The journey to the castle happened to take them on a route that passed beneath a conspicuously low-lying cloud. A cloud from which contented snoring could be heard and over the side of which a multi-hued tail was lazily draped.
“Rainbow Dash!” hollered Pinkie, bouncing on the spot beneath it.
Rousing Ponyville’s chief napping specialist was not an easy task. Yet Pinkie had long since perfected the exact pitch at which her shrill voice could pierce even the most lethargic of eardrums, and so with a great measure of reluctance, the pony on the cloud stirred.
“Urgh... Pinkie?” said the cloud.
“Rainbow Dash? We need to hug, right now.”
There was a short pause. Then finally the cloud replied. “Pass,” it said in bored strains. The fluffy mass shifted and billowed a little, as though the pony in residence were turning onto her side.
“But it’ll just take a second!”
“Maybe later.”
“But there might not be time later!”
“Pinkie, remember when you told me to warn you when you were acting all loop-de-doo?”
“No?”
“Maybe I dreamed it. Anyway, you’re doing it right now. Come back later when you’ve burned off whatever sugar-rush you’ve got goin’ on. In the meantime...” she trailed off into a long, lazy yawn. “...it’s naptime.” Then she fell silent save for a couple of languid, slow breaths-that-were-almost-snores.
Fluttershy spoke up. “Um... Rainbow Dash? I think you should...”
But her entreaty was curtailed by new sounds of heavy definitely-snoring from overhead.
“Oh.”
Had to give it to her, that pony could drop off in a heartbeat. Several times a day.
“Never mind,” said Pinkie, unfazed. “We’ll come back for her later. Right now we need those answers!”
And so they set off again, the castle in their sights.
* * *
Regulation / Economies of Scale
“Admit it, Twilight! This was your idea! Why would you do this?! WHY?!”
“Pinkie?! Put me down!”
Twilight’s throne room had been quiet and peaceful for the whole morning. Making an entrance through the tall, double doors, Pinkie saw fit to change that straight away. She raced to Twilight, scooping her up onto the centre of the map-table and squeezing her around her middle. Tight. “No, Twilight! I’mma hug you for as long as it takes until you understand how amazing hugs are and you stop your crazy anti-hug scheme!”
I’M SO HAPPY WE’RE FRIENDS!
[hug]???[/hug]
“Could someone please tell me what’s going on?” pleaded Twilight, fast running out of air.
“Well, we’re just about figurin’ that out ourselves,” said Applejack from near the door, rubbing the back of her neck with a hoof.
“Pinkie Pie said she read an article about how hugs are going to start costing money... and now she’s worried about it,” added Fluttershy, neatly summing up the entire morning thus far into one ultra-compact nutshell.
“Exactly!” screeched Pinkie. “And who’s the one pony in Ponyville who could unilaterally introduce town-wide hug-based legislation? Princess Twilight!” she seethed. “She’s tired of ponies giving each other completely unregulated hugs, day-in, day-out, and now she wants to change everything by getting ponies to fill out really long and boring forms for every hug they want to give and then make them pay bits for giving them! It won’t work, Twilight. Hugs can’t be stopped with red tape! All it will do is force free-thinking, hug-loving ponies underground, closeting themselves in shady corners and hug-easies, giving each other illicit nuzzles far from the prying eyes of authority, bravely risking criminalisation until the inevitable uprising liberates them! Viva la revolución!”
“Pinkie!” snapped Twilight from within Pinkie’s vice-like grip.
“I think you’re gonna have to put her down, Pinkie,” said Spike, who had had to jump clear when Pinkie had first burst through the doors and made a mad rush straight for Twilight. “She’s turning purple.” That got him a strange look from the other three ponies in the room, and he rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
Pinkie blinked and looked back at Twilight’s very unimpressed, and by now slightly bloated face. Reluctantly she released her, dropping her onto all four hooves on the tabletop and allowing her friend to gasp for breath. It brought her to her senses. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay Pinkie,” said Twilight in that voice that suggested that forgiveness was not instantaneous, but would be along shortly. “But I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve never asked for anything like that, and I never would. Why would I?”
“So it wasn’t you?” said Pinkie, rubbing her chin with a forehoof. The implications were unsettling. “That must mean there’s another pony in power purporting to peddle this pernicious plan!”
“Or this is all just a big misunderstanding,” reasoned Twilight. “Pinkie... which paper was this exactly?”
