why?!”
“Uh... because I was the best competitor, I guess.”
“No,” Dash groaned. “I’m not talking about how you won them, I’m talking about why?”
“Why?”
“Why?!” Sheesh, was there an echo out here?
Applejack gazed at her with a blank, mildly concerned stare. “Rainbow, sugarcube, are you sure the heat ain’t got to yer head? Because I really ain’t followin’ ya.”
Dash slumped and sighed. She wasn’t making much sense. Because the whole thing didn’t make sense. She looked up at Applejack with a softer expression. “Did you know that Fluttershy’s never won anything?”
“Uh... guess I’ve never thought about it. How d’ya mean, ‘anything’?”
“I mean anything. No races, no contests, no games. I don’t even think she’s hooked a duck at the funfair and won a prize, the way she was talking. And then she says she doesn’t get what’s so great about winning anyway, and I... I’m like... well I don’t know! I can’t explain it!
“I love winning!” said Dash, desperately, “And you love winning too! Look!” she pointed once again at the display case, as though to call upon proof of her assertion. “I was cheering you on when you won like, half of these. I’ve seen you win. I know that winning means the same to you as it does to me! But why? I mean, I know why I love it in here–” she jabbed her hoof into her chest, “–but when I try to say why I love it, it’s like it’s all... bluergh.” She looked hopefully at Applejack. “So... why do you do it? Why do ponies like us do this?”
Applejack gazed at Rainbow Dash for a few moments before sitting opposite her and rubbing her chin thoughtfully. Then, after a long, patient silence, she took a step towards the trophy cabinet and gazed reverently at the ribbon set the furthest to the left.
“That one there? That’s the first one I ever won,” she said. “I can still remember it, y’know? I wasn’t much more than a filly, and already pretty good with the rope. But when those judges read my name out, and gave me that there ribbon... right then, I was the best. I’d never been the best at anythin’ before an’ I felt... well, I guess I felt real special. And whenever I’ve won since, there’s always that little feelin’ comes back. That you’re the best. That you’re special,” she finished wistfully.
Rainbow had, without realising it, begun to nod along, and as Applejack finished she burst out, “Yes! Exactly! It’s that feeling, right? That awesome, totally amazing feeling that you’re the greatest. That you’re...” She fumbled, but she couldn’t find a better way of putting it than Applejack had – “...special.”
Applejack smiled and nodded. “Heh. Guess it’s tougher to describe than I thought.”
“Okay!” Dash said with sudden enthusiasm, “So, what kind of contest are we gonna get Fluttershy to win?”
Applejack blinked. “Uh... what?”
“That ‘special’ feeling. You only get it from winning, right? So... she’s gotta win something! Now, what’s it gonna be?” Dash began to rub her hooves together, looking up at the sky, racking her brains.
“Uh, Rainbow? Just think about this. Not that that ain’t a nice idea, but, well, Fluttershy really ain’t the competitive type. Not like you an’ me are. How exactly you expectin’ to get her to enter a real contest with other ponies?”
Dash rubbed her chin and frowned a vexed frown. Fluttershy wasn’t as introverted as she used to be, but actually convincing her to compete, and against real opponents? That would be a really tall order. And even if she did manage to persuade her, Fluttershy’s well-known aversion to conflict and performance would mean she’d likely be too timid to compete at her best. Certainly not well enough to win at... whatever it ended up being.
What Fluttershy needed was to compete in a scenario where she felt comfortable, against competitors with whom she felt at ease...
Realisation struck and Dash smiled, her eyes lighting up. “Okay, so she doesn’t compete against other ponies, she competes against us!” This was genius!
Applejack buried her face in her hoof. This was moronic. “Okay... sure...?” she said patiently. “So, you just gotta find a skill that Fluttershy’s got that she can do better than any of us, then find a way to turn that into a competition, and then find a way to present all this so it don’t sound like the most contrived plan in history. Which is what it is. And even that ain’t the biggest problem.”
“There’s a biggest problem?”
“Dash? Even if we say it’s all a game, how you really think Fluttershy’s gonna react if she beats all her best friends in some contest? You reckon she’s gonna feel good about herself, or is she gonna feel upset for making losers outta the rest of us?”
“Oh.” Dash looked at the ground. A moment passed.
But the wheels in Applejack's own head were turning now and somehow wouldn't stop. “Unless...” she began, to herself. Then a smile appeared and she looked back at Rainbow. “Unless maybe she’s helpin’ one of her friends to win too.” Applejack actually surprised herself with her slowly changing mind. But while Dash’s idea had all the hallmarks of a fool, cockamamy plan, the intent behind it was honourable and, actually, pretty sweet. And... this just might work, she supposed. “Wait here a sec.” She turned and trotted round the corner into the barn, reappearing a moment later with a short, coiled length of rope which she dropped at Dash’s hooves.
Rainbow Dash looked quizzically at the rope, and then raised an eyebrow at Applejack. “Uh, Applejack? I’m not sure what kind of ‘game’ you’ve got in mind here, but it’s not quite what I was thinking.”
“Very funny,” said Applejack. “It’s for a seven-legged-race. You pair up with Fluttershy. I’ll race with Pinkie Pie, and Twilight can go with Rarity. We’ll make it a real Pegasus, Earth-Pony, Unicorn contest.”
“Unicorn?”
“Aw, Twilight’ll always be a unicorn at heart. Heck, I barely even notice the wings anymore. And outta those three pairs, between Twilight and Rarity not being runners, and me tryin’ to wrangle Pinkie Pie from bouncin’ all over the place, I’d put my bits on ya. Fluttershy gets to help you win, and she wins too. And the best part is it’s all just a friendly competition between good friends.”
“That’s brilliant!”
“Well, I dunno if it’s ‘brilliant.’ It’s still the most contrived plan in the world. But if it’s gonna make Fluttershy feel like she deserves to, I reckon we can pull it off.”
“Okay, great. I’ll go round up the others. You set the race up here, and we’ll all be back before you know it!”
Applejack touched the brim of her hat, and Rainbow Dash flared her wings. An instant later she was rushing skywards and heading towards Ponyville.
So, now she had a plan, and importantly, she had an answer to her question. Winning. You did it because winning made you feel... special. She knew deep down, there was more to it, but Applejack was right: that feeling, when it hit you, there was nothing else like it. When you got it, that special feeling, you wanted more of it. That was what she’d felt on that first win. And it was past time that Fluttershy got it too.
* * *
There was a place Fluttershy knew. A small, out-of-the way corner of the school, not far from the entrance to the staff-room building where the instructors spent their breaks. Other students rarely came there. Too close to the enemy, as it were. The only ponies that passed by were the teachers going to and from, and they were much more likely to give her an understanding smile, or at least ignore her, than to launch into petty teasing. The relative solitude granted her a comfort she couldn’t find anywhere else on campus, and so day after day, while all the other fillies and colts talked and played, she found her little nook here, all by herself, and simply waited quietly for lunch-hour to end.
But that was not to be today. Today would be different. Today, another student walking past noticed her by chance from the corner of her eye, did a double-take... and stopped.
“Hey, Fluttershy?”
Fluttershy’s pleasant daydream about living on the ground, surrounded by adorable woodland critters was rudely shoved aside as her attention was called back from its vacation. She looked up and had to force her eyes to focus, but in spite of the unexpected and unwelcome interruption she couldn’t stop a small, automatic smile when she actually saw who it was. “Rainbow Dash? What are you doing here?”
“On my way to Viper’s office,” she said with a cavalier grin. “Third time this month!”
“Did you do something wrong?”
“Me? There is absolutely no proof it was me, okay!” But she had a cock-sure smirk that wouldn’t go away. Then, unable to hold it in, “Okay, so maybe I cloud-seeded the roof of the classroom building. Halfway through Basic Weather Mechanics, bam! Instant downpour, straight out of the ceiling! The look on the teacher’s face! She really didn’t get the irony.” She sighed. “Totally worth it. Even if I do spend the next month in detention.”
Fluttershy gave her a disappointed, reproachful look. Dash’s smile faltered for just a moment. “Yeah, okay, maybe not all that worth it. Anyway, I gotta go. I’m sure Viper’s waiting to chew me up and spit me out. Again. See ya round, Fluttershy.”
And with that, Rainbow Dash trotted over to the staff-building door, and through it.
Fluttershy’s head drooped once more, her gaze finding its familiar spot on the floor. But oddly, her happy fantasy from earlier struggled to return. Instead, in place of her usual daydream, she found her distracted thoughts turning to Rainbow Dash.
The other filly was cavalier and brash and cocky, and... so different to her. And she had a rebellious nature that Fluttershy just didn’t understand. But... she was also the only other pony who’d really been nice to her in all her time at Flight Camp. She’d even stopped to talk to her.
And now she was going into the Viper’s nest. Principal Frost wasn’t so bad as long as you were good. In fact when she had needed it, he’d been nothing but supportive to her, and he always seemed fair. But the students called him Viper for a reason. If you were bad, he bit into you with venom, and you did whatever you had to to avoid getting bitten again. Rainbow Dash might have acted like she dismissed it all as just another day, but a telling off from the Viper was always gruelling, and she felt sorry for her.
And she thought... it would be nice to be nice to her.
Standing, Fluttershy gazed across the plaza towards the rec building. There were lots of foals between here and there, most clustered in small groups, talking or playing ball. She steeled herself and began to trot, trying to pick an innocuous path between them. She kept her head low and her steps quick, certain that upon leaving her safe corner she would be mobbed by hordes of colts and fillies taunting and tormenting her for having dared to enter their social space, but oddly enough this fear never materialised. She did catch a few down-heartening sniggers from some of the groups as she passed, but most of the others simply ignored her, and she reached the door of the building without incident.
She ducked inside and headed for the refectory, and straight for the sweets and desserts counter. This late in the lunch-hour there was thankfully no queue, though unfortunately there wasn’t much left to choose from either. But on the highest shelf, displayed proudly behind the clear screen, Fluttershy’s gaze was drawn to a jumbo-sized, absolutely gorgeous-looking doughnut. Warm and soft pastry dusted with powdered sugar on the reverse, while the front was covered with a generous layer of gooey, rich dark chocolate and topped with crunchy sugar sprinkles of every hue. Beside the confection, a small card declared that the lucky recipient would, within the saccharine dough itself, find a core of intoxicatingly sweet caramel that would perfectly compliment the flavour of the sweet patisserie.
It was perfect. And there was one left.
Fluttershy approached the canteen-pony behind the counter and drew a deep breath.
“Um. One of those, please?”
The doughnut was scooped and bagged.
“Four bits.”
Oh, gosh. It was expensive. But... it didn’t matter. This was for a good cause. Fluttershy paid over four out of the five bits she happened to be carrying, and took the paper bag in her teeth, savouring the sugary aroma from within.
Two minutes later she was creeping along the long corridor of the staff building where, set into the wall to her left was a perfectly normal door, onto which was set a perfectly normal nameplate, and yet one which inspired feelings of dread and fear in most of the more unruly foals in the school.
Pale Frost,
Principal,
Cloudsdale Curriculum Flight School and Summer Flight Camp.
Opposite the door was an alcove containing a receptionist’s desk, though the receptionist wasn’t around at the moment. And next to the door was a line of three chairs, all currently empty. Fluttershy approached the one closest to the door and took a seat, holding the paper bag between her forelegs.
She sat still and waited. After a few minutes she began to hear faint, muffled shouting coming from beyond the office door. One of Viper’s trademark tirades in full flow, rising to its inexorable crescendo. Except, every so often, it would be interrupted and responded to by the yells of a smaller, pitchier voice, slightly quieter in volume but no less passionate.
Eventually the older, deeper voice began to dominate proceedings, becoming louder and louder and finally reaching a thunderous climax. A moment later the door opened, and through it stepped Rainbow Dash, head bowed, biting her bottom lip, and with an expression caught between furious and devastated. Behind her, in the doorway and shepherding her into the corridor, was Principal Frost. But they both stopped and looked up when they noticed her there.
“Fluttershy?” they both said, as one.
Pale Frost frowned a confused frown at her. “You’re not on my list, Fluttershy.” Then, in a softer tone, “Is there something you need to talk to me about?”
“Oh, no. I’m fine. I’m... I was just here to wait for Rainbow Dash. If... if that’s okay?”
Rainbow Dash and Pale Frost both appeared surprised. Pale Frost recovered first though, with a slight nod and a neutral, “Very well.” Slowly he retreated through his office door and closed it with a click.
Dash watched the closing door until it snapped shut. Then she hung her head, whatever defiance she’d been outwardly cultivating falling away like a curtain. She looked up at Fluttershy with a wan smile that she had to force into place. “Heh. Yeah, a whole month’s detention. Go Rainbow Dash.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Dash gave a little shrug, striving for nonchalance with only partial success. She looked back at Fluttershy. “How come you were waiting?”
“Well... I thought that you might need cheering up. So, I brought you something.” She hoofed over the paper bag to Rainbow Dash who sat, opened it with a look of curiosity, and extracted the jumbo doughnut from within. When she saw it her eyes positively sparkled, as much from the surprise of receiving it as from the thing itself.
“Wow, that’s... pretty awesome,” she said warmly. “Thanks.”
Fluttershy smiled a happy smile. She would never be so presumptuous as to call Rainbow Dash her friend, but she was by far the closest thing she was ever likely to get. And watching her go from upset to happy even with such a simple gesture filled her with a pleasant, comfy sense of rightness. It was just nice to be nice.
But Rainbow Dash was rummaging in the bag once more, rustling it and sticking her muzzle inside, as though looking for something. “Hey, where’s yours?”
“Oh,” said Fluttershy, surprised at the question. “It doesn’t matter. There was only one left, and I couldn’t afford another one anyway. You’re the one who needs cheering up.” She smiled.
Rainbow Dash looked back up, open-mouthed, and then down at the cake she held. A moment later she took the pastry in her hooves and tore the doughnut into two pieces, as equal as she could, and offered one of the warm, gooey halves back to her, the sticky caramel in the centre oozing out. “Don’t leave me hanging, Fluttershy,” she said with a grin.
Fluttershy’s kind smile became an elated one, and thirty seconds later, with hooves and mouths that were covered in chocolate and caramel, they were walking out of the staff building, laughing together.
It was just so much nicer to be nice.
And finally, she’d found somepony who thought the same.
* * *
It seemed to make more sense to start in the middle and work outwards, and so Rainbow Dash’s flight into Ponyville quickly brought her to the door of the Sugarcube Corner bakery and café.
The bell above the shop door chimed its familiar ting-a-ling as she entered to see a smiling Mrs. Cake behind the counter, and somewhere behind her, a frantic Mr. Cake trying his level best to cater to two foals, a stack of washing up, and a series of still-baking, but about-to-be-burning scones in the oven.
“Hiya Mrs. Cake. Is Pinkie Pie around?”
“Oh, she’s got the day off today, dearie. She’s upstairs, I think.”
“Great, thanks.” Dash paused a second, looking beyond Mrs. Cake. “Uh... is he okay back there?”
“GAH!” A falling motion accompanied a crashing of pots and pans from the rear of the bakery, followed by the happy warbling of two foals and a low, pained moan.
Mrs. Cake looked round, and then back with a smile. “He’s fine.”
Upstairs Pinkie might have been, but the stairs weren’t the Rainbow Dash way of doing things. She left through the door and took to the air, climbing to the first story and alighted on the balcony of the giant cupcake that crowned the roof of the building. The heat of the day had caused Pinkie to open all of her windows as wide as possible, and since the window was Rainbow Dash’s preferred method of entry anyway, it was thus that she made her ingress.
“Heya Pinkie. What’s happenin’?”
Something very strange, apparently...
Surrounded by a semicircle of no fewer than a dozen electric fans going full blast, Pinkie Pie was on her back on the floor, lying on a beach towel and wearing a pair of oversized comedy sunglasses. Next to her, a bottle of suntan lotion was out and uncapped, and a large beach-umbrella stood open above her, in spite of the fact that she was indoors. Adjacent to where she lay, a wide, deep, circular bowl of water had been set, abutted by a towering hodge-podge construction of books and things that could only be intended as a kind of miniature diving board, and at the top of which her alligator, Gummy, was patiently sat.
She raised her head at the sound of the voice, and broke into a wide grin. “Hi Dashie! Wanna come swelter with me? It’s super fun!”
“Pinkie... should I even ask what’s going on, or should I just put it down to one of those things?”
“It’s a beach-party, silly! Except there aren’t any beaches in Ponyville, so I’ve had to improvise. I’ve got my beach-towel and sun-block...” she said. Then, she indicated the array of room-fans, “I’ve got a nice, coastal breeze going, and I’ve even got... hit it Gummy!–” Gummy stepped off his tiny diving-board, falling two or three feet through the air before landing in the bowl of water, causing a moderate amount of it to splash over Pinkie, “– ocean spray!”
Pinkie beamed with a ta-daa grin. Gummy lazily began swimming laps of the water bowl.
“Uh-huh,” said Dash, though she couldn’t stop a smile. Only Pinkie Pie could go to the beach without actually going to the beach. “Hey, Pinkie? I need your help. You gotta come run a seven-legged race with me, Applejack, Fluttershy, Twilight and Rarity.”
“Ooh, now that sounds like fun. Oh... but... wait a second,” she said as a thinking frown appeared. “If we’re all running it together, that’s nineteen legs. That’s not a seven-legged race at all!” she cried in horror.
“No, Pinkie,” Dash groaned, “We’re not all tying our legs together, we’re doing it in teams! You’re running with Applejack, I’m doing it with Fluttershy, and Rarity’s going with Twilight.”
“Oooooohh”, said Pinkie. “That makes much more sense.”
“So you’re in?”
“I am so there! Oh! I know! I can even bring my own special hoofsie-rope!”
“Oooo-kay. Anyway, if you just head on over to Sweet Apple Acres, AJ’s putting it together. I’ll bring the rest of the girls as soon as I round ‘em up.”
