//------------------------------// // Epilogue - For Equestria's Future // Story: The Spirit of a Pegasus // by bookplayer //------------------------------// Hurricane arrived at his office precisely on time that morning, though he yawned a good bit more than usual and sent young officers scurrying to bring him coffee several times. But in spite of spending most of his early meetings grunting responses to issues he was barely following, he couldn’t deny he was in good spirits. By mid-morning he was in his usual form, except for his wings which were determined to remind him of his age and foolishness. He was bent over his desk, reviewing reports when there came a knock on his door. “Come in,” he called, glancing up to see the door opened by the last pony he expected, or wanted, to see. “Cushy office you’ve got here,” Puddinghead said, looking around and nodding approvingly. Hurricane glared at her. “I got Clover to cast a spell. It wouldn’t ‘ve been right to ask you to come down for an apology. And with how deep I put my hoof in it, I owe you the best I can offer.” She walked over and leaned against his desk, earning another glare. “So, you’ve my deepest apologies. I was an ass, and I don’t deny it.” “Apology accepted,” he said, in hopes she might get out of his sight. “Very well.” Puddinghead nodded, but made no move to leave.  “Probably doesn’t matter to you anyhow. That sort of thing only counts from ponies of honor, right? We both know I’ve got none.” Giving a snort, Hurricane shook his head and turned back to his reports. “You know, I never minded being called a mud pony,” Puddinghead said casually. “It suits me. I fight dirty, I play dirty, I talk dirty. It got me made Chancellor. Cookie’s got more brains in his hoof than I do in my head, but put us on a debate platform in town square and I’ll have him stammering and fuming so he can’t put two words together. That’s how we played politics in Girthshire; he was miserable at it.” During her rambling Hurricane had glanced up, and he leaned back in his chair studying her with a stony expression. Puddinghead offered him a shrug and a grim smile. “But… there’s no more Girthshire, and no more mud ponies. I’m an earth pony in Equestria now, but sometimes I can’t get the mud off my hooves.” A silence fell between them for a few long seconds before Hurricane frowned and spoke, “I earned my position in battle. Promotions for bravery and honor, tactics and skill… every one of them at the cost of blood and corpses of ponies and griffons raining from the sky.” He raised his eyebrows at Puddinghead. “That’s how we played politics in Hippocampus.” She gave a snort. “A bit rough on the losers, eh?” Hurricane nodded slowly. “So does blood wash off easier than mud?” she asked, with a sad smile he had to count as sympathetic. Hurricane drew a breath and let it out, his face softening to his normal impassive expression. “You’ve heard me in council. Reaching for the spear comes too easily to me. It’s a decisive answer to many problems, and my troops have the bravery and skill to see it through.” Puddinghead raised her eyebrows at him with that same sad sympathy. He nodded. “There’s no more Hippocampus, and the princess and you all keep me in check. I can’t say I don’t miss the glory of a successful campaign at times, but… this is a new world.” He gave Puddinghead a pointed look that managed to match her sympathy as he finished, “You and I are old ponies, we’ve got to do our best to keep up.” “It’s a better world. And you’re quite right.” She grinned. “Especially mucking about with you. It’s all in good fun until somepony gets run through with a spear.” Hurricane met her eyes. “You came close last night.” ‘I thought—” Puddinghead’s smirk and the twinkle in her eyes suggested she had been about to say something ill-advised, but looking in Hurricane’s eyes she stopped and closed her mouth firmly with a slow  nod. The smirk remained on her face as she drew a breath and started again, “Never been fond of spears, myself. There’re a hoofful of mares down there who can vouch for that.” Caught off guard, Hurricane raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. “I suppose I know better than anypony that there are things you’d rather have stay under the covers.” Puddinghead tilted her head. “But those ponies can also tell you there’s more than one way to please a mare. Get a bit of practice and maybe you’ll rest easier.” Hurricane stared at her for a moment, then he started to chuckle and shook his head. “You’re a rotten old scoundrel. But you’re not a bad pony.” “No need to sweet talk me now, I wasn’t volunteering,” she said with a grin. “Get out of my office,” he said with a smile, motioning to the door. “I’ll see you at council.” “I’ll be there, whether you want me or not,” Puddinghead said cheerfully as she turned and walked out the door. As she left, Hurricane chuckled again and went back to his reports. With Puddinghead taken care of, he knew the rest of his friends had at least some sense of honor, decency, or self-preservation. Aside from an apology he knew he owed Cookie for the slur against his tribe, and a private conversation he intended to have with Clover, the matter was likely dropped. He glanced out the window at the clear sky, feeling less burdened than he could remember in his life. *** Pansy stood outside Clover’s school on the sunny lawn, waiting for Hurricane to finish talking to their friend. She smiled and absentmindedly appreciated a bed of flowers; the night before had proven conclusively that all fears on this matter belonged to Hurricane alone. While she wished him well with all her heart, she had no doubt that even bad news could be soothed over the course of more nights like last night. In the center of the flower bed stood a statue of Lord Oblige, a unicorn noble who had given what Clover described as a whole rump-load of gems to finance the school and library. She wondered if he had heirs, and if any of them might do more for the future than his donation would. On the one hoof, they may be mages, or heroes, or simply keep his generosity alive through future generations. On the other, his donation was already assisting in magical research that would lead to greater and greater discoveries, and training the students who would become teachers of those things. She thought of her own mother, whom she’d hardly known. Springwind was famous as a fierce and skilled warrior, she’d organized a campaign against the griffons so bloody that it led to a treaty which lasted three whole months. She fell in battle when Pansy was young, so Pansy was left to wonder if her mother had actually had any traits that might keep Equestria strong, or if it was an accident of the stars that her honor foal had matched her in renown. As she was thinking, the door to the school opened, and Hurricane stepped out. Pansy smiled at him before he even saw her. He held his head high as always and looked as if he’d been there on important business, but he quickly glanced around and smiled as he caught sight of Pansy. Pansy flew over to him and offered a nuzzle before falling in step beside him as they crossed the well tended lawn. “How did it go?” He kept his face even and gave a shrug. “There’s little hope for a permanent solution, but there’s a chance she might be able to assist if we want a foal.” She considered that. “Do you want a foal?” “Yes. With you.” He gave a soft chuckle. “I never dared hope for it.” “Then we’ll try whatever Clover can offer us.” She stepped close to him and brushed against his solid body. “And if we can’t have one, there will be no apologies.” “If I can’t sire a foal, I’m still the luckiest son of a crow in Equestria. And one pony is responsible for that above all others.” Hurricane glanced over at her with a smile that he seemed to have invented last night, one of such fondness that Pansy felt her cheeks warm each time. “If that’s true, that pony is you,” she said. He raised a skeptical eyebrow, and she answered it, “You gave me more second chances than there are stars in the sky. You made the decision to join our tribe to Equestria before there was an Equestria, and you dealt with the opposition and malcontents. And last night, it was you who stepped forward to be the stallion I always knew you were.” He glanced over at her again. “If I stepped forward last night, it was past my own failings and only at your prodding.” “You don’t want to argue with me about this, Hurricane.” Pansy looked at him with mock severity. “I’m quite proud of my commander.” Hurricane gave an amused snort, and a knowing smile crossed his weathered face. “Pansy. For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve known what must be done, and my job has been to move the stars to make it happen. I’m not sure I’ve ever been your commander.” Pansy returned the same smile, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I won’t tell anypony if you won’t, Sir.”