//------------------------------// // The Final Struggle for Daisy's Heart // Story: Lure of the Flower // by Impossible Numbers //------------------------------// The starry scythe hacked its way through the stems and then resolved – amid the splashing greenery – back into the cape-like shadow, which loomed over the spot where the two had been. Which they were watching now, from the next plant over. They'd moved to another hiding spot ahead of time. Overhead, the shadow boiled. Ripples flexed along the edges. The whole thing cracked like a whip and let out a screech worse than nails on corrugated iron. Lily had to bite her lip to stop the yelp. Both of them crouched down behind the pitcher plant. Of course one had been there. And so had the suspiciously helpful stems nearby. “I think I can say,” whispered Lily, “with all honesty…” She took a deep breath. “You, Daisy, are now officially mad.” To her irritation, she saw Daisy go about her business, pretending not to hear her. Instead, Daisy sized up the nearest stem, cocking her head left and right. Then, as carefully as she could, she guided her teeth around the thickest one and pulled. No give. Daisy let go. “Help me out here, will you?” Lily’s gaze flicked from one to the other. This just didn’t seem real. Nevertheless, she reached forwards with both hooves and pulled. There was a snap. Daisy stumbled into her, and they both fell over with a splash. They saw the shadow turn. Beside it, the last resistant stem toppled and crashed before sinking into the waves. In the silence, the steady drip of water falling off Lily’s locks. Then… Uh oh, she thought. Triumphant roars broke out. Both of them spun and leaped onto the field of pitcher plants, batting their hooves off leafy lids. Daisy tucked the stem under one leg and flailed madly with the other, making up for graceless steps with sheer speed. “Well, that didn't take long to mess up!” shouted Lily. “Tell me what it’s doing!” Daisy called. Lily glanced back. A starry form shifted, lengthened… “It’s a lawnmower!” she shrieked. “It’s just turned into a lawnmower!” Far behind, concealed blades ripped and shredded the pitchers, throwing up a cloud of confetti. Only the tower of the handle loomed over it all. “Good!” yelled Daisy. “Now look away!” “Daisy, what –?” “Look away! Then look back. Then tell me what happened!” “What! Why!?” “Trust me!” Groaning, Lily threw her gaze up at the black sky. The ripping and shredding ground to a halt. She hastily looked back. “It’s just hit the cobra lilies.” “Exactly! Too tall to cut!” “Daisy, what is going on!? We didn’t pass any cobra lilies!” “Of course! Dreams work on child logic! Tell a child plants grow and they think they just pop up where you want them to!” “That's what you used to think?” “Yeah!” Another ripping, shredding barrage broke through. Not daring to look ahead, Lily focused on the explosion of greenery behind her. Coming up fast, the starry buzz-saw slashed like a discus, closing the distance… She looked away. A gloop and a flop. She looked back. Sundews surrounded the buzz-saw. Lopped-off stumps went on as a trail behind it, but the mass of dews had smothered most of the blade, and the harder it spun, the more ooze spread and wrapped over the stars. Leaves curled around them. “It’s working.” The faint giggle pushed through her frantic panting. “It’s working!” “Is it?” A pause. “My word.” “You knew it’d work!” said Lily accusingly, but the giggle was breaking out. Why she giggled, she had no idea. Perhaps, she suspected, she was just happy to have any time to giggle at all. “They’re trying to help me because that’s how I see plants. I look at a plant, and everything just seems… better. Like the money and the other ponies and everything just go away for a bit.” A thump. They both skidded to a halt, moving so fast they skated across the water briefly, rotating slowly, and ended up facing the other way. Where the sundews had been, now a swarm of pitcher plants piled on top of each other. Occasionally the bulbous tip or dew-topped stalk of a sundew poked through, but the shadow was lost to the scrum. Even the frantic buzzing from inside died away. “Is it over?” said Lily. “Or is this the bit where it bursts out and scares the life out of me?” Daisy straightened her leg and picked up the stem in her mouth. While Lily hung there waiting for conventions to spring a trap, the sight of her friend swinging the stem experimentally made her brow burn. “Daisy?” she said. With her mouth full, Daisy only managed a monosyllabic grunt, which Lily interpreted as: “Yes?” She just knew that