“Okey-dokie-lokie!” said Pinkie with a smile.
Dash smiled back and then turned with a flourish. It was kind of sweet actually. Pinkie Pie hadn’t even asked about the reason for the race, though she had to have suspected there was one. The simple offer of doing something fun with her friends was motivation enough for her to get involved. The reason behind it didn’t really matter.
Yeah... the reason. Actually... as long as she was here, she might as well ask Pinkie too. Twilight was always going on about different perspectives and how they were better, somehow.
She turned back. “Hey, Pinkie? You’ve won stuff before, right? Like contests, games, whatever?” She was sure she had, but she couldn’t really put a hoof on what.
“Oh, absotutely-lutely!” said Pinkie, getting to her hooves. She trotted over to a large and tall wooden armoire stood against the wall, which Rainbow Dash had always taken for a normal wardrobe, containing normal wardrobe things. Pinkie reached up with her hooves and pulled on the oak double-doors. But when they swung open...
“By the pony of greyskull...” breathed Dash.
The huge cupboard was chock so full of so many gleaming trophies that a golden light seemed to spill into the room, brightening it even moreso than the stunning afternoon sun. Everywhere, on every shelf, every inch of space was occupied with a cup, or a ribbon, or a statue, all of them shining fiercely.
Dash’s eyes popped out of her head. “WHAT!?” She gazed open-mouthed at Pinkie. “Pinkie?! What is all this?”
“Oh, this is all kinds of things. I’ve been collecting these since I was a little teensy-filly. Oh, like this one!” she said, reaching in and lifting a medium-sized trophy from a middle shelf – a small statue of what looked like a dancing pony upon a walnut base, into which was set a golden plaque: Ponyville Junior Ice-Skating Championships, 1st Place: Pinkie D. Pie
“Ooh, and this one,” – a golden spoon crossed with a whisk; 32nd Annual Canterlot Confectionary Competition, 1st place: The Doughnuteclairmoussemeringemadness, (jointly awarded) M. Miles, G. LeGrand, P. Pie, C. Cake, C. Cake, D. Joe.
“And this one I’m especially proud of!” A gold medallion hanging from a broad lanyard of blue silk. On the front a picture of a farmbird, on the rear; 12th Annual Ponyville Turkey Call. Winner: Pinkie Pie.
“But this one, is my absolute favourite!” she said excitedly, as she reached deep into the wardrobe. She pulled and she heaved, and eventually managed to bring forth the most enormous gold cup that Rainbow Dash had ever seen. It was even bigger than she was! It sported two large, slender handles, and the top of the lid was crested by a cross within a circle. But beyond that there was no indication as to what it was for.
Rainbow Dash bent down to examine the inscription on the plaque at the base. Equestria National Tic-Tac-Toe Championships. 1st Place: Pinkamena D. Pie.
What? Dash looked incredulously at Pinkie Pie. “Seriously? Noughts and crosses?!”
“What can I say?” Pinkie shrugged, “I am good.”
“But that’s absurd! How can you win a championship at noughts and crosses? They might as well call it Tic-Tac-Tie: it’s always a draw!”
“Oh, not at the professional level, silly. Hey, Dashie, you wanna quick game?”
This was ridiculous! “Yes! You’re on!”
“Okey dokey,” said Pinkie as she sketched a quick grid on the floorboards with some white chalk she seemed to have found from nowhere. “You go first. Do you wanna be X’s, or O’s?”
“X’s.”
Twenty seconds later and Rainbow Dash could only stare in sheer bewilderment as Pinkie drew a line through three O’s.
“But... but... but I made all the right moves! That’s... it’s... Huh?!” Dash’s brain threatened to go pop.
“Best two-out-of-three?”
Dash was about to say a firm, resolute yes. But from somewhere far, far back in the blackest corners of the mind; where the dark things lurk beneath a swirling, thick black layer of ooze and consciousness dares cast only the faintest flicker of light, a deep, foreboding voice issued forth a dire proclamation of doom.
NO, RAINBOW DASH! TREAD NOT THIS PATH! THIS WAY LIES ONLY MADNESS.
“Uh... you know what? I’m good.”
“Oh, okay,” said Pinkie with another smile. “How about a nice game of chess?”
Dash rubbed a face with a hoof, striving for normalcy to return to the world.
She looked back to the pony opposite her. “Pinkie? Why do you do it? Compete? What is it about winning that you like?”
For a moment, Pinkie appeared confused at the question. Then her smile returned. “Oh, that’s easy, silly. It’s all games! Games are fun to play, but they’re only fun if you try and win. And when you win, you get a little warm fuzzy snuggly feeling inside that makes you feel super-special.”
There it was again. “Special?”
“Yep. And even when you don’t win that’s okay too, because somepony else gets to feel special for a change.”
Yeah, it’d be a change for her alright. “Pinkie... did you know Fluttershy’s never won anything?”
“Nopey-dopey,” she said with a head-shake. Then, slowly the thinking-frown appeared again, as she seemed to rack her brains, searching and sifting through the prior conversation. And as the bits and pieces came together a happy grin sprang forth. “Ohmygosh! It’s Fluttershy’s turn today, isn’t it?”
“Well, that’s kinda what I’m hoping–”
“Say no more!” Pinkie interrupted, holding up a hoof. Then, to herself, darkly, “I’m going to need to take much more rope than I thought...”
“Pinkie? You okay?”
“Don’t worry Rainbow Dash! You go get the others, and I’ll meet you at Applejack’s. Once I’ve... prepared.”
“Oooo...kay.” And with that Rainbow Dash turned – cautiously it had to be said – and headed out through the open window as Pinkie gave her a cheery wave goodbye.
She had Team Earth-Pony on board. Time to start gathering Team Unicorn.
* * *
The clock ticked. And then it ticked. And then it ticked. And then it ticked. And then it ticked...
Urgh!
Rainbow Dash slumped over, trying to bury her forehead into the desk at which she was sat. Her low groan attracted a brief, neutral glance from Viper – sat at the teacher’s desk at the head of the classroom – before he returned his muzzle to his book. Dash, sat right at the back in the centre, restlessly raised her head again, looked around the room for the fiftieth time, found nothing new in the way of stimulation, and finally lowered it back to the desk, pressing her muzzle into it. She groaned again.
She hated detention.
It was the one punishment they could get to her with, and they knew it. Everything else – cleaning the locker-room, or flying laps of the air-circuit or whatever – she could handle because she could do it, and do it fast! But this... with detention she couldn’t do anything except wait for it to end. It was horrible!
The fact she was sitting in the same classroom in which she’d caused a deluge and thus landed herself in detention in the first place was, she was certain, supposed to be a form of poetic justice that she refused to dignify with contemplation. Besides, that wasn’t what got to her. The silence wasn’t the worst part either, nor either, surprisingly, was it the boredom.
No, if she were being truly honest with herself, the worst part of detention – the part that turned it from being merely brain-sappingly dull into the worst punishment the school could make her endure – was being alone.
It wasn’t like she’d ever admit it, but she liked having other ponies around. Needed them, almost. She liked talking to them, bantering with them, pranking with them, showing off to them! That was what she was about. What she was for! After all, what was the point of being awesome if no-one could see she was awesome? Being forced into a room by herself took all that away from her, leaving her with... not a whole lot. When she was alone, she felt like a pale shadow of herself.
If there was even one other pony with her, this wouldn’t be nearly as unbearable. She didn’t know why exactly. It wouldn’t be like they’d be able to do anything. Viper might have his attention in that book but she knew from past experience that he had eyes like a hawk. Her quest for the perfect spitwad was on permanent hiatus at the moment, and had been for weeks. But just knowing that there was somepony else with her, that they were in something together in some way, would have made this tolerable.
Viper knew. That was exactly why she was alone. This was punishment, after all.
The clock ticked.
Rainbow groaned yet again. Forced herself to find the bright side. She’d endured three and a half weeks of this. Two more days after today and that was it. Punishment over.
The clock ticked.
Arrrrgh!
At the far end of the room, Viper suddenly looked up from his book, his attention caught by something outside the windowed classroom door in the wall on his left, but which Rainbow Dash, from her acute angle at the rear of the room, couldn’t see. Viper placed his book on the desk and stood. He walked over to the door and opened it, poking his head through into the corridor.
A quiet conversation seemed to take place. Dash could make out Viper’s tones, oddly calm and reassuring, but the voice of the other participant was too subdued to be heard. The conversation lasted maybe a minute or so, and then Viper came back into the room, closing the door softly.
With an odd, conflicted look directed at Rainbow Dash, he made his way back to the teacher’s desk and sat, his book going unregarded for once. And when Rainbow looked up questioningly at him, he made sure he had her full attention before he spoke.
“Fluttershy is outside,” he said, matter-of-factly.
Dash felt a little jolt of surprise and failed to hide it. “Why? Is she in trouble?” she asked. She wasn’t normally supposed to talk in detention. She half expected a rebuke for such a direct question, though none came.
Instead, Viper gave a sad little shake of his head. He looked at the desk before him, sighing through his nose. “She’s not in trouble. But I’m aware that she’s had a particularly difficult day today. It seems it’s rather upset her. I think she’s come because she wants to talk about it.”
Dash nodded agreeably. “Look, Vi– uh, Principal Frost... if you need to go talk to her about whatever... you can do that. I’ll still totally be here when you get back,” she said. And she meant it too. It was weird, like Fluttershy’s arrival had triggered a kind of ceasefire between them, for the greater good. Besides, if she did abscond it would basically be like running away, and she was still determined to show Viper that she could take whatever punishments he could dish out.
But Viper simply looked back with genuine surprise. “Rainbow Dash,” he said, “It’s not me she’s waiting for.”
Oh. Dash shot a look towards the clock, the minute hand infuriatingly stuck at half-past. It ticked. She ground her teeth in frustration.
“She asked me if she could come in and sit next to you until you were done,” continued Viper. “I told her no.”
“What? Why not?!” cried Dash before she could bite her tongue. Oh, she was sure she was getting told off for this now, but she’d already started down the path. “I don’t mind if she comes in – don’t refuse on my account. And it’s not like it’s any skin off your muzzle. If she wants to come sit here, why can’t she?” Okay, yeah, this was punishment, but come on, was he that cold? If Fluttershy was out there feeling upset then really was there any harm if she just sat there?
Viper met her gaze with an oddly neutral expression. Instead of the anger and the dressing down she expected for speaking out of turn, he simply gave a very slow, very shallow nod.
“You’re free to go, Rainbow Dash.”
Huh? She looked back at Viper with only surprise, then glanced at the clock a final time. “But... I... still have another half-hour.”
Viper frowned at her, his expression perfectly conveying the thought which was even now jumping into her own mind. Did you really just say that?
“You’re free to go,” he repeated, slightly softer now. “And I’m not expecting you back either. Your punishment is over. If you haven’t learned your lesson by now, I’m naïve to think that two more days would drill it into you.”
Carefully, Dash rose from her seat at the desk, walking cautiously to the classroom door as though this were all a trick. As she reached it and put her hoof on the handle, Viper opened up his book again, and spoke. “Rainbow Dash? I’m... trusting that you at least won’t use the time I’m giving you back for anything... disruptive. Is that fair?”
Dash looked back. She wasn’t about to openly make a deal with Viper but... yeah, that was fair. She gave him a careful nod.
“Go on then,” he said, not looking up from his book. Dash tugged the handle and opened the door, stepping through and allowing it to swing closed behind her. Freedom had never tasted so ambivalent.
As soon as she stepped into the corridor though, Fluttershy looked up and Dash caught a surprised, but happy smile on her lips. And immediately Dash felt familiar bravado and confidence flowing back into her, warming her insides like heated honey. It was like being around other ponies was fuel for her or something, and an unbidden, cavalier grin found her lips. “Hey, Fluttershy,” she said casually.
“He’s... letting you out early?” said Fluttershy, hopefully.
“What can I say? Prolonged exposure to my awesomeness is lethal to some ponies,” she quipped as she began to stroll, heading for the exit with Fluttershy falling into step beside her. “Luckily, you’re pretty tough. I’m pretty sure you can handle it.”
From the corner of her eye she noted the faint flush of pink colouring Fluttershy’s cheeks. “You... really think I’m ‘tough’?”
“Survived a fall from Cloudsdale to the ground without even a scratch? Hay yeah, you’re tough,” said Dash confidently. They reached the set of double-doors which led outside, and Dash halted before them, looking a little more seriously at Fluttershy who drew to a stop herself. “Look... is everything okay? It’s just, Viper said you were upset about something that happened today.”
Fluttershy looked at her, then away. “Oh, it’s okay. It’s nothing, really. Today hasn’t really been anything out of the ordinary. Especially for a pegasus in a flight school who can’t really fly.”
“Fluttershy?”
“It’s okay,” she repeated. “Besides, I’m sure you’d rather talk about something else, um, that is, if you don’t mind talking to me–”
“Fluttershy,” said Dash, a little more firmly, and sitting now. “We’re not going anywhere until you tell me, okay? I’m listening.”
Fluttershy sat too, if hesitantly. She risked a quick glance at her, making eye-contact for just a second, and following that couldn’t bring herself to look at anything but the ground. Dash made no move and held her tongue, determined that Fluttershy would be the one to start talking. And after a long, indecisive pause, Fluttershy finally took a breath.
“I... Vertical loops,” she said. “We were training vertical loops. The other foals in my class were doing two, three, even four in a row, and when it came to my turn... I couldn’t. Not even one. I just flopped out of the air and landed on my back. The instructor thought I was faking it... or doing it on purpose... so he made me try again. And again. And again. And...” she sniffled and there was moisture in her eyes now, “...and every time I did, the teasing got worse. Flutterflop. Floppershy. I’ve been getting called all sorts of names all day and in the end I just... I just really needed somewhere I could go where I wouldn’t be laughed at. Just for a little bit. So I came to detention and asked if I could sit with you. I– I hope you don’t mind,” she finished, wiping her eyes with a hoof.
Dash frowned a thinking frown, her flight-orientated brain having immediately latched on to the primary issue. Vertical loops, huh? Easy enough. She stood again and pushed the doors open, leading Fluttershy out onto the campus into the late-afternoon sun. “Okay, no biggie,” she proclaimed. “Loop-de-loops are tricky at first, but once you crack ‘em, it’s actually pretty easy to string several together. You'll be doing it in no-time. You’re probably instinctively flapping while you’re inverted, or maybe even reverse-flapping? That’s not the point. It’s your momentum from the climb that’s supposed to keep you in the–” she caught herself, cutting herself off when Fluttershy returned her glance with an expression of confused bewilderment.
Fluttershy might have been having trouble with the exercise... but that wasn’t the reason she’d come to find her, was it?
You know what? She had a much better idea.
She smiled a warm smile at Fluttershy. “Look,” she said. “It turns out, I’ve got some free time I wasn’t exactly expecting. There’s this little place just off campus that only I know about. Nopony else ever goes there and it’s totally private. We’ll fly, we’ll practice loop-de-loops, and we’ll talk about stuff. Just you and me. Whaddya say?”
She didn’t even need to hear the reply. Fluttershy’s face said it all.
Carousel Boutique was the next logical stop on Dash’s route and she landed at the door, knocking briskly.
“Come in!”
Inside, Rarity was dealing with the heat the only way she knew how. By indulging in sheer, unadulterated decadence.
Lying on an obscenely lavish chaise-lounge quilted in thick, red, velvet cushioning, and trimmed with gold inlaid with gemstones, Rarity reclined with perfect grace while her magic simultaneously wafted her with an enormous paper-fan of the kind normally held by royal ponyservants of yore, and repeatedly scooped spoonfuls of somehow-not-quite-melting ice-cream into her mouth. Not a bead of sweat sullied her pristine brow and only the occasional sip of a carefully placed tabletop glass of lemonade – complete with parasol and designer ice-cubes in the shape of cut diamonds – interrupted the contented little noises she made after every mouthful of dessert.
“Rainbow Dash, come in darling,” said Rarity, as she floated the large fan over and began using it to waft lukewarm air into Dash’s face. It was, admittedly, cooler than the air outside.
Dash braced herself. “Hey, Rarity. I need a favour.” Of all of her friends, trying to convince Rarity was always going to be the toughest sell.
“Why of course dear. What is it you need? A new, streamlined flight-suit? Perhaps some stylish evening-wear?”
“I need you to run in a seven-legged race with Twilight against me and Fluttershy, and Applejack and Pinkie Pie over at Sweet Apple Acres this evening.”
The fan ceased its incessant wafting. From the chaise-lounge, Rarity raised her head enough to look at Rainbow Dash. The scrunchy-nose, twitchy ears and suddenly pallid expression were all clear indicators of her disinclination to engage in such an... ‘uncouth’ activity. “Augh, well, um, I need to make sure, ah, that is, I’m quite certain I’m washing my mane...”
Dash lowered her head and drew a deep breath.
“Please?”
The scrunchy nose vanished and the expression turned worried, her eyes anxious. “Darling? Is something the matter?”
“No. It’s just... hey, you’re a winner too, right?” Dash looked up again. “You’ve won like... fashion-y competition-y things before...”
Rarity chuckled lightly. “Rainbow Dash, fashion’s not a competition, it's a way of life. It doesn't matter which designer you're wearing: when you look fabulous, everypony wins!”
“Uh huh.” Rainbow Dash raised a skeptical eyebrow. Then she unfurled her wings and started flapping, heading for the staircase.
“Rainbow Dash? Where are you going?”
“Your room!” she called back, halfway up the stairs already.
Rarity coughed and spluttered on her most recent sip of lemonade. “What? Without asking? Without permission? Rainbow Dash! Where are your manners!?” she cried. But though she sat up enough to yell, she made no further effort to remove herself from her comfortable seat as the fan once more began lazily wafting her.
A moment later, Dash returned with a trophy in her hooves – a medium-sized gold cup set on a wooden base. The engraving on the plaque read, Manehatten Fashion Week. Winner: “Hotel Chic,” by Rarity.