“The Ponyville Chronicle. Today’s edition,” Pinkie stated. And then gasped long, hard, and wide-eyed, as the revelation hit her. “Of course! The Ponyville Chronicle is owned by the Canterlot Chronicle! This news must have broken in Canterlot!” she cried. “That means it’s not just going to affect Ponyville... it’s going to affect all of Equestria! And it means the ponies responsible are...” she gasped again – more for dramatic effect than the need to inhale – “Princess Celestia and Princess Luna!” she screamed. “I have to stop them...” she finished with a scowl.
“Pinkie, I... wait. What do you mean, ‘stop them’?”
“There’s only one thing for it, Twilight. I, Pinkie Pie, must go to Canterlot. To the royal palace itself. I must confront the two most powerful ponies in Equestria... and give them both non-stop hugs until they see the error of their ways and recant this wrong!”
“If you’re planning to use the same method as just now, that might not be the best way to get them to change their minds,” grumbled Twilight, her ribs still sore. “Pinkie, look. I can guarantee you that the Princesses haven’t come up with any kind of scheme to tax ponies for the hugs they give. But, rather than have you go all the way to Canterlot to find that out, how about I get you confirmation in writing right now? Would that make you feel better?” she said with a kind smile.
Pinkie sat, grinned, and nodded two big nods, her poofy cowlick springing back and forth.
“Okay. Spike? Take a—”
“Already done,” said Spike holding up a rolled scroll, bound and sealed.
Twilight did a quick double-take. “Huh? How do you know what I wanted to write?”
Spike set Twilight a very level gaze. “Seriously? We’ve been at this for how long? Try me.”
Twilight looked to Spike at first with an annoyed glare, and then a little smirk. “‘Dear Princesses Celestia and Luna. My friend Pinkie Pie has read that a new law requiring ponies to pay money for the hugs they give will be coming into effect very shortly. Please could you confirm if this is so? With warm regards, Princess Twilight Sparkle.’”
Spike’s expression remained bored and unmoved, and he balanced the scroll on the tip of a claw. Then, drawing a quick breath, he incinerated the parchment with a lick of green flame, the smoke coiling and darting to the nearest open window: the missive on its way to Canterlot.
“Really?” said Twilight with narrow-eyed skepticism.
“Meh... it was like, eighty-five percent there,” said Spike.
“And while we’re waiting, I can give you your real hug, Twilight!”
“Pinkie, no...!” But she was too late. Before she could move more than a muscle Pinkie sat down on her haunches on the crystal table-top, reached forward with her forelegs and pulled Twilight close. Twilight’s survival instinct initially encouraged her to pull away, but this was not the same crushing bear-hug that she had so recently endured. This was a gentle but insistent pull, and as soon as Twilight realised that this was an altogether less vigorous affair, she sat down herself, and allowed herself to be reeled in. Pinkie pulled her close and pressed her cheek to Twilight’s and Twilight followed suit with just the merest, slightest, cutest hint of hesitation. Aww. Twilight Sparkle might be the confident, well-read Princess of Friendship, but deep, deep, deep down there was still a tiny part of her that was the same loveable fish-out-of-water who’d first arrived in Ponyville with no idea of how to friendship. She went into her hugs with a split-second uncertainty; a latent, vestigial disbelief that she had found such unqualified acceptance here and a tiny little second-guess that always worried, Am I doing it right? But only ever a fleeting thing, and then she relaxed and they fell comforted and comfortable in each others’ embrace.
I’m so happy we’re friends.
I wouldn’t be me without you.
So. Adorable!
With a final squeeze, they released each other and sat back. There was even a little moisture in their respective eyes to compliment their happy smiles.
Spike bounded onto the table, placed himself not-quite-between Twilight and Pinkie, and raised his chin while holding out a claw. “Ahem. That’ll be five bits, please,” he said with a grin.
“Spike! That’s not funny,” admonished Twilight. “This is really important to Pinkie. Isn’t it?” she said, meeting Pinkie’s gaze. She didn’t need to hear the reply to know it was true.
“Okay, okay. But I really don’t get it,” said Spike. “You’re saying you’ll have to pay bits for every hug you give, right? But surely if you’re giving a hug to somepony, aren’t you always getting one at the same time? Shouldn’t it all just... I dunno, balance out?”
Pinkie’s eyes shrank. Lost focus. Even crossed a little as some horrible epiphany seemed to befall her. Finally she gasped loudly – which really was becoming a habit today. “Or cost double!” she cried. And then her eyes widened even further even as another terror struck. “It can’t be...” she whispered.