shadow was gonna burst out at any moment… “Look,” Lily said, keeping her gaze on the scrum. “I just wanted to say Roseluck and Goldengrape wanted to be here too. If this doesn’t work, um, I thought you should know that much.” “Goldengrape?” Or at least, Daisy mumbled something that sounded like it. “Yeah.” After Daisy didn’t say anything for a while and the shadow kept delaying an escape she knew, just knew, was coming, Lily went on. “Only…” Lily squirmed. How do other ponies give these speeches so easily? “I upset you before, about the party, and, I, uh, I just want you to know as well – look, I’m sorry about all that stuff I said. I didn’t mean it. Much. Well, I did, but that’s why I’m sorry now. Really, truly, I-can’t-believe-it-has-to-end-like-this sorry.” The tip of the stem lowered. When Lily looked, Daisy had slackened her jaw. Oh dear. Now I’ve gone and upset her! Way to go Lily! Quick, say something positive! “I’d like to have given you a chance to – I mean, next time, we could pick something you like doing – me and Roseluck and you, just like old times – and we’d enjoy it, and um… We’ll make it up to you. I swear. For what I did, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. But I’ll make it better. Or would if I could. Um, any requests? Just say something. Anything. Please! I'll DO it!” Daisy seemed to be staring over her left ear. Just in case, Lily looked behind. Nothing. So a faraway look, then… Were her eyes gleaming? A hiss: they both turned back to the scrum in time to see the smoke pouring out. Out of every crevice, out of every gap in the leaves, out of the bottom and the middle and the top, the smoke hissed and poured and billowed. The last wisps joined the condensing form of the shadow far above. Amid the stars, the living piece of the night growled with impatience. Lily didn’t scream. She was already suffocating under the terror. Her lungs were petrified. Her legs couldn’t move. It dived. She felt Daisy grab her and throw her into a stumble, and the shock ran down her and she galloped, galloped as she’d never galloped before, gaze jumping from spot to spot, to stems, to mist, to ripples up ahead, to anything that might give her eyes an escape and let the body come too – And there, at last, she saw it. Everyone knew at least one carnivorous plant. Some knew the pitcher plant, some the sundew, and a rare few even knew about the cobra lily. Nevertheless, without exception, the one that snapped its jaws around the mind and refused to let go, the one with all the teeth, the one that didn’t just wait but actually moved like lightning to get a meal and strike terror into the idea of being as small as an insect… was there. Lurking level with the water. Open and waiting. Bristling with fangs. The thing was to their immediate right. If she hadn’t glanced about, they’d have run right past it. Thank goodness, she thought, that I'm a coward. “Daisy!” she yelled. “This way!” Promptly, she threw herself towards the fangs and relief washed through her; Daisy’s splashing soon followed hers. Closing in, the shadow’s angry roar hurt its own disembodied throat and became a wailing screech. Lily leaped over and spun around. Daisy landed right beside her. Swooping down on them, the shadow swelled with angry red stars, lengthening, pointing to an arrowhead tip. Daisy’s stick-like stem lashed out. Hit the jaws. Which snapped. Lily squeaked while the broken stem flew over her ears. One moment, the world was full of arrowhead shadow; the next, it was full of green flytrap jaws, tight shut and tightening still. Not a gap showed. Even the line was no thicker than a hair’s width. A tip of snipped-off shadow plopped into the water at their hooves. From under the surface, slimy green stems curled and wrapped like a mass of delighted snakes. Green teeth peered down at them from all over. Sheer terrified memory pushed Lily closer to Daisy. Who let out a gasp she must have been holding back for a lifetime. Patiently, Lily watched her sag, unsure if she ought to pat her or let her get on with it. “It’s over, right?” Lily breathed. Inside, the echoes of the wailing screech died away. For some reason, Daisy kept on gasping for air. Wary, Lily stepped towards her. “You’re not hurt, are you?” “No.” Gasp… Gasp… Gasp… Amid the curling stems, the flytrap bulged, and equally quickly thinned again. Liquids glooped inside. “That’ll be the digestion, then,” Lily said with what she hoped was a carefree manner. “Good riddance.” The time felt like hours, but she at least heard Daisy settle down to a few breaths and saw her straighten up