“Not a competition, huh?”
“Ah, aeungh, I, well...” she stammered, a shade of pink highlighting her cheeks. She recovered quickly and another spoonful of ice-cream slipped its way daintily between her lips. “There’s nothing wrong with having your work objectively appreciated.”
“Rarity? When you won this... it made you feel special, right?”
Rarity thought for a moment, her hoof finding her chin. “I suppose that’s a succinct enough way to sum it up. It was nice to see that my hard work – and that of all my friends, of course – had been so highly regarded.”
“That’s not the only thing you’ve won though. Like, you’ve ‘won’ important contracts and stuff before, right?” Did they count? They probably counted. “When Sapphire Shores comes to you and says she wants you to design her next batch of whatchamathingies, you still get that special feeling?” It really was a lot like winning. Coming first. Being the best.
Rarity nodded reticently. “Yes, I suppose. But why are you asking, darling? Surely you know all this better than most. And why do you suddenly want us all to run in a silly seven-legged...?”
Before she could finish the sentence, Rarity's expression transformed from confused to surprised in almost the blink of an eye. “Oh.” She locked Rainbow Dash's gaze. “Rainbow Dash, I'm so sorry. Of course it's not silly. I will be there with bells on, so to speak!” she said with a sudden, wide smile.
Rainbow Dash found herself a little taken aback. “Huh? Just like that? Aren't you going to complain about the dust, the dirt, the sweat, the whole... uncivilised-ness?”
Rarity made an eugh face, but hid it again quickly. “Yes, well, normally it wouldn't be my ideal choice of evening. But it wouldn't be the first time I've sacrificed a small amount of dignity in the name of a good cause. And this...” Rarity finally rose to her hooves from the chaise-lounge, standing next to Rainbow Dash with a smile. She placed a forehoof on hers and looked deep into her eyes–
“Rarity, what are you doing?”
“Why, I'm standing next to you with a smile, placing my forehoof on yours and looking deep into your eyes, darling.”
“Why?”
Rarity's smile only grew. “Because, Rainbow Dash, I believe this may well be the kindest, most generous thing you’ve ever done.”
“Uh, it... is?”
“Why yes.” Rarity fluttered her eyelids. “Because you do know how wonderful that feeling is. And now you're going to such extraordinary lengths... because you want somepony you care deeply about to share that feeling too. It really is... so...” – a small tear came to her eye– “...sweet.” She finished with a high-pitched eep, and wiped the moisture away with a levitated handkerchief.
“Ooo...kaaaay,” said Rainbow Dash, carefully withdrawing her hoof from beneath Rarity's. “But, when you tell everypony else how great I am, could you maybe replace the word ‘sweet’ with ‘awesome?’”
“Of course. Never fear, I will do my part to help you help Fluttershy, no matter how dusty or... uncivil... it may get.”
“How’d... you know it was for Fluttershy?”
Rarity smiled a knowing smile. “The process of elimination followed by an educated guess, dear.”
“Oh.”
And that was the end of the conversation. Rarity was on board, and on the same page too. They bid each other goodbye and Rainbow Dash left the Boutique, taking easily to the air.
One more friend to go.
* * *
It was different this time.
Every time Rainbow Dash had been into Viper’s office, events had followed a similar pattern. He’d yell, she’d yell; the topic would progress from her behaviour, to her punishment, to what was expected of her from now on. Then she’d be kicked out the door back to class. Before that happened though, she’d always give a good account of herself, and they’d already exchanged angry words for five minutes.
But now, all of a sudden, Viper had stopped mid-tirade, let out a long, angry sigh, and turned to face the large, semicircular window overlooking the campus grounds with an odd scowl. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end in a way they never had before.
If Viper had been angry on those previous visits, now he seemed furious, smouldering with barely contained rage.
“I have tried so hard with you, Rainbow Dash,” he growled. “But I don’t know what to do anymore.”
He turned towards her, his face a picture of thunder. “As a teacher, there is nothing that infuriates me more than seeing a talent go to waste. But you even seem determined to take that to new heights! Your juvenile pranks were bad enough, though at least meant in jest. Your continuing disregard for our rules was much less acceptable. And now, sleeping through classes? Displaying outright contempt for our lessons and, by extension, your fellow students!” Viper snorted so forcefully that she felt the breeze where she stood. “I have told you too many times to count, Rainbow Dash: you are one of the most naturally gifted young fliers I have ever seen. And yet all you seem to want to do with that ability is squander it. Of all the students this year, you have the potential to graduate with one of the highest grades we have ever awarded, and yet you... refuse! You are superbly capable, and yet have recorded scores against only four of the required twenty disciplines! And one of those, I am convinced only because you believed we were not looking! Why?”
“Ugh. Because your ‘lessons’ are super-lame! I could pass all your stupid tests in my sleep!” yelled Rainbow Dash, meeting his stare.
Viper sighed another angry sigh. “Yes. You seem determined to sleep your way to graduation, don’t you? And if it were only you that was affected by your behaviour, I would be far less irascible. Our lessons may be less challenging than someone of your ability would like, but there are other students at this school, Rainbow Dash! Ones who need more help than you. And when your pranks and hi-jinks, and the snoring from your mid-lesson naps, interferes with their ability to learn and do well... that, I find unacceptable.” He glowered at her again, his gaze piercing, as though it were a dagger of ice. She glared back, outwardly undaunted but inwardly... just a little guilty. She’d never meant others to suffer. Viper was getting to her again. He always managed it, somehow.
“And what vexes me more than anything else... is that I don’t understand it! If you were lazy and selfish, content only to be a disruptive influence, that I could at least fathom. But you’re neither of those! I have seen you push yourself to astonishing levels and accomplish otherwise impossible feats while you have been here. And you have an altruistic streak that is wider than you’d ever care to admit. Look at what you’ve done for Fluttershy, for instance. Or did you think I hadn’t noticed?”
That struck a chord and a pang of annoyance fired. “Hey! You leave Fluttershy out of this. She’s got nothing to do with it!”
“No, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy is very relevant! Do you know how much her grades have improved? She used to struggle in every area. Now she is on course to graduate with a score in the sixties! That’s down to you! Because you give her something we cannot teach! Confidence! You could be a role-model to her and so many others. You could be helping them, but instead of working with us, by demonstrating your abilities and encouraging your classmates, you choose to sleep through lessons, and your infantile pranks only serve to distract and hinder their progress. Well I have had enough, Rainbow Dash! I will not see you waste your skills here, and I will not see other pupils suffer because of your behaviour. If you can’t follow the rules and participate with your fellow students, then there is no place for you at this school!”
Oh. Snap.
Dash looked up, momentarily shocked from her anger. Had he just said...?
An instant later her frown returned, her teeth clenched and she spun on her hooves, marching for the door. She yanked it open roughly, stepped into the corridor, and slammed it shut behind her.
The click the latch made should have sounded familiar. She’d heard it shut a dozen times before. But this time, somehow, it sounded different. Thicker. Denser. More final.
And as she stood in the corridor of the staff building, opposite the receptionist’s desk, she knew... just instinctively knew... that she’d never be walking through that door again.
She wasn’t welcome here any more.
Fluttershy had been in the camp dormitory when it arrived. It was the most wonderful news ever. In fact, it was her best day ever. She was so happy.
She had to tell somepony. Anypony.
Well... actually, there was only one other pony in the school that she could even consider telling. But she just had to get it out, before she burst.
And then, as though by magic, Rainbow Dash appeared! Trotting through the nearby dormitory door, past her, and straight to the far side of the long, thirty-bunk room. She was holding her head low, glaring at the floor, never even acknowledging her as the only other pony there.
“Oh, Rainbow Dash! You’re here! Oh, I just have to tell somepony! I just got a letter from my parents and... it’s the most wonderful thing!”
Rainbow Dash ignored her. She’d dragged her saddlebag out from beneath her set of bunk-beds with her teeth, hurled it onto the lower bed, whipped the flap open, and was now shoving her personal belongings into it. Hard.
“Rainbow... Dash?” Fluttershy cautiously dared to approach her, tucking her letter beneath her wing.
Still she was ignored. The sound of things being stuffed forcefully into a canvas bag continued without respite.
“Is... something wrong?”
“I’m leaving,” said Dash, brusquely.
Fluttershy let out a small gasp. “L-leaving? Why? What’s happened?”
“Viper just kicked me out. So, I’m outta here.”
“Oh, I’m sure he didn’t mean you to leave. He’s never expelled anypony before.”
“Yeah, well, he made it pretty clear he didn’t want me around. So, fine, I’m gone! And I’m never coming back here as long as I live!”
“But... we’re so close to graduation.”
Rainbow Dash spun with a rapid fury. “Hey! I don’t need to graduate from this two-bit place, okay? There are other flight schools out there! The Arrows, the Angels, the Speedsters! Advanced places that would be thrilled to train an awesome flier like me!”
Fluttershy winced and flinched a little, taking a step backwards.
Dash snorted and turned back to the bed, stuffing her final few trinkets haphazardly into the bag–
“I’ll miss you.”
Everything stopped.
Rainbow Dash turned back to look at Fluttershy. The poor, timid pony in front of her was utterly crestfallen, and seeing her thus just leeched the fury all away until there was none left.
“Hey, c’mon, it’s not like you got kicked out. And, from what I hear, you’re gonna get an okay final grade. Besides, I thought you said you had some good news. So? What is it?” Dash even managed a smile.
Fluttershy looked downcast at the floor. One of the most exciting days of her life was suddenly one of the saddest. “I’m leaving too. After graduation.”
“Uh... everypony leaves after graduation. That’s kind of the point, Fluttershy.” The joke was horribly misplaced, meeting only a moment of awkward silence.
“I mean, I’m leaving Cloudsdale.”
“You... are? Why?”
Fluttershy removed the letter from beneath her wing. She looked at it a moment before offering it to Rainbow Dash, who began to read.
“Wow. Your parents are just giving you a house? What are they, rich?”
“Um... not really... well... kind of. It actually used to belong to my great great aunt, but nopony’s lived there in a long time. And... when I told them I wanted to live on the ground... well... it makes sense I suppose.”
“The ground? Ugh. Seriously? And, ‘Ponyville?’ I’ve never even heard of this place.”
“Oh, it’s only a small, peaceful village, and the cottage is just on the outskirts. I can restore it and live there quietly and have lots and lots of animals to look after. It’s going to be wonderful. It’s everything I could want. Well, almost.”
Rainbow Dash looked up from the letter and raised an eyebrow.
Fluttershy felt her cheeks flush. “Well, I just thought it would be nice to have a visitor every once in a while.”
Dash sighed, handing the letter back. “Sorry, Fluttershy. I mean, good luck and all, but... I gotta stay in Cloudsdale and really work on getting myself into the Wonderbolts. Especially after this.”
Fluttershy dipped her head again. “I know.”
A moment of silence passed, threatening to stretch into awkwardness.
“Look, uh, I should go,” said Dash as she flipped-and-tossed her saddlebags onto her back, securing the strap with her teeth. She’d calmed completely though, and her movements were no longer abrupt and coloured with rage. With her baggage firmly in place she sauntered to the door, leaving Fluttershy stood next to her old bunk. This was where they parted, it seemed. She was leaving the school and never coming back, and in two weeks, Fluttershy would be leaving Cloudsdale for good. They’d probably never see each other again.
As she reached the door to the dorm, a quiet voice from behind caught up to her.
“Thank you,” it said. It didn’t need to say anything else.
Dash turned, flashing her cavalier smile one final time. “So long, Fluttershy.”
It might have sounded like a, ‘see you around.’
But they both knew it was goodbye.
The cottage was dilapidated. Certainly in a far poorer state of repair than she’d expected. Most of the windows were broken with the shutters hanging off. Plantlife sprawled and spread into cracks in the wall and other places it had no business being. The only mercy was that the thatched, leafed roof at least appeared intact.
She pushed and pressed on the door, struggling to budge it. It was ill-fitted into the door-frame which seemed to have cracked and distorted, and at least one of the hinges felt like it had seized. After a few moments of effort she finally shoved it open.
Inside, ivy and vineweed had invaded the floor and climbed many of the walls. The paint was peeling, the floorboards were warped, most of the furniture that was still recogniseable was damaged or unusable, and the musty scent of damp pervaded the ruined house.
At her entrance, a host of small animals – chipmunks, birds, squirrels and the like – scattered, heading for the open window at the rear, startled at the loud bang of the door.
One of the animals – a white rabbit – began bounding away with his cohorts, but tripped on a vine, tumbling and landing awkwardly on a hindleg, giving a small, pained cry.
“Oh, goodness. I’m so sorry!” gasped Fluttershy as she hurried to help. “You poor angel, are you okay?”
The rabbit looked up, no longer attempting to flee, and allowed Fluttershy to scoop it into her forelegs. Fluttershy gave it a soft hug. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”
She sat there cradling the rabbit, and looked around the cottage, a colossal list of things that needed doing to make it livable forming in her mind. She had a lot of work ahead of her, but she knew it would be worth it. This was her home now.
It was everything she could ever want.
Almost.
* * *
The castle was Rainbow Dash’s final stop. The glittering spires and crystal walls reflected the afternoon sun’s rays so intensely that it was almost difficult to look at. But when the light hit a faceted surface just so, it refracted into a stunning rainbow of colour. The castle might have seemed out of place just a few short months ago, but it really was the kind of place that grew on you the more you were around it. Rainbow Dash might not appreciate it in the same way that Rarity did, but even she had to admit that it was a pretty cool place to live.
Making her entrance through yet another open window – the summer heat really was her friend in this respect – Rainbow Dash found herself in one of the palace’s long, crystal hallways, just outside the room that Twilight had designated the castle library.
The first thing that she registered was the smell of smoke coming from the library doors.
The second thing she noticed was the smoke pouring out of the crack between the library doors.
She gawped. “Twilight?!”
The doors flew open with a crash and a beleaguered Twilight sprinted out, coughing. Her mane was singed, and her coat bore patches of soot-stained grey, along with a superficial scratch or two. Drawing to a stop with a skid just beyond the doors, she took note of Rainbow Dash stood there with a look of utmost shock.
“Hi, Rainbow,” she said with somewhat unwarranted calm. “Would you excuse me just a moment?” Then she turned her head in the direction of the lengthy corridor. “Spike!”
“I’m on it!” replied a familiar, scaly voice, and a moment later Spike – dressed in bright yellow wellington boots and a similarly coloured fireman’s helmet – sprinted forth and straight through the doors. Rainbow Dash only caught a brief glimpse of the scarlet fire-extinguisher he carried, but she made out the most important words written in large white letters. FOR USE ON MAGICAL FIRES.
A moment later there was a loud, deep hissing sound from within the library as the extinguisher was deployed. Several seconds passed while Twilight looked awkwardly at Rainbow Dash. “Uh... he’ll just be a minute.”
CRASH. HISS. HIISSSSSS!
“So, how are you, Rainbow?”
“Gah, Twilight!”
“Um... excuse me.” Twilight took off sprinting through the doors.
HISS. CRASH. FWOOMPH. BK-AWK!
The noise died and a minute later, Twilight and Spike re-emerged from the library wearing weary but triumphant grins and wiping sweat from their brows.
Twilight turned back to Dash. “Sorry about that. So, what can I do for you, Rainbow Dash?”
Rainbow Dash could only look on in bewilderment. In fact, bewilderment and confusion were pretty much her go-to emotions this afternoon. “Uh... what just happened?”
“Oh, that? Well, the castle doesn’t have a basement. At least, not one that I’ve found yet. So I thought I’d set aside a corner of the library for science.”
“And now the library has a whole new corner that wasn’t there before,” said Spike irritably, discarding the spent extinguisher.
“That’s enough, Spike. If every experiment worked exactly as planned, we wouldn’t need to do them at all,” admonished Twilight. She turned back to Rainbow Dash with an expectant smile.
Ooo...kay? Dash roughly shook her head. First Pinkie and now Twilight. The heat was really doing weird things to some of her friends.
Never mind. To business. She had this routine down pretty well by now.
“Alright Twilight. Where's yours?”
Twilight raised an eyebrow. “My... what?”
“Your trophy cabinet. Or cupboard or whatever. You know, where you keep all your medals from stuff you’ve won?”
The eyebrow fell and Twilight gave a light chuckle. “Oh, I don’t have anything like that.”
What? “What? You don’t have any trophies?! But you’re a super-braniac! You’ve gotta have won like, magic contests, or science competitions, or book-reading marathons – if they exist – or something!”
“Well, I guess most of my ‘victories’ haven’t come from competitions, per se. More, ‘climactic battles with the fate of Equestria hanging in the balance.’ I don’t think they usually give trophies for those–”
“Just gigantic stained-glass-windows,” muttered Spike under his breath.
“I did win first place at the Canterlot Science Pageant when I was a filly at school. Is that the sort of thing you meant?”
Dash rolled her eyes. That would have to do. Pretty lame, but still a win. “Okay, right. And when you won it, you felt special, didn’t you?”
Twilight’s muzzle found the sky. “I most certainly did not. At no point did I think that winning a science competition should set me apart as more important than any other pony.”
Uh... okay... this really wasn’t going to plan. “Right... but it was a contest. You were trying to win it, right?”
“Well, no, actually,” said Twilight. “I was much more interested in the learning, and the experience behind it. Winning was simply a by-product of my thoroughness and attention to detail. I entered it to further the cause of science. After all,” she said, “How to build a potato-battery powered alarm-clock is something ponies need to know.”
“So, you don’t even care that you won?!”
“Rainbow Dash... you look a little pale. Is everything okay?”
“No!” she cried, the word bursting forth before she’d even had a chance to catch it. She sat and slumped.
Twilight put on a worried look. She walked close to Rainbow Dash and put a foreleg gently on her shoulder for a moment. Dash sighed.
“Every week, Fluttershy and I play a game over at her place. Every week it’s the same game, and every week I win. And it’s not fair. Why doesn’t she get to win sometimes?”