“Uh... what can’t be?” asked Spike.
But Pinkie was already moving. With frightening speed she had seized Twilight by the hoof and whisked her down from the table, bringing her to Fluttershy and Applejack. She deposited the Princess of Friendship adjacent to her two friends and gave a simple, stern command. “Hug.”
Pinkie backed carefully toward the table, observing as her three friends exchanged worried glances – honestly, why did they keep doing that? – and with movements that were at first hesitant, gathered close and extended their forelegs about each other’s withers.
I wouldn’t be me without you.
I’ll always be here for ya.
I’m so lucky to have you.
“It’s as I feared,” said Pinkie, looking on.
“What is?” asked Spike, hopping down beside her.
“Look Spike. It’s just like that triangle puzzle,” she practically snarled, her disdain on the scene before her clear. “How many hugs do you see?”
“Uh... one? It’s a group-hug?”
“Yes. And no. Don’t you see? Twilight is hugging Fluttershy. Fluttershy is hugging Applejack. Applejack is hugging Twilight. But Applejack’s also hugging Fluttershy, Fluttershy’s hugging Twilight, and Twilight is hugging Applejack!” she cried. “That’s six hugs!” A bead of cold sweat had appeared on her brow, and her breathing was a little heavier. “What if... what if all of us want a group hug? That’s going to be like... thirty hugs! If we count you, that’s forty-two hugs! And if Starlight joins in it’s... fifty-six hugs!” she wheezed breathlessly. “We’re never going to be able to afford an all-of-us-together hug again!” she wailed. And grabbed Spike. And squeezed hard while crying tears of desperation. I’m so happy we’re friends!
It was all Spike could do to get an arm free and pat her gently on the back – I won’t let you down – while with a glance he sought some measure of sense from his equally bewildered cohorts.
Twilight, Applejack and Fluttershy broke from their hug. A valiant Twilight tried one more time with, “Pinkie, maybe we should just calm down and...”
But the Pinkie Train Of Thought was unstoppable. “And that’s if we assume a one-to-one pony-to-hug ratio! What if Twilight was hugging Fluttershy, Applejack, and Fluttershy and Applejack together as a separate hug? If we multiply that out then group-hug costs are going to skyrocket exponentially!” Price of Hugs Set to Soar. Her heart skipped a beat and despair threatened to overtake her at this new line of reasoning. But she fought back hard. She couldn’t be defeated now. Not yet. Not until it was too late!
She dropped Spike, stood, turned and with conviction and passion announced to absolutely no-one on the opposite side of the room, “That just makes it more important than ever that I find the rest of my friends and make sure they get a last, free hug before the day is out!”
Seriously, it was weird – Pinkie just said it to thin air while standing in a determined pose with her remaining friends gathered behind her. As though she was expecting that somepony might be watching from the far side of an invisible wall or screen. And in the next instant she was gone, taking to her hooves and racing for the throne-room doors, the corridor beyond and ultimately, the main exit back into Ponyville. Leaving four bewildered friends behind her, mute with shock.
Until the silence was broken by a low rumble which became a full-on belly-belch from Spike. As his maw opened, a thin piece of smoke evacuated, coiled, and with a flash became a roll of bound parchment which he deftly plucked from the air. With practised skill he used a claw to break the seal and unfurl the scroll in a single, fluid motion, and began to read aloud.
“My Dearest Twilight.
We confess we are somewhat concerned by your proposal. We have never sought to place any barrier between ponies and their ability to express their love and compassion for one another. If Ponyville is suffering some economic hardship, rest assured we can think of many ways to improve the financial health of the town without resorting to draconian measures. If you are worried or need help, then you know that we are always here for you, but we hope you will reconsider this course of action.
With love, always,
Princesses Celestia and Luna.”
“What!?” screamed Twilight in half-panic, half-rage, rounding on Spike. “They think it was my idea!? Spike, what exactly did you write!?”
“Nothing that would have given them that impression. They’re clearly as confused as we are,” said Spike defensively, backing away from Twilight’s furious face just a step or two. “Hey... what are draconian measures anyway? Is it something to do with dragons?” he asked with eager curiosity. Just to try and change the subject.
“I’ll demonstrate what draconian measures are on you unless you help me fix this!” she cried. “Take another letter, fast!”
* * *
With haste, Pinkie bounded toward the Carousel Boutique – home to Rarity, another of her best friends and the most well-renowned fashion designer and clothier in Ponyville. And so it was, in fact, perfectly super-normal that on her journey hence she found herself thinking more and more about trousers.