again. “Lily…” she said, still somewhat breathless, “what you said before…” “I mean it.” There was no hesitation. To her surprise, she saw Daisy nod at this, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Up till now, she’d expected some guilt-twisting and “you-don’t-have-to-do-that” turning. A small smile peeked out of Daisy’s face. “That sounds nice. Just like old times.” “Exactly!” Then just as she was getting used to happy Daisy, frowny Daisy popped up. “But it can’t be old times exactly. Too much has happened.” “Aw, you think too much. Does it matter? So long as we all feel the better for it. I’m not mopé-ing over what I did. Erm, but I’m not hiding it either. I just don’t want it to be all we remember. I’m not letting it make our friendship go bad, and that’s all there is to it. Really. That’s all there is to it.” Daisy mouthed the words to herself. Her eyes lit up. Something slammed inside the flytrap. One side bulged. The stems collapsed as though bereft of energy, splashing all around. Tangles hunched out of the surface as botanical sea serpents. Slowly oozing deeper into the depths. Lily groaned. “Why? Why do you have to be so full of guilt all the time!? Why can’t it just die!?” “Let it out.” Lily blinked and looked up. Across from her, she saw Daisy glower at the bulge as another slam pushed it further out. “What?” Lily said. “No more running.” “What is this, a last stand?” Withering sarcasm withered. “You’re serious? You’re gonna fight that thing?” “I didn’t say that. I only said no more running.” Awe and wonder crowded Lily’s chest. “But that’s suicide.” “It doesn’t matter.” Daisy’s head turned down, her eyes closing for a moment. “We’re out of ideas.” “This is a dream! Ideas turn up at random! Daisy, don’t do this!” Slashing sounds tore at the inside of the flytrap’s mouth. Hastily, Lily stepped between it and Daisy. “Everything’s going to be OK,” said Daisy softly. “Lily, do you trust me?” “Get away from here, Daisy! What are you gonna do? Just let it catch you?” When she looked back, she saw Daisy raise her head. Daisy narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you get it? We can’t fight it anymore. Remember? That Tantabus is not some invading monster; it’s a part of me. It's my guilt. Mine alone. I might as well hit my own brain.” “I’ll volunteer! There's no way I'm leaving you behind! Daisy, this is madness!” Hooves gripped her by the shoulders. For a moment, she was turned around and swore she saw Daisy glance at one shoulder in particular. They met glares. “I'm done being the coward,” said Lily, but Daisy's glare melted hers. “I have to be the hero this time. Please.” Gently, Daisy's grip guided her to the side. When Lily made to jump back, the grip tightened. “Please,” Lily croaked. Saddened, Daisy shook her head. Then the glare returned and aimed at the struggling remnants of the flytrap. “You're always doing,” said Daisy. “But you don't want to be a hero, Lily. I don't need one. I can't use one. I just want my friend. Trust me when I say this, please.” A blade ripped through the flytrap’s side. Stars streaked out. The mass curved round, a sapient blanket curling down to aim at them. Lily stepped forwards. Daisy held up a hoof. Uncertain, glancing from one to the other, thoroughly soaked in swamp water and sweat, Lily stepped backwards again. She saw Daisy shaking. “Look on the bright side,” said Daisy. Tears welled up when she met Lily’s gaze. “At least you’ll be safe.” Seconds before the shadow hit her, she shut her eyes tight. “No!” Lily rushed forwards, gripped her by the shoulders, and stared. Where Daisy’s heart would have been – visible right through her chest – the black mass of the shadow condensed into a dark, pulsing facsimile. Arteries and veins appeared as though poison seeped through them. “Daisy! Daisy, wake up! Wake up!” She shook her all the harder. “I don’t care if this is a dream anyway! Wake up!” Groaning with pain, Daisy winced and clutched her chest with both hooves. Suddenly weighed down, Lily tightened her hold to stop her falling forwards. “Why did you do it!? I don’t get you, Daisy! Why!? We could’ve gotten away!” She swore Daisy was shrinking, darkening, as she crouched lower. And in that moment, Lily found a new kind of fear. One that couldn’t run away or hide or scream or do anything, but a sheer, helpless collapse as the Lily here and now got a glimpse of a later Lily, a Lily living in a world where she didn’t understand and couldn’t do anything but twist in pain, without one pony there, one pony gone forever… “NO!” Her voice cracked. Sheer terror blurred