“Well, why don’t you just play a different game?”
“No... you don’t get it. Fluttershy’s never won any games. She’s never won anything. I mean actually, literally anything.”
“What are you talking about? She won a silver medal with you at the Equestria Games! That was an amazing achievement!”
Rainbow sighed again. “Yeah, I know. And believe me, that was awesome, and it’s not like I’m not super-proud of it. But... it wasn’t a win. It’s not something she can point at and say, ‘right then, I was the best.’
“And then today, she actually says she doesn’t know why winning’s so important to ponies. Like, why should we bother trying to win? And the only explanation that anypony’s been able to come up with so far is because it gives you a kind of special feeling inside.”
“Well that’s certainly... vague,” said Twilight with a little frown, apparently affronted that ‘vagueness’ should exist at all.
“I know, right? I can’t do any better though.”
Twilight brightened. “Oh, well I can help with that.”
Dash looked up. “What?”
Twilight turned her head to address her dragon assistant. “Spike, I need my copy of Triumphs and Tragedies.”
Spike looked over at the still-shut library doors, from which thin tendrils of probably-not-poisonous smoke continued to emanate, and then back with a nonplussed expression. He drew a deep, deep breath and dashed into the library.
“Uh... is he gonna be okay?” asked Dash, noting the fumes that had by now faded from billowing and jet black to wisps of pale grey.
“Oh, he’s just being melodramatic,” smiled Twilight.
A moment later Spike, grasping a large hardback and coughing theatrically, re-emerged from the library. He held up the cover to reveal the full title: Triumphs and Tragedies – a Treatise on the Psychological Aspects of Victory and Defeat. Twilight took the book in her aura and opened it, flipping expertly through the pages.
“Ah, here we go. ‘Attaining victory confers many benefits, both tangible and intangible, on the victor.’” She finished the quote and began to skim and summarise. “Let’s see. Victory often leads to measurable boosts in self-confidence and self-worth. It can earn one respect and perhaps fame, if briefly. Winning can also improve subsequent performance as a byproduct, and it can serve as inspiration for others to achieve. Plus there are often literal rewards that go with winning. Trophies, medals or other symbols of achievement are often given, or perhaps even monetary prizes may be offered, depending on the competition. All of these can be seen as incentives to achieve victory.” She closed the book and used her aura to offer it to Rainbow Dash with a smile. “There’s more in there if you’re interested in the psychology behind it.”
Dash stuck out her tongue and gently pushed the book away. Yeah, yeah, that all made sense. But there was something else. Something that she was becoming more and more convinced that you just couldn’t define in words. Heck of a job she’d have convincing Twilight of that though. Twilight thought that everything could be researched, calculated, explained.
“Twilight... when you won first place in that faire–”
“Pageant.”
“– Pageant, what actually happened?”
Twilight’s brow creased as memory sparked to life. “Well, myself and the other foals were all gathered in the castle entrance hall. The judges took a slip of paper up the stairs and gave it to Princess Celestia. She opened it, and said, ‘Twilight Sparkle.’”
“Yeah. And?”
“She... she called me to come up the stairs to her. I stood right next to her. She gave me the prize and told me, ‘Congratulations.’ She said... she said that I’d worked hard. That I’d earned it. That I deserved it.”
“And how’d you feel?” asked Dash.
“I... was thrilled. I mean, right then, it was the most...” Twilight blinked and looked up, a trace of moisture in her eyes. “Oh.”
Dash nodded. “See? Whatever that is; whatever you want to call it, I just... I want Fluttershy to have it too, y’know?”
Twilight nodded quietly. She let out a breath. “Okay. So, we’re going to need a plan.”
Dash blinked. “Oh, nonononono. Heh. We already have a plan. I just need your help is all.”
“Oh, okay,” said Twilight, not quite able to hide her disappointment. “What’s the plan?”
“It’s a seven-legged race over at Sweet Apple Acres. You and Rarity versus me and Fluttershy versus AJ and Pinkie Pie.”
“Huh. I’d have gone with a Staring contest...” said Twilight, a little absently. Then her brow furrowed once again. “Who came up with that?”
“Me. And Applejack,” said Dash. Then, after a reflective beat, “Mostly Applejack,” she admitted. “Why?”
“Rainbow, a team in a seven-legged race is only as fast as its slowest runner. I might not be able to beat you in a race, but what if I can beat Fluttershy? What if Rarity can too? What if we win?”
“Well... don’t!”
“Rainbow Dash,” said Twilight kindly, “If you want Fluttershy to have that feeling you’re talking about; if you want her to win because she’s the best, then she has to win for real. We can’t just fix the race to let her win. That’s not fair on her.”
“I do want her to win for real,” protested Dash.
Twilight’s expression softened and she sat, “Rainbow? Do me a favour and just think for a second. Why are you doing this? Is it because Fluttershy wants to win... or is it because you want her to win?”
Dash looked back at Twilight. Eventually she sat too. “I just... want her to know what it’s like. I don’t want her to miss out on having something that everypony else seems to have. And I want her to feel like a winner because otherwise... she might think she’s not special, or something.”
Twilight nodded subtly, wrangling some sort of decision from her brain. At length she took a breath and let it out. “Okay then. We can make this work... somehow. But you’re still going to have to win fairly. And since we’re all going to be in the race, we’re going to need a neutral adjudicator to make sure things stay fair,” she said, half-turning to her dragon assistant.
Dash also turned to the final member of their small group. “Whaddya say, Spike? Wanna help us out?”
Spike smiled and shrugged. “Sure. Not like I have anything better to do right now anyway.” He gave a little kick to the empty fire-extinguisher, still on the floor.
Dash was about to turn back to Twilight when she caught herself. “Hey, uh, Spike? You wanna weigh in on the whole, ‘what it means to win’ thing?”
“Me? Undefeated Ponyville Top Trumps Champion, Hoofball edition,” said Spike with a smug smile. “Oh yeah, and uh, special feeling yadda yadda yadda, totally get it. On with the show, already.”
“Awesome. Okay, I’ll see you both at Sweet Apple Acres. Now all I gotta do is go get...” She trailed off as a stray thought attacked. She looked back at Twilight. “Prize?”
Twilight looked back, confused.
“You said Princess Celestia gave you a prize. But you don’t have it anymore?” asked Dash. Then she buried her forehoof in her face and answered her own question. “It was a book token, wasn’t it?”
For Twilight, shock didn’t cover it. “How did you kn–?!”
“Please Twilight, a school competition? It’s always a book token. Lemme guess, five bits from the Amarezon bookstore, right?”
“It was ten bits, actually,” said Twilight haughtily.
“And you don’t have it anymore because you spent it, didn’t you? Ugh, you know, you’re probably the only pony in Equestria to ever win a book token and actually use it to buy a book! What was it, huh?” asked Dash with a grin.
“Well, it was the first time I’d ever won anything. I guess I wanted to study the psychological effects of winning, so I used it to buy...” Twilight looked down at Triumphs and Tragedies.
“What. That book?”
Twilight nodded, but her eyes seemed glued to the cover now, a wistful expression a fixture of her features. Finally, she looked up. “We’ll be there, Rainbow Dash. We’ll make it work somehow. For Fluttershy.”
* * *
The year she spent at the Junior Speedsters, Dash would count as among the happiest times she’d had, growing up. And as she rapidly approached the end of the semester she couldn’t help but look back at just how awesome it had all been.
She’d made a lifelong friend in her room-mate and flight partner, Gilda; the instructors expected more but were actually pretty easy-going; and the lessons were more free-form, allowing her to do things her own way. Where Cloudsdale Curriculum had given her Tasks to carry out and Requirements to fulfill, the Junior Speedsters instead gave her Objectives to accomplish and Achievements to strive for. They encouraged her to perform, rather than beat her over the head with a stick, and perform she did! The exercises were challenging, but she achieved and excelled in every one of them, breaking more than one record along the way. And everything about it was so much more relaxed. It was, put simply, her kind of place.
The only problem was it was coming to an end. Gilda was heading back to her home after graduation, and so for Dash, whatever came next – and she didn’t know what that was for sure – she was going to have to start it by herself. On her own.
She... wasn’t really looking forward to it.
But she wasn’t thinking about it yet. Now, still with a week to graduation, she was being called into Dex’s office. She suspected she was in for a bit of a dressing down over what had happened the previous night, but she wasn’t worried. Being called to Dex’s office was a world away from going into the Viper’s nest.
Dexter Stable – though nopony ever referred to him as anything other than Dex – wasn’t the head of the camp, but for all practical purposes might as well have been. His official title was ‘Admissions Tutor,’ but that didn’t even scratch the surface. In his time at the Speedsters, he’d seemingly acquired every other student-facing role going: counsellor, careers advisor, activity-planner, confidant, student liaison to the rest of the staff, even a little instruction. He was basically a glue that held the school together, and if it didn’t involve specialist training, back office record keeping, or being moody and distant from the students like the actual headmaster, then Dex did it. Because he loved it. Because he understood that the students at the camp didn’t want to be treated like foals anymore. He’d relax with them and have an adult conversation about whatever was on their minds, and it didn’t matter how stupid it sounded. He walked a narrow path between professionalism and friendliness, but he did it very well, and it was common consensus among the camp – staff and students – that if you had a problem, Dex could fix it.
And now here she was outside Dex’s office, a couple of butterflies maybe, but nothing else. Dex was cool. This’d be fine.
She knocked.
“Come in!” replied a cheery, upbeat voice.
Rainbow pushed the door open and sauntered into the office with a smile. If Viper’s office was stark and sterile, this place was alive with colour and character. Along one wall hung probably two dozen framed portrait photos of past students, across which had been scrawled signatures and messages of goodbye made out to him. In a corner, propped on a stand, was a trombone which he still insisted he was learning to play – though he’d been learning for an age it seemed and never gotten past the basics. His desk was festooned with colourful paperweights, office-toys, and pictures of a wife and two foals. Every other square inch of its surface though was covered with a mishmash of paperwork which never seemed to increase or decrease – which was hardly surprising since he rarely spent much time at it.
He was behind it at the moment, though. A chestnut pegasus with a black mane and brown eyes, and with a cutie mark represented by three gold, five-pointed stars arranged in a triangle. He was a little thicker-set than most stallions, but presented the appearance of being burly rather than muscular.
“Rainbow Dash, come in! Have a seat,” he said with a grin, motioning towards the seat in front of his desk. Except where most offices would have gone for a chair or a floor-cushion, Dex instead went with a large blue cloth bean-bag. Dash ambled over and sat, relaxing into the ridiculously comfortable furniture. “You know why you’re here?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
Rainbow’s back straightened and she sat upright – which wasn’t easy, given the beanbag was trying its best to absorb her. “Look, I can explain. I have almost no idea where those fireworks came from! And... they weren’t really all supposed to go off at once.”
Dex’s other eyebrow raised a little. He looked down at the desk in front of him – though his chances of finding anything remotely useful in the huge mess of paperwork must have been zilch – and then looked back up. He smiled and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I suppose we could do that first,” he said. He cleared his throat and tried to make himself sound sternly professional. He was awful at it. “Ahem. So, Rainbow Dash. The illicit, unauthorised fireworks display-slash-aerobatics demonstration that you and Gilda pulled over the campus last night was...?”
“Uh... a total accident?”
“A loud, colourful, extremely well choreographed accident that happened to showcase just about every advanced aerial maneuver with textbook precision?”
“Uh... yes?”
Dex couldn’t stop a chuckle from escaping. Suddenly, sternly professional wasn’t on the menu anymore. “The fireworks woke the headmaster up, you know? And when he realised you’d enticed almost the entire student body out past curfew, he really wasn’t happy. Me? I think he’s just bitter he didn’t get an invite. He’s insisted I take you to task, but unfortunately for him, I loved it, and so did every single student I've spoken to today.” Dex grinned. “So, if you’re asked, you and I had a long, grueling talk about it, you saw the error of your ways and promised never to do it again, and I gave you some sort of hideous paperwork to fill out as punishment. Just... no more illegal aerial displays before graduation. Deal?”
Dash grinned back. “Deal.” Dex was awesome.
She relaxed, falling back once more into the beanbag as Dex spoke again. “Now that that’s out of the way we can get back to business. You're actually here because I wanted to see you in my role as careers advisor. I make a point of grabbing all the students in here just before graduation, to try and get them on the right track for after they leave, ask them if they know what they want to do and how to get there and so on. Though for you... I imagine that’s not much of an issue...?” He paused, looking expectantly at her, but she was grinning smugly now and waiting for him to commit to the question before she pounced. “So, Rainbow Dash... do you know what you want to do after you le–?”
“Wonderbolt,” she said confidently, grinning like a cat with a bowl full of cream.
Dex chuckled. “Yes, I thought so. It’s not exactly a secret, is it?”
Dex looked down at the desk, shuffled some papers around and, astonishingly, seemed to find one that he was looking for. He sighed and looked back up at Rainbow Dash, meeting her gaze. There was still a smile there, though it was reduced in size somewhat. “Rainbow Dash, one of the more difficult parts of this job for me comes when I have to encourage students to be... realistic about their expectations. Often times it feels like I’m disappointing them. Sometimes I get to surprise them. But with you... it really is a double-edged sword.” His gaze turned to the paper. “It starts with bad news. Because if you believed you were going to apply straight from here into the Wonderbolt Academy, and get on the fast-track to a blue flight-suit... well, it isn’t going to happen. The Wonderbolts won’t take you.”
Dash’s jaw dropped, her face horrified. “What? Why not?! I’m the best–!”
“Whoa, whoa,” said Dex, holding his forehooves up defensively. “Calm down and hear me out, because there’s good news too.” He waited for her jaw to slowly climb back off the floor before continuing. “Firstly – and I know they don’t exactly put this on the brochure, but trust me, it’s true – you’re still at least a year too young for their Academy. The Wonderbolts don’t accept any applicants fresh out of school, and there are a couple of reasons for that.
“You have to understand that the Wonderbolts want three basic things, Rainbow. Capability, Responsibility, and Reliability. They’re the best flight team in the world, and the emphasis there is on ‘team.’ They don’t have the time to waste training somepony it then turns out they can’t work with. They need to know that every candidate they accept is a team player, who can be counted on no matter what. Now, I’m lucky because I know you and I know that’s you to a tee. But even though I flatter myself that I wield some influence in these circles, they won’t just take my word for it. They need to see proof of it firsthoof. And when they’re trying to find it in somepony, there are a few things they look for that, again, they don’t exactly tell you about.
“First off they’ll look at your academic record here.” Dex smiled a conspiratorial smile. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but when you graduate next Monday, you’re going to be getting the highest grade this school can award. Only four other students in history have achieved it, so try and look surprised.” He winked. “Two of those students did go on to become Wonderbolts. The other two found their calling elsewhere as it happens. So, yes, they’ll be able to see you’re technically capable from the qualification you get here... but what they really want to see is you showing your stuff out there. With style and flair, making a name for yourself. Entering races, tournaments and competitions – remember the Best Young Fliers contest we took you all on that field trip to see? That’s a perfect example. You need to let them see you do your stuff, but don’t forget those other qualities. Being responsible and dependable are just as important, but you can’t really demonstrate those effectively in a structured environment like a school, which is why they don’t accept applicants straight out of education. They need to see them in the real world first.”
Dex propped his elbows on the desk and tented his hooves, meeting her gaze. “Rainbow Dash, you have a huge talent and the right attitude. Since you’ve been here you’ve performed flawlessly, and broken five or six of the camp records along the way. Heh, actually, I owe somepony a beer, thanks to that...”
“A what? Beer?”
“Hmm? It’s a drink. Like cider, except made with hops and wheat instead of fermented apples.”
Dash made a surprised, disgusted face. “Fermented apples? You mean like... rotting? Eugh! Who’d wanna drink rotten apples?”
“Well, it’s all an acquired taste I suppose. The point is: you are good enough to be a Wonderbolt, Rainbow, and I truly believe one day, if you want it, you’ll get there. But before they’ll take you, you need a proven track record that you can be everything they want, and as I say, an excellent flying ability is important, but only one third of the equation. So in the meantime you’ll need a good job that can inspire confidence, allow you to continue to hone your skill, but still give you the potential to let you catch their eye.”
“All right, Dex, now we’re talking!” said Dash, encouraged.
“Have you thought about weather-work?”
Dash’s face fell completely flat. After a moment she raised a forehoof to her ear, rubbing it hard. “Uh, Dex? I think you’re pronouncing it wrong. It’s supposed to sound like this: ‘Dare... Dev-il.’”
Dex laughed. “Yes, as intriguing and no-doubt-profitable a career choice as ‘Daredevil’ is, it’s not exactly ‘responsible’, or ‘dependable,’ is it?”
“But come on, how is pushing clouds around all day going to impress the Wonderbolts?!” complained Dash.
Dex leaned back in his chair with a smile. “Rainbow Dash, I’ve been doing this for a good while now, and I need you to trust me a little bit. Weather work might sound menial, but if you think about it for a moment, it actually has a lot going for it for someone like you. For a start, it’s almost entirely sky-time. Think about how many other careers you actually get that with, and then consider that every day you’re working you’ll be practicing as well, keeping your skills sharp. Plus, managing the weather for an entire population is a fantastic way to demonstrate responsibility and inspire trust. You’re also demonstrating effective teamwork with the other weather-ponies and, if you can keep on top of it, it will give you enough free time to pursue contests or competitions as you like. And lastly... and again, I’ll have to ask you to trust me on this, but it’s true...” he met her gaze more seriously. “It’s not quite as easy as it looks, managing the weather for a whole settlement. It takes a fair bit of skill. And when a town’s weather goes exactly to schedule, every time, every day, week in week out? Believe me, that’s the sort of thing that gets noticed up in Cloudsdale. You remember how I said there are things they look for that they don’t exactly tell you about? Weather-work demonstrates almost all of them to a tee. Don’t believe me? Ask me what those two students who went on to become Wonderbolts did for the first year after they left here,” he said with a grin. “Winning a race or a contest can show them you can be a great flier. But this sort of thing – doing a job excellently, reliably and with discipline – that’s what shows them you can be a part of their team.”