Yes, trousers.
Plural.
You see, trousers always came in pairs, didn’t they? If you needed a stylish or practical rump covering, you went and got yourself a pair of trousers. One trouser on its own wasn’t a thing, because if it were it would be beyond useless. But when you bought a pair of trousers, you weren’t paying double just because you had to buy two of them. A ‘pair’ of trousers was still only one garment. Pinkie even supposed that there must exist such a thing as a four-legged set of trousers... a quad of trousers? A quartet? But if you needed such a piece of apparel – (why you wouldn’t just go for a jacket instead was a thought for another day) – you wouldn’t have to pay four times as much just because there were four trousers in it. That would be ridiculous!
Thus the same must hold true for hugs too. You couldn’t even make a hug with just one pony, so logically you could never have just ‘one’ hug, just like you could never have only one trouser. You needed at least two ponies for a hug – or two hugs; or a pair of hugs – but, like with the pair of trousers being only one garment called Trousers, that pair of hugs was only one hug called a Hug. And even if you added more ponies to that Hug – like with the four-legged trousers – there might be a small premium for the extra fabric involved, but it wouldn’t make the price increase exponentially!
So the conclusion was that group-hugs might be more expensive than a regular old two-pony hug, but they surely wouldn’t be massively so. The trousers had proved it.
As she finished this very satisfactory line of reasoning, she noticed a familiar cloud had drifted its way close to her path. A little tingle of excitement hit her as she realised she had a second opportunity to cross another pony off her list, and she angled towards it.
“Rainbow! Rainbow Dash!” she called out as she reached the hovering, tufty white pillow.
“Zzz,” was her only reply. Heavy snoring and a complete lack of voluntary motion. Repeated attempts did not alter that fact.
Pinkie clenched her teeth and growled under her breath as the most infuriating version of one of her best ever friends remained tantalisingly out of reach. Didn’t Rainbow Dash’s subconscious realise how important this was? It was just her luck that, at this particular moment her trampoline was in the shop for repair having succumbed to a highly unlikely, and alas utterly indescribable, calamity just the previous day. She was stuck on the ground with no way to reach her friend!
This was a problem she did not yet have the tools to solve. But she would fret not. Though the sun was well into the afternoon by now, the day was not lost. She would return to Rainbow Dash, and she would ensure that she got a free, happy hug that was just as loving as every other she had given today!
For now though, she turned and continued on her original path, the Boutique firmly in her sights. Within, she would find Rarity. And trousers.
* * *
The Free Market
The little tingle-bell above the shop door chimed sweetly as Pinkie made her entrance. No sooner was she over the threshold than her friend’s welcoming voice reached her ears.
“Come i∼in,” Rarity sang, finishing up a stitch or two on a flowing white silk gown with tasteful pink trim, adorned with pink lily-flowers. Satisfied with her adjustments, she turned. “Welcome to Carousel Boutique, where every outfit is chic, unique, and— oh! Pinkie Pie, how are you, darling? It’s so wonderful to see... oh...” she finished, a somewhat befuddled expression to her.
“Oh?” asked Pinkie, confounded by her companion’s confused countenance.
“Oh, it’s nothing darling. It’s just... after one has been a couturier for as long as I, one develops a certain knack for knowing just the sort of thing a pony is looking for as soon as she steps through the door! A sixth sense, if you will. And for some odd reason I sensed that you’ve come here for... trousers.”
“Close,” said Pinkie with a grin. “I’ve come for hugs!”
“Oh! Well now that I can most certainly assist with,” said Rarity with a smile. She took several dainty steps toward Pinkie, while Pinkie took two ungainly bounces toward Rarity. Sufficiently proximate, they both reached out and hugged with a warm, wonderful embrace. Rarity’s coat was as soft as cotton-wool, as smooth as silk and as warm as a muffin fresh from the toasting-oven. Her gorgeous mane was lightly scented with lavender and juniper; a heady combination and Pinkie almost felt herself melt into her.
I’m so happy we’re friends.
I wouldn’t trade you for the world.
Aww.
For several long moments they remained thus until, by unspoken agreement they released each other and stood back.
“So, what’s all this in aid of dear?”
“Nothing. Just making sure all my friends get a final free hug before the prices soar tomorrow,” said Pinkie.
“Mmm? Oh, that headline in the paper you mean?”
“You read it?” asked Pinkie. Finally, somepony who read the papers!