her vision. Daisy stopped. Then she grew. Her darkening coat brightened again. Strong forelimbs gripped Lily tightly. And for as long as they did, as long as something reached out to her, all fear drew away as though fleeing a warm fire. To her shock, both relief and comfort seeped through, so old and unfamiliar that she swore she had turned into a foal again. Back when fear had been everywhere, at every time, even in her dreams. Except for the times someone had held her tightly, and shielded her, and given her a glimpse of life without worry but with care. Lily's returning embrace tried to give some back. Daisy broke away. She stood up. And she smiled. As though a threatening continent, imminently closing in, were now slowed and grinding away from her, Lily stepped back and stared. She checked; the shadow heart was beating on. “But… we lost.” She spoke like a child. “No, we just didn’t win.” Daisy wiped her own eyes. “I’m not going to win. It’s guilt.” “Guilt-based,” corrected Lily, desperate for anything to make sense no matter how trivial. “I can’t beat guilt,” continued Daisy, still smiling and with wet smudges under each eye. “Frankly, I don’t want to. It’s a part of me. Always will be. But I figured out from what you said… well, there are two ways you can deal with it.” “From what I said?” Lily searched the tearful face for any kind of clue. “Yeah. I figured out you can control it. Make it serve you, instead of the other way around. Look at your shoulder.” Frowning, Lily did so. It was pink. It was round where it transformed from torso to limb. Otherwise, there wasn’t much she could say about it. “You hit it, and it left a mark there earlier. But you were so busy helping me you didn’t even think about what had happened. You did something. You tried to help me. And I know it was just a try, but trying is everything. I never really do that much except mopé-ing and hindering and pretending I should be better than you, but you do something to help, and you do it honestly. That’s why the mark didn’t take over. That’s how you control it. I just needed some time to figure that out.” Suspicion narrowed Lily’s eyes. “You’re making this up, aren’t you?” “No. This is a dream, after all, so it makes sense. Well, that or we’re going mad, in which case it makes sense too. Feel better?” “No!” Yet as she watched, Lily sighed with relief; the dark heart faded, stars winking out, and soon Daisy’s chest was what it had been before. Nothing, as far as she could tell, had changed. “You’re not about to turn into a monster, are you?” Lily raised a leg to back off; Daisy gripped it and guided it gently down again. “No, listen. The guilt is a part of me. I can’t run away from it, because it’s always there wherever I go. So… the way I see it… either you look inwards and brood over it and let it turn you dark, or you look outwards and let it inspire you to make something beautiful from it. Something meaningful. Something that makes your part of the world that much richer, or prettier, or calmer.” As she spoke, the black mist faded away. Bright blue skies shone overhead, reflected over the waters that now soothed with gently lapping waves around them. Nearby, the plants bloomed with all the colours of the rainbow; pitchers, flytraps, and dewdrop stalks gave way to colourful buds opening wide under the sunlight. A wind shook the petals free. Drifting pinks and yellows and greens and reds flurried and became a storm of hues. Lily relaxed. Sappy speeches and eerily calm friends were shaky ground, but she knew where she stood with flowers. She even spun on the spot, head as far back as she could manage, taking the swirl and dance all around her as the meadow rang with the distant laughter of three foals. Once more, her gaze landed on Daisy, who reached out with a hoof. “Thanks for coming back for me, Lily,” she said. “We're not done yet, but I'm going to make it right. I promise.” Lily paused in mid-reach, not entirely sure she knew what was going on. Her social limits were hopelessly left behind. But the point was: the scary bit seemed to be over. Definitely. It couldn’t survive under this much sugary sweetness. She had a go at it. “Sweet dreams, Daisy?” Daisy's heart shone through again, this time white with blue stars. And for the first time, Lily smiled. They met hooves, and the petals slowly swept them up into the all-embracing sunlight. Lily laughed with joy for the first time in a long time, and gently closed her eyes. Whatever else had happened, she had not died once in this dream. There were some achievements well worth a bit of sappiness.