Dash breathed out a long breath. A weather-pony? Not what she was expecting to be sure. But... it did make sense... sort of. And it wouldn’t be for long. Just until she built up enough cred that they’d take her in. “Okay,” she said under her breath.
“Of course, if you’re not convinced, I’m sure I have a ‘Dare-Devil’ application form around here somewhere,” joked Dex, shuffling some random papers on his desk as though searching. Then he looked up. “But I do genuinely think this is the best way forward for you.” He pushed the sheet of paper he had retrieved earlier across the desk towards Rainbow Dash. She had to struggle up back to her hooves from the bean-bag to read it. It just looked like a list of half a dozen place-names.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a list of every town in Equestria that currently needs a weather-pony. Say the word, and with a little gentle cajoling from me, I can have you starting in any of them by the middle of next week.”
Dash scanned the list, but the one city she was hoping to see was conspicuous by its absence. She looked up. “Where’s Cloudsdale?”
Dex’s smile turned sympathetic. “I’m sorry, Rainbow, but Cloudsdale is over-subscribed for weather-workers as it is. But I actually think that’s not a bad thing for you. You need to get out there, make a name for yourself. Go to somewhere like Manehatten. It’s a high-profile patch with a lot of weather to manage, but you’d do very well there if you can stick it out. Or Trottingham – historic, famous. Not quite as large perhaps, but you’d have more scope to make your own mark. Show ‘em what you can do.”
Dash tried not to make her face look like she’d just drunk an entire pitcher of rotten apples. Leave Cloudsdale? Leave everything she’d ever known behind and go someplace completely new? Where she’d have no friends and no family. A complete fresh start in a big, strange town, far away.
By herself.
It was too fast. It was too much to think about, especially as she’d avoided thinking about it for too long already. Suddenly graduation was a precipice she was hurtling towards, and by this time next week she’d be flung out over the chasm, alone, with no safety net to catch her. She would either fly or she would fall. And boy, did that drop look sickening all of a sudden.
But... she tried hard to steel herself. If being a weather-pony could eventually get her into the Wonderbolts then she had to give it a shot. She took a not-nervous-at-all breath, returned her gaze to the paper, and tried to decide just which unfamiliar place she...
Hey... was that–?
“Ponyville?” She looked up at Dex, who raised his eyebrows in surprise. He too looked down at the paper in front of Dash.
“It’s a quiet, rural village. Their weather-patrol is fairly meager – almost entirely part-time and volunteers. They only have one full-time weather-pony, and he’s just retired. They’ve hardly had any applicants for the vacancy.” He looked up at Rainbow again. “It’s not exactly a... prestigious posting.”
“But still good, right? For the Wonderbolts? All that reliable, dependable stuff?”
“Yes... but for someone of your ability, you'd likely find it–”
“Ponyville, Dex,” said Dash, sporting a cocky grin and a firm stare. “Sign me up.”
Dex’s eyebrows climbed even higher for a moment. Then gradually his expression returned to normal. “Okay, Rainbow. If you’re sure that’s what you want, I’ll make it happen.”
“I’m sure.”
The knock on the door was so unexpected and so fleeting that Fluttershy wasn’t even sure she’d heard it the first time. Then it repeated itself and her surprise turned to confusion. “Who could that be?” She didn’t have visitors except for the mail-pony, and he’d already been today.
Heading over to the door and opening it, confusion turned right back to surprise and her face just lit up.
“Uh... hey Fluttershy. You might not remember me, but we were at–”
“Rainbow Dash!” she cried. Her smile spread from ear-to-ear. “What are you doing here?”
Dash’s face, initially slightly hesitant when the door had opened, immediately coalesced into a picture of confidence, complete with smirk. “Me? Just getting my bearings as Ponyville’s new weather-pony is all!”
“You’ve moved to Ponyville?” Fluttershy couldn’t believe it. She felt giddy. What were the odds that the only friend she’d ever made would happen to move here?
“Uh... yeah... about that,” said Dash a little sheepishly. “I... don’t exactly have the bits for a hotel right now, and I don’t know anywhere else in town. I know this is super-uncool, but... would it be okay if maybe I crashed with you for a little bit?”
Fluttershy gasped. Then smiled. Then squee’d. With the speed of a striking serpent she reached out with her forelegs and wrapped them around the hovering Rainbow Dash in a tight bear-hug, pulling her quickly into the cottage, closing the door, and leaving the surrounding countryside peaceful and ponyless once again.
With all of her friends on-board and the plan coming together beautifully, Rainbow Dash had one more stop to make before she acquired Fluttershy. Flying back over Ponyville, she headed in the direction of her cloud-house set on obtaining the last piece of the puzzle.
Twilight had been right. When you won something, you always got something. A prize, a trophy, some memento of your achievement. And while Rainbow was pretty sure that getting a trophy wasn’t the reason you wanted to win, receiving one was undeniably cool. And if Fluttershy was going to win, she wanted her to have the whole winning experience. Luckily, Dash had over a dozen trophies to her name. One of them would do.
The sun’s heat was finally relenting as it slowly began to lower, afternoon turning to evening. The blue sky faded to gold and a slight breeze had at last picked up, coming in off the Everfree. It was refreshing after the perfectly still, hot day and it tickled Dash’s feathers in just the right way as she soared towards home, the clouds of her house lined in silver as their edges caught and reflected the light, and the rainbows more vivid than she could remember seeing them in a long time.
She landed and went inside, finding her own trophy cabinet and her saddlebag. She opened the cabinet and picked out a fairly nondescript trophy – a golden pony rearing on its hindlegs with flared wings – and with the aid of a butterknife from the kitchen, managed to lever the plaque bearing her name away from the base. It came off with a plink, leaving only minimal cosmetic damage. There. One trophy in the bag, she thought, putting the trophy in the bag.
Just as she was about to leave through the window, there was a knock at the door. Dash frowned. Whoever it was, this had better be important. She was busy!
But when she opened the door, she found Fluttershy on her doorstep.
Oh, wow. Everything was just coming together!
“Rainbow Dash, I’m glad I finally found you. I just wanted to say I’m sorry for earlier. I–”
“Yeah, okay, cool,” Dash broke in absently. “Look I need your...” She paused. And looked at Fluttershy. “Wait. You’re sorry? For what?”
“Well... I’m not sure exactly. But whatever I said, it seemed to make you mad. So... for that, I guess. I hope you’re not still angry at me.”
Dash blinked. Then shook it off. “Okay, never mind that. Bygones be bygones and all. Look, I need your help. I need you to run with me in a seven-legged race over at Sweet Apple Acres against our friends!” Dash realised that she was grinning a wide grin that she really shouldn’t have been. But... she was excited. The plan was so awesome!
“Oh.” Fluttershy looked up at Rainbow Dash, her face coloured with suspicion. “Um... sorry for asking, but... why?”
Ah. Okay. She hadn’t actually thought that part through. How to convince Fluttershy to run the race. She scrambled blindly, thinking-time a luxury she did not possess.
“Uh... because Applejack and I were talking earlier...”
Good, true...
“...and we started arguing about racing...”
Not quite as true...
“...and she said she could totally beat me in a seven-legged race...”
Okay, now we’re lying quite a bit...
“...she said I could pick anypony in town to partner and she’d still beat me...”
I’m so going to Tartarus for this...
“So I picked you. Because there’s nopony else I’d rather race with.”
...wow...true! Hey, who’d have thought?
Fluttershy still looked various shades of nervous, unconvinced and suspicious by turns. “Are you sure you want... me?” she asked. “I mean, I’d like to help, but you know I’m not a racer. Wouldn’t you be better off running with somepony else? Somepony... fast? I won’t be disappointed if you pick somepony else. I just wouldn’t want to let you down.”
“No, Fluttershy,” said Dash firmly. “I want you, okay?”
Fluttershy flinched a little. A moment passed before she took a deep breath. “Alright Rainbow Dash. If that is what you really want, then of course I’ll help you. And I promise I'll do my best.”
Awesome! “Awesome! But you’re right, we need to be fast, and we don’t wanna let ourselves down, so we’ve gotta get some training in!”
“O...kay...” said Fluttershy. She never lost that vague look of suspicion. “When is this race?”
“In a couple of hours. So we gotta start practising right now!”
Suspicion was replaced by shock as Fluttershy was taken aback. “Today? I mean, you really think we can practice enough to win a race in only a couple of hours?”
“I know we can! It’s not gonna be easy, and we’re gonna have to take a shortcut that I'm really not a huge fan of, but we can do it!”
“A shortcut?” asked Fluttershy, dubiously. “What... kind of shortcut?”
Dash made a face. “We’re gonna have to use a training montage.” She stuck her tongue out. Yuck.
“Oh,” said Fluttershy, brightening and an innocent smile appearing. “I’ve done one of those before. They’re really not so bad. In fact, I think I still have the music. Can we do it to music?”
Dash rolled her eyes. “Sure, whatever. The point is, in two hours, we’re gonna be racing to victory, so: let’s get started!”
* * *
The door to the cottage was hurled open with a crash, causing all of the birds, squirrels, chipmunks and mice to scurry for shelter into their respective birdhouses and cubby-holes. Rainbow Dash entered with a low scowl and a clenched jaw, her furious arrival accompanied by the thudding of heavy, forced hoof-falls on the wooden floor as she tramped inside. With a solid kick from her hindleg she closed the door with a slam and trudged across the room to sit by the window overlooking the rear garden. She didn’t peer out though, her befrowned gaze instead finding a neutral point somewhere in the air between her and the wall beneath the windowsill.
“Rainbow Dash? Is something wrong?”
“Oh, no, nothing,” seethed Dash. “Just having the worst day of my life is all!”
“What happened?” asked Fluttershy, leaving the table and walking over to her friend. “I thought you were supposed to start work today?”
“I am! Or at least I was!” Dash yelled. She looked up in anger at Fluttershy but Fluttershy’s face bore no hint of understanding. Some explanation was going to have to be provided.
Rainbow Dash let out a long sigh, her gaze finding the same neutral point. “So I went to the town hall like I was supposed to. Big meet-and-greet with the mayor and some of the locals in town for the first day, right? Introduce the new weather-pony, Q-and-A, tea and cakes, all that nice easy stuff.” She snorted. “It was going great. I was wowing them with my awesomeness, telling them all sorts of stuff about me, eating cake – totally making friends and influencing ponies. And then...” She groaned, and her frown deepened. “This really obnoxious pony starts asking me questions. All innocent at first, like, ‘How much rain are we gettin’ next munth?’ I don’t know that. It’s my first day! I haven’t seen the forecast yet! Luckily, I was totally cool with it. I told her she wouldn’t have to worry about rain while I was around. Sunny skies from here on out!”
Dash’s frown deepened. “Boy was that ever the wrong answer. Because then she starts grilling me on the weather for the next forever! How much rainfall? How much sun? How windy? The cloud-cover, if it’s gonna frost, if it’s gonna hail... eventually I just up and told her to chillax alright? I’d handle the weather and she should get on and handle whatever she does. But that just seemed to make her mad and she didn’t stop there, oh no. No, then she asked if I could handle the weather! Wanted to know how much experience I had! Where I’d done weather-work before, the sorts of things I had to do there... it just went on! And when she found out that I’ve kind of just graduated, and never done real weather-working before, she starts yelling at me! Said she couldn’t believe that Cloudsdale had sent an inexperienced total amateur here! So I started yelling back about how she obviously didn’t know the first thing about weather!”
Dash’s frown finally relented and she let out a calming sigh. She closed her eyes. “It got real awkward for about five minutes and then I just left. But... she got to me, okay? I couldn’t stop thinking what if she was right? I mean, I can do weather. But what if there’s a whole bunch more to this that I’m not seeing? What if what this town needs is a professional? They only have one full-time weather-pony and, hey, here I am! Fresh out of school and no clue what I’m really doing! This whole town’s supposed to count on me and now... I just feel like it doesn’t want me around, y’know? Thanks to some horrible, freckley, drawly hat-pony.”
Fluttershy couldn’t help but be a little surprised. “Applejack?”
Dash looked up, also surprised, and with a faint look of betrayal to her. “You know her?”
“Well, not really,” Fluttershy admitted, “But I see her in town sometimes. She’s always seemed so nice and friendly.”
“Yeah, well, take it from me – she’s not,” grumped Dash, her scowl reappearing. “I really hope I never have to see her again.”
Fluttershy looked down at her friend. She’d never seen her so upset, so... frazzled. She was sure she’d be okay. She just needed to calm down a bit, maybe with a little honeyed tea. Tomorrow, when she really started work, things would be better.
But before she could say this out loud and begin to sooth Rainbow Dash’s anger away, there was a knock at the door. Since Rainbow made no move to answer it, sulking as she was by the window, Fluttershy crossed the room and opened the door to the caller.
Oh.
Fluttershy stepped out of the house, pulling the door mostly-closed behind her. “Applejack?”
“Howdy,” said the farmpony, touching the brim of her hat a little sheepishly. “It’s Fluttershy, ain’t it? I’m real sorry I ain’t been as neighbourly as I should’a been since you moved in, but we’ve kinda had a lot on our plates. Or actually, we haven’t.” She smiled a guilty half-smile.
“Can I help with something?” asked Fluttershy.
Applejack sighed. “I hope so. There’s a new weather-pony in town called Rainbow Dash? I’m fixin’ to find her.”
“Oh,” said Fluttershy. “Is that so you can yell at her again?” She’d meant it to sound defensive and a little spiky, but her innate demureness and aversion to confrontation caused her voice to phrase it in the style of a genuine question, and Applejack seemed to take it as such, looking briefly at the ground.
“You heard about that, huh?” She drew herself up and continued. “I stick by what I said, but... I ain’t proud of the way I said it. I wanna try and make it right with her, but nopony knows where to find her. Not even Pinkie Pie. Then, I just spoke to one pegasus who said she thought you two knew each other. That you were friends at school?”
“Oh. Really? They... said we were friends at school?”
Applejack nodded. “Last thing she yelled at me right before she took off was: ‘Forget this,I’m going somewhere I feel appreciated!’” Applejack looked at her. “But she’s brand new in town, and nopony else I’ve spoken to knows where she might’ve meant. Was hoping you might have some idea?”
Fluttershy couldn’t stop a little blush from touching her cheeks. She’d come straight here, after all. Where she felt appreciated? “Um... could you excuse me for just a moment?” Leaving Applejack, Fluttershy backed through the door, pushing it open with her rump and then closing it in front of her, standing within the cottage once more. She turned for the far side of the room and approached Rainbow Dash. “Rainbow Dash? Applejack is at the door.”
Dash’s frown seemed to be a permanent fixture at the moment. “That’s nice,” she said, expressing sarcasm without subtlety.
“She’s asked to speak to you.”
“Tell her to get lost.”
“Now now, Rainbow,” Fluttershy admonished, “It’s only polite to see what she wants.”
Rainbow gave her an evil glare for a second. Then, standing, she turned for the door, reached it and pulled it open, revealing Applejack still standing outside with a beautiful expression of sudden-surprise. And as soon as Applejack recovered and looked as though she were about to speak, Rainbow slammed it shut with a loud, satisfying crash, right in her face. Then she turned away and headed back for the window, sitting and adopting her sulking pose once more.
Fluttershy was stunned. Flitting quickly to the door and opening it a crack she beseeched her guest. “Could you give us just one more minute?” Then she closed the door and rounded on Rainbow Dash, striding over to her, head high.
“Rainbow Dash! How could you? You didn’t even let her speak!”
“Why bother? She was probably about to start yelling at me again.”
Fluttershy frowned, incensed now. “Rainbow Dash! Visitors may not come here very often, but when they do, I do not want them treated like that by a guest in my house! Applejack has come here to try and make amends with you after this morning. It’s taken her a lot of courage to do that, and it’s more than you’re showing right now, moping on the floor there! So I think the least you can do is hear what she has to say!”
Rainbow Dash had looked up, transfixed once Fluttershy had begun her tirade. Her mind almost blanked. Fluttershy had got mad! She didn’t think that was possible! And she really didn’t want to see it again.
Laboriously, Dash stood and made her way once more to the door. She opened it more slowly this time, revealing Applejack still stood outside. Applejack hesitated visibly, uncertain whether to start speaking or whether that would just be a prelude to another door-slam. Rainbow Dash broke the silence.
“Yeah?” she said coolly.
Applejack sighed and deflated. The look of a pony who knew she’d failed before she’d started, but who still had to go through the motions, however futile.
With difficulty she forced herself to meet Rainbow Dash’s gaze. “Rainbow Dash? I’d like to apologise for what happened at town hall this morning,” she said. She hesitated, took a breath, half-started the next word, caught herself, and paused. Then she tried again, but couldn’t begin whatever sentence might have been there. Finally, solemnly, she reached up, removed her hat from her head, and held it against her chest with a foreleg. She took a deep, sincere breath.
“It’s... been difficult for us these past couple o’ years. Sweet Apple Acres ain’t just an apple orchard y’know, it’s a whole farm. We supply nearly two-thirds of all Ponyville’s food, and the town needs us to provide for ‘em over winter. But... the harvests have been real lean, last few seasons. Most folks don’t know how bad it is, yet... but they will soon if things don’t change.
“Ol’ Weathertop was a fine weather-pony in his day. But... he just ran on too long. Everypony knew, but nopony said anything. Pushing those clouds around just started gettin’ too much for his bones. One month we only got half the rain we were expecting. Next month it was even less. It’s been like that for a while now. The fields’re dryin’ up. The dirt’s turning to dust. We’re havin’ to work the land twice as hard and we’re gettin’ half the crops we need. And... and it’s only the two of us these days.”