“Yes... though I do confess it didn’t make much sense to me. I’d taken it for some sort of error.”
“But you’re not worried about it?”
“Oh, da-ha-harling what is there to worry about?” chuckled Rarity. “Even if it’s true, it’s not as if a fire-spewing monster is bearing down on us. All things in perspective.” She caught the expression of horror etched on Pinkie’s face, and Rarity softened her own into her most sympathetic smile, her eyes full of compassion. “Of course I’m not saying it would be the best news, Pinkie. But if the paper is to be believed, we’ll adapt. I’m sure it wouldn’t be too bad once everypony got used to it. And who knows? A few bits spent in service of a luxurious hug like that one, might even make them all the more special,” she finished, the smile on her lips become contented.
Pinkie’s eyes bulged and she looked horrified, as though Rarity had just blasphemed. “Hugs aren’t luxuries, Rarity!” she exclaimed. “They’re for everypony! They’re basics, like food or water or air! If they’re priced like luxury items, they’ll be so expensive that only really really rich ponies will be able to afford to give hugs at all! What if... what if the only ponies that can afford to give them... don’t?! There’ll be no hugs! Can you imagine if the only pony in town who could afford to give hugs was somepony like Filthy Rich?”
“Now Pinkie, Mr. Rich is a gentlecolt who seems, inexplicably, to suffer from a rather ill-deserved reputation. Though, admittedly, not exactly the huggy type,” admitted Rarity.
“But I might not be able to afford to give them!” wailed Pinkie. “Or worse, I might only be able to afford some! What if I have to choose who to give hugs to because I can’t afford to hug all my friends! What if some get left out?” She sank to the floor, placing her forehooves over the top of her head and looked down at the ground in front of her. “I don’t want any of my friends to be sad because they didn’t get a hug. And I don’t want them to be mad at me for not giving them one.” She gave a tiny, tragic sniffle and mewled, “Why did this have to happen?”
Now if at any point Rarity had been at all bemused, beguiled or bewildered by either Pinkie’s sudden appearance this day, her off-kilter behaviour or her curious non-sequiturs, she had never given a hint of it – a fact that made her unique among her friends thus far. Instead, Ponyville’s resident fashionista seemed determined to meet Pinkie’s ramblings head-on using the most effective tools in her arsenal: composure and acumen. Thus it was that in reply, Rarity gave a knowing but still warm smile, and began. “Pinkie, listen to me,” she said. “Firstly, I fear you’re vastly overrating the amount of bits that a hug could feasibly be expected to cost. After all, you’re right, darling: hugs are for everypony. And if this is going to be some new policy, it’s going to have to be realistic – pricing ponies out of the market from the get-go simply eliminates revenue. Secondly, even if you couldn’t afford to hug everypony you wanted, Pinkie, you know that your friends would never begrudge your choices, no matter what – or who – they were. We’d understand. And thirdly... think of it this way, darling: it’s in everypony’s interests to continue to give hugs. The more hugs you and other ponies who can afford them give, the less expensive they’ll be,” she finished with a smile.
Pinkie blinked. This was new. She looked up at Rarity with sad eyes, but there tinged with hope. “M-more hugs equals cheap hugs? But... how?”
“Supply and demand, darling,” said Rarity, still with her friendly smile. “Why, it’s the basis for determining the value of any commodity.”
Pinkie only sat and cocked her head in confusion.
“Take my business as an example... and this dress in particular,” said Rarity, drawing Pinkie’s attention to the beautiful silk gown she had been working on. “I create exquisite-quality high fashion crafted with the eye of an artiste and the care of an artisan. Because of this, many of my designs such as this one, are unique – or at most, part of a limited-run; thus ‘supply’ is low while demand... well, I don’t wish to brag but let’s just say it is high enough that my best work can command something of a premium among the more discerning,” she finished with a perfectly-weighted touch of humility. “Contrast this with a business like that... um... hat ’emporium’ Applejack likes, where they have a higher ’supply’ of accoutrements, but more... modest demand. Thus, those items sell for fewer bits apiece,” she explained. “In its simplest form, the rule goes that the greater the supply of something, and the lower the demand for it, the less expensive it must be. And so it seems to me that the same must hold true for hugs: for as long as supply remains high, and ‘demand’ remains low, then hug-giving will be affordable by even those on the tightest of budgets,” Rarity finished with a little, triumphant smile.
Pinkie thought. Staring into the middle-distance, eyes unfocused, and when she spoke, her voice sounded far, far away.