She sighed, her head dipping, and when she looked back up, for an instant, her eyes held a look of unguarded desperation. “We’re tryin’ our best, we really are, my brother and me. But we’ve got a little sister and a granny to take care of, a business to keep afloat that we depend on, and a whole town out there that’s either gonna starve or bankrupt itself buying food in from someplace else if we can’t provide enough for ‘em. And we’re trying to muddle out just how we’re supposed to do all this by ourselves now. We’re blindly guessin’ at decisions we can’t afford to and grafting them out when they turn bad because we don’t know what else to do. And we know that if we fail, we're gonna have to watch folks go hungry, startin’ with our own kin. We’re barely sleepin’, and we're workin’ ourselves ragged to make sure that don’t happen but we just can’t keep up no more, and it’s only gettin’ worse. And if the weather don’t improve, then in a year or two the soil’s gonna die and nothin’ll grow at all. I don’t know what’s gonna happen then.”
She looked away for a moment, took a breath, then turned back. “Everypony that comes to Ponyville to work the weather, part-time or over winter or whatever says the same thing. They thought it’d be easy.” Applejack shook her head. “And by the time they leave they all agree: it ain’t. We get stray winds and random cloud banks blowin’ off the Everfree every day. Sometimes it even throws a big ol’ storm our way, just for fun. And then there’s Canterlot up on the mountain there. Some days they use magic to change their weather, and when they do I swear it futzes up the air down here in the valley somehow.” She shook her head again. “I can’t cotton to that. Magic’s all fine and dandy, but usin’ it on the weather? I’d rather have a weather-pony I can trust any day of the week. But as good as he was, by the end, Weathertop just weren’t up to it. We’ve been at the mercy of the weather more’n we’ve been in charge of it for a while now, and... and it shouldn’t be this difficult! We need enough rain and enough sunshine in the right amounts, and if we can just get that then... everything’d be a heap easier, y’know?
“So, yeah. When I heard we were gettin’ a new, hotshot weather pegasus straight from Cloudsdale, maybe I got a little excited. And when you showed up and started talking about everything that wasn’t the weather, maybe I got a little frustrated. And when you said you hadn’t done it before and acted like the weather wasn’t a big deal, maybe I got a little angry. But that don’t mean I was right to turn on ya like I did. I’m sorry, and I hope you’ll accept my apology. I just...” Applejack met Dash’s gaze with clear sincerity. “We really need some good growin’ weather, Rainbow Dash. Otherwise... I don’t know what’s gonna happen. To us, or to Ponyville.” She replaced her hat on her head.
Dash simply stood there like a statue. Her frown had slowly seeped away leaving surprise and shock; a gormless stare and a mouth that was half open.
“Rainbow Dash?” said Fluttershy, stood at her side now. “Don’t you have something to say to Applejack?”
Dash stood rooted to the spot for a moment, unable to move or change her expression, but managing to get the mouth-portion of her otherwise paralyzed face to function.
“I’m really sorry I slammed the door in your face,” she blurted quietly.
A quiet, tense moment passed. Until Applejack let out a little mirthful chuckle and touched the brim of her hat once more. “Sorry we got off on the wrong hoof. Here’s hoping we can work together from now on. Fluttershy? It’s a pleasure to finally make yer acquaintance, but I didn’t mean to be bringin’ all my doom-and-gloom to ya here, so reckon I should leave ya be for now.” She began to turn for the path leading away from the cottage.
Which finally seemed to shock Dash from her catatonic state. “Wait! Look, uh, Applejack, right? It’s gonna rain tomorrow.”
Applejack blinked. “Huh? The forecast says we ain’t due for rain until–”
“Nah nah nah nah, don’t pay any attention to what the forecast says, listen to what I’m saying,” said Dash. “And I’m saying, that if you need it to rain tomorrow, then it’s totally gonna rain tomorrow.” She smiled. “I’ll get you awesome growing weather, just... tell me what you need.”
Applejack smiled back, thoroughly disarmed. “Hey, uh... how’d you two like to come over for supper? Things ain’t so bad that Granny Smith can’t whip up a little more of her famous Spicy Sweet Potato and Vegetable Stew. Family’d love to meet ya, ‘specially since we’re neighbours an’ all. There’s even a little cider left in the pantry that I’ve been saving for a special occasion, and I reckon toasting a new weather-pony might just be it.”
“Oh, that’s very nice of you,” said Fluttershy. “I’d hate to refuse such a kind invitation...” She looked over at Rainbow Dash, waiting for her reaction before committing.
“Cider?” said Dash, wrinkling her nose, but beginning to follow Applejack from the cottage anyway. “That’s the rotten-apple drink, right?”
Applejack looked back in surprise as Dash joined her at her side. Then she barked a laugh. “Oh boy, you are in for a real treat.”
Dash felt her stride automatically fall into a lazy saunter, and the corner of her mouth quirk into an involuntary, tiny smile. “I’m just saying that since I’m totally gonna be saving your beans and saving your beans, you might wanna break out the fresh stuff. Y’know. Motivate me by showing me what I’d be missing if I didn’t use all my awesome weather-skills.”
“You ever eaten food before?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s what you’d be missin’.”
“Meh, it was overrated.”
“You’ll change your mind once you try the stew,” said Applejack, a little smile finding her own lips.
“Leftover stew and rotten-apple-water? Okay, maybe tomorrow after I’m done whipping up the best weather you’ve ever seen, you and me should go get oatburgers or something. You know, real food?”
They turned to look at each other, finding themselves side-by-side and somehow both naturally adopting the same, easy stance and identical, playful smirks. Applejack’s smile widened and she faced forward once more, falling back into her casual stroll.
“Rainbow Dash? I reckon this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
* * *
The montage had been a complete success. A series of short exercises ranging from weight-training to jogging to hoof-eye coordination, presented as a series of mini-vignettes ordered to show clear progression in each activity and set to Fluttershy’s surprisingly inspirational psuedo-rock track.
It had undoubtedly had a measurable effect on their performance. Perhaps not exponential, but certainly a marked improvement. Their rhythm was good, their pace was fast: they had accomplished in two hours what Dash guessed would normally have taken two days to achieve. And since their opponents would likely have done no training whatsoever, Rainbow’s confidence was high as she led Fluttershy towards Sweet Apple Acres, the sky a burnt orange as the sun grew close to the horizon.
In the centre of a field east of the farmhouse, Applejack had stuck two long poles vertically into the ground about ten feet apart and between them, strung a taut length of red ribbon. As Applejack caught sight of them, she beckoned them over with a smile and a cheery wave. Rainbow Dash was about to wave back, but Fluttershy surprised her by overtaking her and trotting towards Applejack. Dash followed but hung back just a little.
“Applejack?” said Fluttershy. “I’m really sorry to hear that you and Rainbow Dash were fighting today.”
Uh oh.
Applejack looked appropriately confused. “We were?” She glanced over Fluttershy’s shoulder at Rainbow Dash behind.
Dash frantically nodded, mouthing, Yes, urgently. Come on, Applejack! Yes!
“Uh... I mean, we were,” said Applejack, unconvincingly.
“But do you really think that the best way to settle your differences is to make your best friends race against each other like this?” continued Fluttershy.
“Um...”
Yes! Yes!
“I guess, yes I do. Because that’s the kind of pony I am, it seems.”
“Can’t you find some other way to make up and forget about this?”
No! No! Head-shake!
“Uh... nope. Because this is definitely the only way we’re gonna settle that argument we had. Right Rainbow Dash?”
“Right!” responded Dash, a little too quickly.
“Oh, okay,” said Fluttershy. “I thought so.” She wandered away a few steps, as if to inspect the tape strung between the poles. With her back turned, Applejack and Rainbow Dash exchanged looks.
When this is over, Rainbow Dash, we’re havin’ words.
Hey, the race was your idea, Applejack!
Their silent communication was interrupted by the arrival of their other friends in quick succession.
Rarity was first on the scene, looking exactly as Dash had seen her earlier, complete with levitated glass of cool lemonade and huge paper-fan. She had done nothing except bring herself to the party, it seemed, but she greeted them warmly all the same. A few moments later, Twilight arrived carrying Spike on her back. He was grasping a blue hardback book and reading it intently while Twilight mumbled numbers and phrases like, ‘rectilinear,’ ‘delta-V,’ and ‘distance over time,’ to herself. It all sounded like one huge maths thing. When they finally realised that they were within earshot, Spike closed the book and Twilight greeted them, both wearing guilty grins.
And then there was Pinkie Pie.
She came bouncing and bounding across the field, her springy gait carrying her almost twice as high as usual. Her eyes were pin-pricks, her mane and tail were frazzled and wiry as though she had been electrocuted, and she was wrapped from neck-to-tail in coils of soft, thick red cord which encircled her waist, barrel and all four individual legs.
She drew to a stop. Which is to say she stopped her forward momentum. Her up-and-down bouncing continued, making everypony else a little seasick as they tried to follow her.
“HiguyssorryI’mlatebutI’mherenowtotallyreadytoruntherace!” said Pinkie.
“Pinkie Pie, whatever happened to you?” asked Rarity.
“And why’re you all wrapped up in... whatever that is?” asked Applejack.
“It’s-red-rope-liquorice!” blurted Pinkie. “I’ve-been-eating-it-non-stop-ever-since-Rainbow-Dash-came-by-earlier-but-don’t-worry-I-brought-enough-for-everypony!” She finally stopped bouncing and, with remarkable dexterity for somepony in the throes of a sugar-rush, began to shuffle all of the liquorice off herself, leaving it in a single, large, neat coil on the ground. One end trailed from the coil to her mouth, and she sucked on it hard as though it were an impossibly long strand of spaghetti, pausing every so often to chew frantically. Her eyes darted this way and that, and never blinked.
“...alright then,” said Applejack with great hesitancy. She turned to address all of her friends as one. “I reckon ya’ll know why you’re here. This here’s your basic seven-legged race. Team Earth-Pony against Team Pegasus against Team Unicorn – uh, you don’t mind bein’ a unicorn again for this one, do ya Twi’?”
“Of course not,” smiled Twilight.
“Okay then. It’s a there-and-back race from the start-line here, around that tree over yonder–” she pointed out a tall, thick-trunked apple-tree about a hundred meters distant, “–and back here to finish. First pair of ponies to break the tape wins. Spike? You start us off, and decide on the winner if it’s close. Everypony get it?”
A series of nods from the gathered ponies. A rapid, furious succession of head-bobs from Pinkie Pie.
“Alright. There’s three coils of rope over at the start line. Everypony tie themselves together and once we’re all set, we’ll get this show on the road.”
Rarity wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, I absolutely refuse to race with some horrid, itchy and scratchy rope tied around my hoof. Come, Twilight darling, I have brought just the thing! We will be racing in style,” she said, using her magic to produce a pair of powder-blue silk-scarves, soft and supple. Twilight’s eyes lit up when she saw them and they took themselves to one side to complete their bindings.
Rainbow Dash and Applejack rolled their eyes as one. Applejack looked at her own partner. “Okay Pinkie, let’s get... huh?!”
“I tied us together when you weren’t looking!”
Applejack looked down, her left foreleg now inexplicably bound to Pinkie’s right by half-a-dozen coils of thick, red sugar. “Pinkie Pie... that ain’t rope, that’s candy!”
“It’s still rope, silly.”
“It’s liquorice!”
“It’s liquorice rope!” said Pinkie triumphantly.
Applejack rolled her eyes again. The heat of the day was waning but the evening was still warm, and the liquorice was already unpleasantly sticky against her coat. She groaned. “I hate liquorice.”
Dash walked the few steps over to the start / finish line, stooped and picked up one of the three coils of rope in her teeth. Fluttershy came over to join her.
“Don’t worry, Fluttershy. Just follow my lead and we’ll totally win this thing!”
“I know,” said Fluttershy.
That was strange. For an instant she’d almost looked disappointed. Then she looked up, smiled an odd, reserved smile, and offered her hoof. Sitting and bending her foreleg parallel to Fluttershy’s, Dash used the rope to tie their legs together neatly and securely. Then they stood and made their precarious way over to the start line to stand just in front of the red ribbon.
They stood side by side, two ponies as one, ready to take on all opponents for glory and... well, a cheap trophy.
But it wasn’t about glory. Nor the cheap trophy. This was about Fluttershy getting her win; about her finally feeling special like she deserved, and finally, it was going to happen. Here and now, in this least epic of races. Rainbow Dash raised her head, standing proud between the two other teams: Unicorns to the left of her, Earth-Ponies to the right and there they were, stuck in the middle, together.
All three teams prepared themselves as Spike approached one of the poles in the ground, checking to see that the contestants were all in line and that none of the teams had given themselves an unfair head-start. He gave a quick, satisfied nod and six ponies dropped into a ready stance, and waited for the off.
* * *
“Okay, uh... Cloud-nine, I guess,” said Rainbow Dash absently. She couldn’t really pay attention to the game, what with the horrible feeling in her gut. It was awful, knowing she was going to upset Fluttershy, but it had to be done. If she was honest with herself, this had been coming for a couple of weeks now.
“Well, you found my Cumulus, Rainbow Dash. And that’s my last cloud,” said Fluttershy, handing the token over to complete the formality.
Dash took the token and put it with the others in her little pile on the table, nudging a few of them around as though trying to make a pattern or something. She had to say it. Had to find the courage to say it, somehow. She couldn’t put it off any longer.
“Rainbow Dash? Is something wrong?”
Dash glanced up into Fluttershy’s concerned face, and immediately wished she hadn’t. It just made it harder. She tried to steel herself, ready to force the words out.
“Rainb–?”
“I’m moving out.” There, it was said. She forced herself to look up once more.
“Oh,” was all Fluttershy said. But she didn’t need to say anything else because it was all there, clear as day. The hurt, the sadness, the disappointment all written on her face as plainly as though they were words in a book. There were even the beginnings of tears, she was sure.
A long, uncomfortable moment passed.
“Is... is it because I–?”
“No!” interrupted Dash quickly. Then she sat back and breathed. “It’s not you Fluttershy, really. It’s... if I’m being honest, it’s all the critters in here.”
Fluttershy looked genuinely surprised, prompting Rainbow Dash to continue. “Don’t get me wrong, okay. I love cute, fuzzy little animals as much as the next pony. Just not... everywhere.” She sighed. “The animals down here, they scratch and chitter and flap and chirp and skitter... and it’s all the time! I mean, seriously: All. Night. Long. How do you sleep with all the racket?!” She tried to meet Fluttershy’s gaze but now it was Fluttershy who’d turned away. “I’m really sorry. Believe me, I’ve tried to live with it, but I just can’t do it anymore. It’s driving me nuts! And I’m not gonna ask you to choose between me or them, because that’s not fair. This is your dream, right?”
Fluttershy only gave the faintest of nods. “You’ve made your mind up, haven’t you?” she asked.
“Yeah,” whispered Dash.
“Where are you...?” Fluttershy trailed into silence, but she didn’t need to finish the question to get an answer.
“I’m just putting the finishing touches on a cloud-home just outside town. The mayor said it was cool. I’ve... been building it for about a week now,” she said guiltily. “I’m really sorry. I would have told you sooner but... it was hard, y’know? I didn’t want you to get upset.”
“Okay.” Fluttershy nodded again. She finally looked back up, meeting Rainbow’s gaze with a trepid, oddly worried expression. Then she looked down, beginning to clear away Rainbow Dash’s new game, closing the game boards and making sure they found their way safely back into the colourful, crisp box.
“Fluttershy, it’s not like we’re not gonna see each other. I’m not leaving town or anything, and we’re still totally best friends! I’m just gonna be living over that way a bit. It’s not even all that far.”
Fluttershy finished packing the game away. She pushed the game box slightly towards Rainbow Dash, looking up one final time, but this time with a faint but heartbreaking skepticism colouring her sadness.
It wasn’t that she was moving out, Dash realised. It was that Fluttershy thought she was losing a friend. ‘Out of sight, out of mind’ went the old adage, and Fluttershy believed it would prove true; that any promises Dash might make about visiting or still being friends, however well-intentioned, would last only so long until they inevitably faded. That there would be an occasion in the not too distant future when she would see Rainbow Dash, and without either of them realising, it would be for the last time. Her oldest, closest, and at one time only friend. And it didn’t matter what she said to her right now – no matter how hard she tried to reassure her, Fluttershy would always carry that doubt. That belief that Rainbow Dash wouldn’t be her friend forever after all. Because she had no reason to come back.
Well, there was no way that was going to happen.
With a hoof, Rainbow Dash pushed the game-box back towards her friend. “Fluttershy, could you do me a favour? Can you keep hold of this for a while?”
Fluttershy looked up, surprised. “You don’t want your game?”
“No, I do. I really do. But, y’know, I don’t have a lot of room to put things in my new place yet. If you could just find somewhere safe for it for a bit, I’d really appreciate it. I’ll probably be by to pick it up next Tuesday sometime. That okay?”
“Of course,” said Fluttershy, looking round before eyeing a cupboard next the the wall. But she had a little hopeful smile now. Maybe she suspected what Dash was doing. It didn’t matter.
Because when next Tuesday rolled around, and Rainbow Dash came to collect her game...
“Here you go, Rainbow Dash. I kept it safe, just like you wanted.”
“Awesome. Hey, wait... are you sure the pieces are all still inside?”
“I... think so.”
“Better check, right?” said Dash opening up her board and beginning to set it up. “Well come on, help me out here, Fluttershy!” she said with a smirk, shoving the other half of the game her way.
So they played. And when the game was over...
“Aw yeah! Good game, Fluttershy. Hey, uh...? Do you think maybe you could hang onto this thing for just a little longer? I’ll come by and pick it up next Tuesday if that’s cool...?”
And next Tuesday. And next Tuesday. And every Tuesday since.