“Before midnight...” she murmured, lips barely moving.
“Yes... uh, and you clearly have a very healthy ‘supply’ of hugs, Pinkie, and so I have absolutely no doubt that when—”
“...all of Ponyville...”
“Wait... what?”
Pinkie snapped out of it, spun, reached out and grabbed Rarity’s face with her forelegs, gently but firmly smushing her cheeks together. “Rarity, Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” she squealed. “I know what I have to do! If I can make a hug for every pony in Ponyville before midnight then suddenly demand for hugs will be super-low, supply will be super-high, and hugs... will be super-cheap!” Her grin was so wide that Rarity was certain she could see all of her teeth. “Gotta go!” she chirped, releasing Rarity and speeding from the boutique like a stone from a slingshot, leaving a shell-shocked Rarity trying to come to terms with this latest development.
The fashionista stood still, staring slack-jawed out of the open front door.
“Oh dear.”
* * *
Buyer’s Remorse
Like a blur, Pinkie Pie raced through the streets of Ponyville, intruding grossly into the personal space of every pony she met.
“Hiya Daisy, you look great, can I hug you?”
I’m so happy we’re friends.
“What...? Pinkie, I—”
“That was great, gotta go! Hi, Lyra, lovely day right? Can I hug you?”
I’m so happy we’re friends.
“???!”
“Fantastic, thanks a lot! Hey Bon-Bon, why so frowny? Well I’ll turn that frown upside down...”
And so it went on. And on.
All through Ponyville Pinkie Pie pelted, ping-ponging from pony to pony like a possessed pink pinball, with each equine she encountered enduring an excitable embrace.
This was perfect. She was doing something. Taking control. No longer was she unsettled by a nebulous, scary future in which she was helpless against the whims of The Mare. Rarity had given her the answer. For cheap hugs all she had to do was keep the supply high, and the demand low – and logically, once you’d just had a hug, demand for the next one would be at its lowest. Thus, when the new regime came at midnight tonight, hugs would be so cheap that anypony would be able to afford giving them. A lot!
“Cheerilee! So great to see you! Can-I-hug-you?”
I’m so happy we’re friends.
“Wh... Oh, Pinkie Pie? What was—? Where are you—? Oh, never mind.”
Yet as she continued her quest there grew a constant little caustic voice in the back of her head. A voice that wouldn’t stop counting. For every hug she gave, the voice would add one. Add one. Add one.
“Hi Minuette! Hugs?”
“Hi Pinkie Pie! Sure!”
I’m so happy we’re friends.
Me too!
Add one.
All through the afternoon until the sun went down at the close of the day, Pinkie hugged her way through the town, meticulously tracking down everypony from Amethyst Star to Zecora – a fortunate encounter given her seldom sorties to the suburb. And every time she gave a hug, the counting voice added one more: every single one mentally recorded, the total ready to be multiplied by the new, unknown integer, h, that – even in spite of her immense efforts – come midnight was inevitably going to be some number greater than zero. She found she couldn’t stop pondering just how many bits her current rampage would cost under the New World Order, her fretful mind making a secret, no-doubt-sky-high invoice as proof that no matter what she did or how many hugs she gave now, this current course of action could only be a one-time affair, never to be repeated. A small piece of freedom she would never enjoy again, not because she had no desire to, but thanks to those same cold, uncaring economics that had forced her to such measures in the first place. And with each new tally recorded by the counting voice her pace slowed, as though each new pony – each new number – added an imperceptible weight to her shoulders.
“Caramel... wait up! Here... have a free... hug!”
“I... uh... what?”
I’m so happy we’re friends.
“There... ya go!”
“Oh... well, thanks.”
Add one.
And just like that... that was it. She was officially out of ponies. Every single pony who had happened by either design or chance to be in Ponyville this day had been given their own happy hug, and as Caramel turned and lumbered away Pinkie slowed. Stopped. Allowed her smile to slip. Let out a long, steady breath and sank to her haunches next to the fountain in the town square, an abruptly solemn figure in the now shadowed twilight. Raising her heavy head to the heavens she saw the moon rising above the thatched roofs of the nearest houses, silver light playing across prickly straw. She’d finished her mission without much time to spare, but she had surely done enough to make hugs as cheap as chips come the morrow. Surely. After all, she couldn’t possibly have done any more.
And then she noticed it. That cloud. Alone in the darkening sky. Drifting lazily a little to the south.
She stood and began to walk.