My dear reader, it is with mixed feelings that I find myself addressing you now. The humble narrator, oft shrouded behind the curtain, rarely makes his voice heard, instead choosing to occlude oneself in service of more ably relating the tale. Indeed that is my sole function, and I beg that you divest yourself of any conceit that I am capable of manipulating the story. I am simply the purveyor of this anecdote; bound to recount the events as they in fact happened, and no more able to alter their outcome now, after the fact, than to move a mountain. And while the path that those events took seems obvious and inescapable to one blessed with foreknowledge such as I, I cannot help but worry that, to a fresh pair of eyes, your expectation of the climax of these escapades might be coloured somewhat by an irrational, yet entirely forgivable sense of optimism. In this I cannot hold myself entirely blameless, and so, in this rarest of instances, I feel compelled to interject here in order to offer a fair warning; a cautionary note, should your impulses compel you to follow these events through to their conclusion.
For if you have been following our well-meaning friends through their antics and mishaps to this point, and you have in your mind concluded that Rainbow Dash’s scheme is a good one, meticulously planned and thoroughly rehearsed with nothing left to chance; if you have closed your eyes to the patent absurdity of this whole affair and you enter into the final chapter of this tale anticipating that in short order Fluttershy will emerge deservedly victorious from this most tragic of contests, and be imbued with the warmth and good feeling that can only have been intended, then, dear reader, I fear the account which you will shortly read will not be the straightforward denouement that you might have been pardoned for expecting.
If, however, you have read the chronicle of their adventure thus far and instead formed the opinion that the present competition is little more than a poor contrivance; an ill-thought-through attempt at a result far easier achieved with honest words and kind deeds, the contradictory nature of the whole debacle surely doomed to collapse under the weight of its own impossibility, but for now desperately held together by nothing stronger than the spit that is the collective will and honourable intent of a group of selfless friends wanting only to do something nice... If you hold that happiness and gratitude are entirely implausible consequences and that this confounding mess is far more likely to tempt disappointment and woe... then your intuition serves you well indeed, and you are surely a credit to whatever genus you call home, be it equine, bovine, simian or other.
For gathered at the start-line, just in front of a band of red-ribbon strung between two poles in a field at Sweet Apple Acres, beneath what was about to be a glorious red, western sunset, stood five ponies and one dragon who, while having neither mischief nor explicit cheat as their goal, were all intent in their own individual ways that the sixth and final member of their group was going to win this race, and do so in a fair and impartial manner.
And if, dear reader, you perceive an incompatibility there; if you suppose that this notion stretches credibility to its breaking point, and could in real terms only prelude calamity, then once again you are well served by your instincts. And while I can offer you the crumb of comfort that at the end of it all, no permanent damage was suffered and the bonds between our friends remained likewise undiminished, this was all rather in spite of the fiasco about which you will soon read, rather than a consequence of it. It was supposed to be a race, and yet here I can re-arrange those letters, add one other, and adequately sum up that which it turned out to be: a farce.
And in the senses both figurative and literal, it began with a bang, and ended with a whimper.
“BANG!” cried Spike, in lieu of the starting pistol he did not possess. And they were off and running.
To Rainbow Dash’s mind the plan was perfect. All present actively wanted Fluttershy to win the race: herself and her friends wanted her to win to make her happy, and Fluttershy wanted to win because she thought Rainbow wanted to win, and wouldn’t want to let her down. There was just such a neatness to it. A complete unity of purpose. As far as Dash was concerned, she and her friends could do the impossible when they all worked towards the same goal. This should be a piece of cake, right? How could it not be?
Her training and preparation with Fluttershy was paying off immediately too, for they began the race at a quick clip. A brisk, rhythmic canter, well-paced, smooth and perfectly in sync.
And it was a huge surprise when they were left in the dust by both of the other teams.
Twilight’s plan was simple enough. She had correctly guessed that after her conversation with Rainbow Dash in the castle, she and Fluttershy would likely involve themselves in some last-minute preparation for the race. And while Twilight herself wasn’t exactly an expert on the practical aspects of racing, she had several excellent books on the subject, all of which espoused similar advice: pace oneself, and finish strong. So she surmised that, logically, the best way to lose a race was to do the exact opposite. As soon as the race had started, she set off at the fastest sprint she could – rather dragging Rarity with her – meaning to utterly exhaust herself by the time she reached the tree. She would not be able to keep up anything like a good pace on the return leg but would still be able to say, with total honesty, that she had tried her hardest. Dash and Fluttershy’s training would ensure they’d overtake her and Rarity long before they could finish, thus in a factual sense it’d be Fluttershy’s ability that would ultimately lead her to victory – fair and square. It was the perfect plan!
This all came as something of a surprise to Rarity who quickly found Twilight effectively yanking her right foreleg forward and beginning at a highly unreasonable pace! However, she was quickly forced to keep up with her team-mate lest the constant, rough tugging cause the delicately tied bows on the silk scarves that entwined them to come undone too soon.
Applejack didn’t really have her own plan for losing the race. She was determined in herself to run the best race she could, just like she should. Her actual strategy – if you wanted to call it that – rested on Pinkie Pie, and in the event it turned out to be either a masterstroke or a terrible, terrible idea. Because if Applejack was under any illusions that she was going to have any say in terms of their speed or direction, they were almost immediately shattered when, trying to put her left leg forward and set off at a gallop, she felt it instead being drawn upwards!
Pinkie Pie began the race by bouncing, as she was wont to do. Upwards, over, down, bounce! Up, over, down, bounce! Her self-imposed sugar-based sabotage gave her ridiculous strength, improbable speed, and an absolute mountain of energy that simply could not be constrained or focused. Pinkie Pie in the midst of a sugar-rush was akin to watching a train crash consumed by a tornado. She wasn’t a pony anymore – she was a force of nature. Her ears twitched, her pupils were no more than dots, her grin was a terrible, manic rictus... and Applejack was reduced to a passenger on an extremely uncomfortable ride. The farmpony felt sick already: this was like being on one of those inflatable bouncy-palaces that the foals enjoyed at parties, except lurching from place to place instead of softly bouncing.
But lurching quickly! Even to Pinkie’s own surprise – so far as she could register surprise from inside her sucrose-addled brain – her leaps carried them both forward at an egregious rate, to match that of Team Unicorn’s mad, uncoordinated sprinting a little way to their left.
And as Dash watched a certain victory turn into, ‘So, that’s how it is?’ from far back in third place, she looked quickly at Fluttershy with a determined scowl and made to quicken her step. “Come on, Fluttershy!” Brisk, rhythmic cantering wasn’t going to cut it.
And Fluttershy responded just as Rainbow Dash knew... knew she would.
Like a hero.
Fluttershy was known for many things. A quiet, demure nature. A kind, sensitive disposition. A wonderful way with animals and creatures of all kinds. But of all the things she was known for, a turn of speed and fleetness of foot wasn’t among them, and that had always surprised Rainbow Dash a little.
Fluttershy might not have the endurance of an athlete like herself or Applejack, nor Pinkie Pie’s weird ability to arrive at a destination before having technically set off for it. But when she needed to; when she wanted to, she could move! Darting relatively short distances in the blink of an eye, moving with the rapidity and intensity of a whip-crack.
Twilight had pointed it out earlier. Ponyville had won a silver medal in the Equestria Games Aerial Relay, and been beaten out by only the narrowest of margins at that. And much as Rainbow Dash liked to brag about her own role in that contest, she would never begrudge the truth: there had been three ponies in that team, and were it not for Fluttershy, the medal table would have looked quite different by the closing ceremony. She had been awesome. Just like always.
And now, as Rainbow Dash gee’d her up, Fluttershy set herself her own little determined frown, and together they increased their speed to an all-out sprint.
They remained perfectly synchronised, their training and their affinity for each other ensuring each hoof-fall was perfectly timed as they ran. The smoothness of their gait and the ease of their pace was more than a match for the awkward, almost painful-to-watch tactics of their opponents, be it Pinkie Pie’s suicidal bouncing while dragging Applejack’s dead-weight; or Twilight and Rarity’s roughhouse dashing, expending a great deal of energy but completely unable to get their strides to match efficiently. And in short order, Team Pegasus began to reel the others in as they approached the tree.
The apple tree in question was a large one, sporting a wide trunk plated with thick, knotted bark, and chunky, shallow, sprawling roots that twisted and turned as they spread away for several meters above-ground before finally delving into the solid earth. Getting around the tree without taking a very wide line would require effective teamwork and skilled coordination if any of them wanted to avoid tripping on those roots and taking a tumble. That was the first problem.
The second was that, while Applejack had explicitly stated that every team had to go round the tree, she had given no indication as to which way, and so each team ended up deciding for themselves. And they all decided differently.
Team Unicorn – as the furthest team to the left – naturally took the leftmost approach, intending to circumnavigate the tree in a clockwise direction. However, the left aspect was where the roots lay thickest and longest, and they were immediately caught up in a half-dance of almost-falling, tripping on bark and over each other as they tried to work their legs into sure footing. Team Earth Pony took rightwards, however the issue here was that in tandem with the trip-hazards and uneven ground the roots presented, the tree also sported several low branches, which Pinkie’s bounding threatened to carry herself and Applejack into! For several horrifying seconds, concussion was a real possibility.
Team Pegasus, as the centre team, had the hardest choice to make. Fluttershy, being on Rainbow Dash’s left, instinctively began to head to the right, under the impression that Rainbow Dash would prefer the approach closest to herself. But on feeling Fluttershy’s gentle pushing, Dash frowned and pushed back to the left. The Unicorns were at least predictable, and overtaking them was going to be far easier than getting in the way of whatever Pinkie was up to.
They were right behind them now, Twilight and Rarity struggling on only a length in front, almost halfway round the tree. They had taken a wider line than expected, but even where the roots were thinner, fewer, and further between, they were still causing issues.
Rainbow Dash gave Fluttershy a gentle push further left, planning to pass the unicorns on the outside using their superior pace.
They drew alongside, and then everything came to a crashing halt.
Twilight’s plan to totally exhaust herself had worked. Her legs felt leaden and unwieldy, and as she tried to raise her left foreleg once more to negotiate another infernal bark-clad tendril, she found herself tackling her own fatigue and that of Rarity, and on this occasion it happened that their collective strength was inferior to the weight of their joined limb.
Their hooves struck the bark and they tripped, Twilight’s awkward mid-trot balance causing her to fall heavily leftwards into her teammate. Unable to counter Twilight’s momentum, Rarity fell as well, pushed straight into Rainbow Dash. The unexpected impact came at a crucial point in Rainbow and Fluttershy’s stride, and unable to recover from the weight of two ponies suddenly falling into her, Dash fell like a domino, and Fluttershy’s legs buckled beneath her.
The three ponies fell onto Fluttershy in a tumbling mass of bodies, heads and legs. Eventually they came to rest, with Fluttershy lying pinned at the bottom of the pile.
But before any of them could take further stock, Pinkie Pie and Applejack appeared rounding the tree from the other side, Pinkie’s last, unfortunate leap putting both of them on an inescapable collision course with their friends.
They crashed heavily onto the pile, the weight of two earth-ponies not normally known for being slight of frame adding itself forcefully to the mass.
Unheard in the crash, a small cry of pain emanated from the bottom of the jumble of ponies.
They weren’t down for long, each of the teams already trying to scramble back to their hooves. Dash was determined to get there first, in spite of their awkward position. As soon as she felt Rarity’s weight shift, she wriggled and scrambled upright, but Fluttershy wasn’t moving with her as quickly as she might. Thankfully their forelegs were still securely bound and she dragged her teammate up off the ground. “Come on Fluttershy! We gotta win this!” Twilight and Rarity’s scarves had come undone in the fall, and it would take them vital seconds to re-tie their legs, and meanwhile the impact seemed to have knocked some sense back into Pinkie Pie, and she had stopped bouncing to give Applejack some sorely-needed respite, the farmpony immobile and green-cheeked, looking like she was about to be very ill indeed. If they could just make a good start now, they’d have this in the bag!
“Rainbow Dash... I don’t think I can–”
“Of course we can!” encouraged Dash with a grin. “We’ve got this!” She tried to make a start, setting off at a gallop back towards the finish line, but Fluttershy still wasn’t moving with her as smoothly as she had before. On the first stride, the pony at her side hissed and sucked air through her teeth. On the third, she yelped quietly. And at the seventh, she cried out.
“Rainbow Dash, stop! Please!”
She stopped. And Fluttershy’s legs crumpled as she fell back to the ground, threatening to pull Rainbow with her until Dash regained her balance. Dash looked down at her urgently. “Come on, Fluttershy, get up! We’re on the home stretch! We gotta–!”
“It hurts,” she whimpered.
Dash looked down, saw her friend breathing heavily, eyes scrunched shut and teeth clenched, and she stopped everything. The world seemed to go quiet.
Right there and right then, the race was over.
“Fluttershy? Are... you okay?” she asked.
Fluttershy nodded, but her eyes were still firmly shut and even threatening to water. “I... landed on a root in the fall,” she said between gasps. “Hurt my ribs. I don’t think I can run.”
“That’s okay, that’s okay,” blurted Dash, “Just take it easy. Stay with me. Don’t go towards the light – that’s bad.” She dipped her head, wrestling with the knot on her leg with her teeth, slowly working it undone until it came free. The coils of rope slipped to the ground and they were separated at last, allowing Dash to look at her partner more closely. Years of experience with death-defying tricks should probably have given her an intimate knowledge of all kinds of calamitous injury. And yet as she cast her worried eye over the pony lying before her, all she could really tell was that Fluttershy’s legs all still seemed to bend the right way, and there was nothing on the outside that should normally be on the inside. “You’re okay, right?”
“I’ll be alright,” said Fluttershy, still gasping a little. “It hurts when I breathe...”
“Nono, keep breathing. Breathing good,” babbled Dash. She raised her head. “Twilight!”
Twilight and the remainder of the group trotted over to join them, a worried glance exchanged between Rarity and Pinkie Pie. At a prompt, Twilight examined Fluttershy with a few careful, apologetic prods – eliciting a few stifled intakes of breath through clenched teeth. Twilight withdrew her hoof and, closing her eyes, lit her horn. She cast an aura over and around Fluttershy's midsection, simply letting it swirl and pulse without further manipulation as she furrowed her brow, concentrating on something behind her eyelids. A few moments later the aura vanished and Twilight opened her eyes again, this time with a small smile. “You’ll be fine, Fluttershy. I don’t think anything’s broken, but you might have a bruised rib. You’ll just need to take it easy for a little while.” The relief on Dash’s face was plain for all to see.
A moment later Spike joined them, having had to stride from the finish line still some distance away. He arrived grasping the book he had been clutching earlier as though it were a talisman and sported his own, confident grin. “Congratulations Fluttershy. I hereby announce that you and Rainbow Dash are... the winners!”
Six pairs of eyes turned on him silently.
“Uh... what?” said Dash.
“Well okay, it’s kind of by default, since I’ve had to disqualify both the other teams,” explained Spike.
“What?!” cried Twilight and Applejack as one.
Spike winced a little, but recovered and held up the book before him, presenting the title for their consideration. The Official Seven-Legged-Race Rule Book. Then he flipped it open and, addressing Applejack first, began to read. “Ahem. Rule seven: the binding shall be of rope, cord, cloth, or other similar, permanent material not likely to perish.” He snapped the book shut. “Sorry, but liquorice is candy, and definitely doesn’t qualify.”
“It’s liquorice rope!” protested Applejack.
“Nope, it’s liquorice,” conceded Pinkie Pie with a shrug and a smile. Whatever sugar-fueled trance she’d formerly been under appeared at last to have dissipated; the benefits of a rapid metabolism.
“Okay,” said Twilight. “But what’s wrong with silk?”
“Nothing,” admitted Spike. “But your scarves came undone when you both tripped at the tree. Rule four says you’re not allowed to continue the race any further until you’ve re-tied your legs. And technically, you’ve both run from the tree... to here,” he pointed out.
Twilight frowned at herself, silently vexed at being caught out on a technicality, while Rarity simply shrugged. “Oh dear, woe is us, hmm Twilight?”
“Exactly,” said Spike with aplomb. “So, I’m happy to announce that the winners of the inaugural Sweet Apple Acres Seven-Legged Race are...!”
“Um, Spike?”
Spike stopped, Fluttershy’s quiet, querying voice halting him mid-sentence.
With a little effort, and a couple more stifled gasps, Fluttershy struggled up to a sitting position and caught her breath.
“Thank you, Spike. Thank you everypony. I appreciate what you’ve all tried to do, but I don’t think that we can really say that anypony’s won. It would be a bit silly.” She hesitated for a second. Then, “Could I have a moment with Rainbow Dash, please?”
Several nods were given in response and, standing and just about able to walk now, Fluttershy led Rainbow Dash away from the group and over back towards the apple tree.
They sat beneath the boughs, in the long shadow cast by the sun now greeting the horizon, the whole world turning a lively scarlet-orange. The warm summer breeze wafted gently against the branches, leaves rustling faintly.
“Sorry I didn’t win like you wanted,” said Fluttershy.
Dash blinked. Her eyes widened. “Huh? How did–? I mean... I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said with a poorly concealed note of guilt.
“Come on, Dashie, do you think I don’t know what’s really going on?”
“Um... well...?” Dash hesitated, absently rubbing the back of her neck with a hoof and wishing for the ground to open up. But in the end it was Fluttershy’s soft, honest gaze that broke her. “Okay, fine. Yeah. I really wanted you to win.”
“I know,” she said softly. “But... why? I told you, I don’t mind not winning. It’s just not a big deal to me. I don’t understand why whether or not I win something is so important, especially to somepony else. And I don’t understand why you’d go to all this silly trouble?”
“Because–!” started Dash, and then caught herself. She didn’t have an end to that sentence at first, but slowly, one began to form. She forced her gaze to meet Fluttershy’s. And Rainbow’s next words were spoken with honesty and love.
“Because you’re special.”
Dash smiled and Fluttershy, a little disarmed, smiled back. But Dash wasn’t done yet, and she took a breath. “I’ve been trying to work it out since we were playing earlier, y’know? Why I love winning. And you know what it is? It’s because when you win at something, for a while, you get to feel a little bit special.” She took another breath and put on a slight frown. “But you’ve never won anything, and you don’t know what that’s like. And that’s not fair! Everypony gets to win at something. Everypony gets to feel special sometimes. Why not you? Why doesn’t one of the most awesome ponies I know get to feel like she’s special at least once? I just... it was really important to me that you to have that. That you know that. So, yeah... this happened.”
“Oh, Dashie. You really don’t understand?” The two friends sat opposite each other in the quiet shade of the tree, and at length and with a tear in her eye and a warm, soft, honest smile on her lips, Fluttershy took a breath...
“I do feel special...”
* * *
A clear day. A small cottage. An uneasy atmosphere.
“Cloud-one?”
Rainbow Dash made no move. Just sat still, gazing at her board with the same slightly-annoyed, slightly-troubled look she’d had all afternoon.
“Rainbow Dash? Cloud-one?”
Dash looked up from her trance, then back at the board, but still made no move towards it. Fluttershy opened her mouth to ask if something was the matter, but before she could get another word out, Dash drew a quick breath and pre-empted her.
“Fluttershy? I’m really sorry, okay? I was a total jerk. I just... don’t know what got into me. I mean, you never told me you were that scared of dragons! But still... I said some pretty uncool things. Really really uncool.” She forced herself to meet Fluttershy’s eyes. “Would you...? I mean can you...?” She struggled and re-started. “You’re gonna forgive me, right?” Her eyes gave it away for the desperate plea it was.
And Fluttershy felt a smile form, completely on its own. “Oh, Dashie. Of course I forgive you. That’s what friends do.”
“We’re still friends?”
“We’re still friends,” confirmed Fluttershy, her warm smile never leaving.
A winter’s morning. A blanket of snow. A cosy cottage.
“On stage?! In front of an audience?! I... I couldn’t!” cried Fluttershy.
“Come on Fluttershy! You did all that fashion-runway nonsense with Rarity. This is just like that, except with talking!”
“But I hated it!” she objected. “You know I hate performing in front of others. I’d just make a mess of it. And I’d let everypony else down too.” It was a disaster waiting to happen. How could Rainbow Dash even think this was a good idea?
“You’ve never let anypony down before, and you won’t now,” said Dash with a firm note of confidence. “Besides, we’ve got two whole weeks to rehearse. And think of it like this: the crowd’s not gonna be watching you, they’re gonna be watching Private Pansy. Imagine like she’s a totally different pony.”
“But she won't be a different pony, she’ll be me!” Why didn't she understand that if she did this, she’d choke and ruin everything for everypony else?
Dash sighed. But rather than the impatience Fluttershy had expected, instead her face softened and she met Fluttershy’s gaze with understanding eyes. “Look, I know this isn’t your thing, okay? And if you really don’t want to do it... we can find somepony else to fill in. But Princess Celestia is asking us herself.” She unfolded Twilight’s borrowed letter and showed it to Fluttershy. “Everypony’s super up for it, and we all wanna do it together. As friends. It just wouldn’t be the same without you.”
“I just don’t think I can,” Fluttershy mewled, casting her gaze to the floor.
And Rainbow Dash approached her, and put a hoof around her withers. “Hey... it’s not like you’re gonna be up there by yourself. I’m gonna be right there with you. I mean... well, don’t get me wrong, I’m gonna be yelling at you a lot,” she said, now taking her open copy of the script and quickly leafing through several pages. Then a few more. Then, with a frown, more still. “Uh... wow, a whole lot, actually. But...” she looked up again. “That’s not real, okay? Even when Commander Hurricane gets mad at Private Pansy... Rainbow Dash is right there for Fluttershy if something goes wrong.” She smiled warmly. “I know you can do it. Whaddya say?”
Fluttershy looked up. Rainbow Dash really had that much faith in her? She really thought she could do this?
She... she wouldn't want to let any of her friends down.
She took a deep breath.
“O–okay. I’ll do it.”
An early spring morning. A full picnic hamper. A heavy knock at the door.
“Rainbow Dash, come in!”
“Fluttershy...” muttered her friend in grumbly greeting, entering with obvious reluctance.
“Oh, I’m so excited,” chirped Fluttershy, flitting on her wings and almost dancing in the air with glee. “I’ve packed us a picnic, and I know the perfect spot to watch from, and look! I’ve got us these hats to wear, just like real adventurers.”
“Oh. Great,” griped Dash.
“And Twilight lent me this book we can use to identify all the different species! It's going to be so much fun!”
“Yeah. Fun,” said Dash, less than enthused and eyeing the binoculars hung from Fluttershy’s neck with open skepticism.
Fluttershy’s smile faltered and fell, a little wave of disappointment washing over her. She sighed silently and met Rainbow's gaze. “Rainbow... you don’t have to come if you really don’t want to.”
Dash blinked and looked up. “Huh?”
Fluttershy smiled, this time kindly. “I’d have really liked to have watched the butterfly migration with you, but I know there are probably other things you’d rather do. If you don’t want to–”
“Whoa-whoa-whoa,” said Dash with a frown, cutting her off. “I said I’d come with you, so I’m coming with you, okay?” she said, snatching up one of the two pith helmets from the table and seating it firmly atop her head.
“Are you sure?”
Dash rolled her eyes, hard. “Would you just come on already? Otherwise you’re gonna miss, like, one butterfly or something.” She was already stalking, head low, towards the open door, and with a happy grin, Fluttershy quickly popped the picnic basket on her back and followed her out. They were going to have so much fun together!
Fluttershy felt a soft, comfortable impact as she was caught by the cloud, her desperate flight ending abruptly. “Whoa girl, take it easy!” came Dash’s voice from nearby.
Had it really happened? All of that water, funnelled safely to Cloudsdale?
“Wha– What? Did we do it?” she asked, her dizziness clearing.
“Yeah!” cried Rainbow Dash, hooves outstretched victoriously, hovering just in front of her. “We did it! You did it!” Dash threw her forelegs around her in a tight hug, both of them giddily elated. She released her and, with a little twinkle in her eye, extended her right wing. Fluttershy, taking her cue, extended her left, and they slapped their wingtips together in a little, private celebration.
Dash led her back to the ground, and to the crowd of ponies gathered there. Fluttershy stood nervously for a moment. Rainbow Dash was a great friend, but the others would surely have no qualms about telling her just how feeble she’d been; how she’d barely helped at all.
“Great job, Fluttershy! That was awesome!” said Flitter from her left.
“Yeah! We couldn’t have done it without you,” echoed Cloud Chaser.
Oh, wow. Well... maybe she’d done okay after all. Maybe, just this once, she’d been adequate...
Behind her, she caught a glimpse of Spitfire beginning to amble over towards Rainbow Dash, and Fluttershy politely took a couple of steps away to go stand on her own. It wouldn’t be fair to interrupt Rainbow when she had the chance at a personal conversation with her absolute hero, after all.
She couldn’t hear exactly what Spitfire said to her, but it was definitely a compliment of some sort. Rainbow would be so pleased, and Fluttershy smiled, happy for her. Then, unexpectedly, Rainbow spoke up, loud.
“Thanks, but if you wanna talk guts, then you gotta give it to my number one flier: Fluttershy!” Then she shouted! “Let’s hear it for Fluttershy!”
And all of a sudden, everypony was chanting her name. Cheering her. Liking her!
Oh... Oh my. She grinned a happy, happy grin.
Something was wrong, and Fluttershy just couldn’t put her hoof on it. She still felt normal herself, but everything else was all... out of sorts. It was like she’d woken up this morning and the whole town just didn’t want her around anymore.
Still, she was sure everything would be better soon. Leaving Ponyville just... felt like a better way to go somehow, as she weakly dragged her knapsack towards the air-balloon and hoofed over a few measly bits.
“Fluttershy, wait!” called a voice from behind, causing her to turn. She saw Twilight, with Spike in tow, hurrying over to her.
“Oh, hey Twilight,” she mumbled, unable to muster any enthusiasm. It just... wasn’t that sort of day. Or life, really.
“Where are you going?” asked her friend.
“I’m moving back to Cloudsdale,” she said hopelessly. “I don’t know what’s wrong but... I just can’t seem to make anypony laugh.” In demonstration she offered Twilight a whoopee cushion and squeezed it between her hooves, letting out a pathetic, burbling raspberry that she was sure had been funny, once upon a time. Maybe. It all felt so distant and hazy somehow. Like she was looking at the past from behind a veil – the shapes and the colours were there, but it was all just a jumbled mess that she couldn’t see clearly. Had it always been like that? Anyway, Twilight looked unimpressed with her display, just like everypony else had this morning.
Twilight finally spoke up again. “Before you go, I was wondering if you might be willing to help Rainbow Dash. She’s really struggling with her animals,” said Twilight.
Fluttershy recoiled a little, surprised. After all, Rainbow Dash had always been the expert with critters of all kinds, hadn’t she? “But... I don’t really know anything about animals,” she said, wringing her hooves.
“But you do know something about Rainbow Dash,” said Twilight confidently.
Fluttershy thought for a moment. She did know something about Rainbow Dash. In fact... after a whole memory-fogged morning of everything feeling strangely off somehow, this one thing felt right. This one thing she knew with absolute, unwavering certainty. “I know that she’s a true friend. And I’ll do anything I can to help her...”
Fluttershy stood quietly, secretly nervous as she waited for Princess Twilight to hand down her verdict from her seat in the royal box.
Twilight looked conflicted for a moment, then reluctantly resolved. “I’ve heard what you both have to say, and I’m sorry Rainbow Dash, but my hooves are tied. You said it was a fair trade.”
Fluttershy sighed a little and looked at the ground. At least Rainbow Dash would have what she’d really wanted all along. She’d be happy. That was what mattered.
“Yeah, I said it,” argued Dash from off to her left. “But I was wrong! I did want that book. A lot. I said I wanted it more than anything in all of Equestria! But there’s no thing that’s worth as much to me, as a friend...” She paused to look at Fluttershy meaningfully and with an abashed expression. “I might have forgotten that for a little bit, but it’s true.” She turned back to Twilight and raised her voice. “Which means there’s no way this trade could be fair!”
Fluttershy felt an odd, happy, comfortable warmth inside her and her expression became a sincere, humble smile, almost a tear in her eye.
“Oh come on! That’s–!” started the Daring Do trader. Then her face seemed to soften and tears actually came to her eyes. “...the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” She wiped the tears away with a hoof. “Okay. The trade’s off!”
There was a cheer from the crowd, the book was returned, and then suddenly Rainbow Dash threw herself at her, tackling Fluttershy to the ground in a warm, tight hug and didn’t let go, wearing a wide, relieved smile. And Fluttershy smiled back. Rainbow Dash really thought she was more important to her than the most important thing in the world?
* * *
The two friends sat opposite each other in the quiet shade of the tree, and at length and with a tear in her eye and a warm, soft, honest smile on her lips, Fluttershy took a breath...
“I do feel special,” she whispered.
She wiped a tear from her eye. “Once, a long time ago, the kindest, nicest pony I’d ever met told three mean bullies to leave me alone.” She held Rainbow’s gaze, but her hoof scratched a little at the ground. “Before then, I thought nopony would ever be nice to me. I thought maybe I wasn’t worth being nice to, somehow. But when that happened... it was the most special I’d ever felt.
“I never expected it to happen again. But then every time I saw that pony after, she was still nice to me. She talked to me, and I felt special then, too. And then, suddenly, she was always there for me, even when she didn’t have to be, or really want to be. And every time she came to spend time with me, that special feeling came back. Even now, every single week she comes to my cottage to play a game, even though she knows she’ll win, and even though it’s probably not fun for her anymore, and even though she’s got lots of better things she could be doing instead... she always comes anyway. I feel special because even after all this time, and even though we don’t have much in common, she still chooses to call herself my friend. I could win a hundred races, games, contests and competitions, but nothing would ever compare to how I feel every day, just knowing that...” She reached out and pulled Dash into a warm, soft hug. “You make me feel special, Rainbow Dash,” she whispered.
“Stop!” cried Dash. Something was wrong with her face. She could feel it. Like it was going all screwy somehow. “Just stop okay! You’re gonna make me...!” Sudden tears came to her eyes and her face just crumpled. “Aw, dang it!” Her voice cracked and she wrapped her hooves around Fluttershy, burying her face into her mane. “I’m totally not forgiving you for this,” she said between muffled sobs.
“Okay,” whispered Fluttershy, with a little smile.
Suddenly, they were interrupted by a distant, high-pitched voice.
“Flutterhugs?! I want one!”
“Pinkie, wait!”
A moment later there was an impact and a soft squeeze accompanied by a great deal of pink, frizzy mane. Fluttershy hissed painfully as the pressure on her torso increased, prompting Pinkie Pie to release her and back away quickly with an embarrassed smile. “Sorry!”
“It’s okay, Pinkie,” said Fluttershy. She raised her head so she could look her in the eye with a warm smile. “Your friendship is special to me too. In fact, I’m so lucky to have so many good friends who’d all go so far out of their way for me...” she looked over to her remaining friends who were already naturally following Pinkie over to stand beneath the tree. “...But you all really didn’t need to go to all this trouble,” she finished with a chortle.
“I’m glad you know we were only trying to help, darling,” said Rarity.
“Oh, of course I do.”
“Guess maybe we should’a actually asked ya if you wanted it,” Applejack chimed in with a guilty smile. Then the farmpony’s gaze fell to Rainbow Dash, still burying her muzzle in Fluttershy’s mane. “Uh... is she okay?”
“Shut up, Applejack...” came the slightly muffled, sniffly reply.
“Never mind,” said Applejack, now grinning. “Answers my question.”
Rainbow Dash, feeling more attention on herself, finally composed her features enough to release Fluttershy from the hug. She remained seated and turned, the rest of her friends surrounding the both of them with kind smiles. She felt like she had to say something. And what else could she say to a group of such good friends, who had all gone so far out of their respective ways today? Who’d all dropped what they were doing and done so much just because she’d asked them.
Well, there was only one thing, really...
“You guys... are all the worst seven-legged racers ever!”
She said it with a frown for effect, but it didn’t last long and everypony let out a happy, tension-relieving chuckle.
The laughter died and Applejack stood forward. “Come on, y’all, let’s head on back to the barn. I got a heap o’ stuff set up for us for after the race: cold drinks, and a Congratulations Fluttershy cake... though we can probably just pretend like we can’t see all them little iced letters–”
“Cider?!”
“Yes, Dash, cider too,” she said, starting to lead the way back to the barn, her friends in tow.
As their friends walked off, Fluttershy lingered for just a moment beneath the tree, and Rainbow Dash faltered with her. They exchanged a look.
There was a question Dash had asked herself earlier in the day. She had wondered why Fluttershy continued playing that game with her every week when she knew she’d never win. But it wasn’t winning that she cared about. It wasn’t even the game, really. It was simply the fact that every week, her friend made time for her. And, Rainbow Dash resolved to herself then and there that she always would. Always.
“I meant it, y’know,” said Dash quietly. “You’re really special.”
Fluttershy didn’t say anything. Only met Dash’s gaze with a smile. The kindest, warmest, most humble, grateful and honest smile you would ever see. A personal smile that would never have been borne of victory in a shambolic contest; one that could only ever be coaxed to appear through honest words and kind deeds. When Fluttershy smiled like that it just lifted your whole spirit to see it, and Dash returned her own smile, kind and heartfelt. Together they stood and walked after their friends in the crimson sunset.
So they hadn’t won. But winning wasn’t everything, according to the old saying. And, given the choice between winning some contrived race and seeing Fluttershy smile like that... she’d take the smile every time.
A familiar cottage. A weekly visit. A cheerful greeting.
“Come in, Rainbow Dash!”
“Heya, Fluttershy!”
The day was another long, hot, summery affair, though there was at least a cooling breeze to provide some comfort, and a few scattered clouds in the sky provided slow-moving patches of shade here and there.
Dash sauntered into the cottage and subconsciously looked over to the dining table, noting that Fluttershy had already set out the two Battleclouds boards. Seeing them lanced her with a strange, odd pang of disappointment. Fluttershy must have noticed something because her happy smile fell a little. “Is something wrong?” she asked.
“Nah... it’s just, I thought we should probably play something different today...” said Dash, weakly. Memories of the previous week were still strong, and with this being the game that had triggered a whole day of futile shenanigans, she’d rather lost her appetite for it in the short term, not to mention for actually wanting to beat Fluttershy at it.
“But I thought you understood? I don’t mind if...”
“Yeah, I do, I get it,” said Dash. “But it still feels wrong for me, y’know? I just feel like we need a different game. At least this week.” She really didn’t feel like a whole afternoon of relentless victories against Fluttershy today. Why wasn’t there a game they could play that Fluttershy would have an even chance of winning at? Or even drawing at? Tieing a game would be better than...
Oh.
Oh. It was so obvious!
Dash’s face lit up into a wide grin and she reached out and wrapped her leg around Fluttershy’s forehoof, speaking excitedly. “Come with me!” She raced, Fluttershy in tow, to the windows at the rear of the house. Pushing them open, they leaped through into the rear garden, finding themselves on the warm, soft grass.
Scanning around, Dash quickly found a patch of bare, dusty earth and a short, sharp stick which she took in her mouth. While Fluttershy watched, Dash drew a pair of parallel lines in the dirt, and then two more, perpendicular to the first pair and trisecting them into thirds, creating an open-sided three-by-three grid.
Fluttershy looked up, confused. “Noughts and crosses?”
“Exactly!” cried Dash. “Trust me, there’s no way you’re gonna lose today. In fact, you might even win, because if there’s one thing I learned last week... it’s that I am terrible at this game!” She grinned. “So, you wanna be X’s, or O’s?”
Fluttershy looked up and smiled warmly. “O’s, please.”
“Okay then,” said Dash, passing Fluttershy the stick. “You go first.”
