Chapter 2: Even Skeletons were little once.
I grew up in a small rural town off on the far northern edges of Equestria, not quite in the mountains, but close. The ponies up in those mountains were scary and lots of ponies said they were bad luck. So Mother, Father and I never went near them. I saw one of the ponies once. He was big and he was, true to their word, scary. He didn’t stay for long. The village I lived in was called Cornicopia, that’s “Corn-i-cupia” to be pronounced right. It’s a silly name, but everypony was very serious and there wasn’t much time for jokes or pranks. It was a dreary sort of place. I can’t remember what Mother and Father did for careers, it was so long ago. We scraped by on a meagre living. They were very humble, and I was a playful filly with white coat and grey mane.
Even as a filly I had a thing for the Wonderbolts. Well, lots of pegasi did, but very few of them were as devoted as me. I had anything and everything I could put my hooves on about the Wonderbolts. Newspaper clippings, posters, stuffed toys, action figures, everything. The other fillies thought I was weird. Although they came to think I was weird a long time before my obsession with the Wonderbolts. My eyes and my teeth weren’t exactly easy to hide. Father always told me to be more careful. Mother scolded him frequently, but I think they just made it into a game, because they always ended up smiling at each other.
Father often joined me with my little sessions concerning the Wonderbolts, especially if there was a clip from the latest show in the newspaper. He was an avid follower and my mother often thought he was chasing a losing dream. He’d simply replied that he admired them, not strived to be them.
I believed him.
Of course, my interest in them wasn’t entirely admiring when I started maturing, turning from a filly to a young mare as it were. I started admiring them for more than their speed, grace and all the other things that make the Wonderbolts so wonderful. I started paying attention to what they looked like. I thought Spitfire, who was only a new recruit them I recall, was the most beautiful. There was a Pegasus named Power Flap as well, but I didn’t like him. Most of the Wonderbolts from that era are gone now, and it was a bit of a shame to see their old tricks descend into misuse. It’s strange really, I hit about sixteen when Soarin joined them. He instantly caught my attention, not because of his looks because he was a scraggly, gangly sort of colt at the time, but because of his age. He was only a few years older than me and already he was a Wonderbolt. It amazed me. This led to my mother telling me that if we believe in something hard enough and work for it, anything is possible.
It was also around that time strange things started happening to my sleepy little town. Ponies sleeping for days on end with no signs of stopping, manes and tails growing in reverse. I swear I even saw a pony’s eyes change on themselves. Father started getting worried. Father was a unicorn, which is why I spent so much time on the ground with Mother. She was a Pegasus through and through, her blood had the much more dominant Pegasus gene whereas Father had the recessive Unicorn gene. Oh, I loved genetics at school too. I’d given some serious thought into being a scientist one day, but Father warned me away from it. Said it was a lot of hard work with little pay.
I believed him of course. He was my Father. I still believe him.
But when these changes showed up, the townsfolk got more suspicious of everything around them. They still went about their lives as though nothing mattered and everything was grey, but now their eyes were more alert, flicking from place to place, pony to pony. It started to scare me and I became a recluse. Father and Mother didn’t know what to do and eventually told me to stop sulking and get some fresh air. Of course I did as I was told. I was a good filly for the most part. I won’t lie; I’d done some pretty silly things. But we all do at that stage.
~*~
The day I got my first scar was at school. Although it faded with time, it’s still there, a constant reminder that I’m not normal, that I’m different.
Unique.
I’d gone to school, as was usual and expected of me. I had a little Wonderbolts bag with my lunch in it and everything. It was a regular sort of day. Except that one of the colts from my school, and this is in my last year, had fallen sick. Things were still going all weird and wrong. I guess, in retrospect, they took it out on the pony that was most different…
~*~
“Hey Freak!”
That’s what they used to say. They’d say it and I’d shy away. I never liked confrontation, let alone with ponies almost twice my size. The hoofball team were the worst. I mean, most hoofballers act like they were thumped in the head more times than was strictly safe even before the sport. There are exceptions of course, but this was certainly not one of those times where it showed. I remember they kept asking me what I was doing, where I was going. It scared me because they’d follow behind me and nip at my flanks and sides. There were, of course, more intelligent athletes at my school, but not many. To this day I’m not really sure what they wanted. Sometimes they left welts or teeth marks on my skin, other times not. This was one of those times, only worse. Much worse.
The leader… Despite my obvious differences from the rest of my school mates, I think I was seen as quite pretty back then. The cutie mark on my flank leant me a certain mysterious air and I never was incredibly social. I think the leader of this little band of bullies wanted me for himself, which is why he taunted me so often, maybe thinking he could have an excuse to teach me manners, as he used to put it, so I’d be too scared of him to do anything but what he said.
That day he went too far.
He bit down on my shoulder on my way to the classroom, behind the shed we kept bikes and things in. I’m not saying that he was biting normally either, it was much harder than normal. I remember screaming it hurt so much, tears came to my eyes. I think he was surprised as well, but he ended up just looking smug when he stepped away. He had blood on his lips which he spat out directly onto me. I could barely hear anything he said afterwards, but he and his friends walked away. Only one of them looked back at me, a look of concern on his face, before hurrying after his friends. I could feel the blood ebbing from the bite. It’s still there you know, where my shoulder meets my neck. He bit almost down to bone, my skin was too soft to handle any real punishment. I blacked out after a while, the pain was too much for me. I vaguely remember pain as they stitched up the bite, and them asking me who did it. The problem is, I didn’t know his name. I didn’t follow Hoofball, and I didn’t know his name.
I think I blacked out again during the stitching it hurt so much. Either way I woke up in the hospital with Mother and Father by my side, worried sick. They’d tried to find out who’d done it to no avail. I was quite surprised when the colt who’d stopped and looked back at me came by, apologising profusely for being too scared to intervene. He left me a bouquet of flowers if I remember correctly. The hospital was worried that I had or may have contracted infection or disease from the bite, so I had to stay for almost a week whilst the decided whether or not I was okay. When I finally got out Father was insistent that I stay home for a while. After two days Mother put her hoof down and sent me back to school. There wasn’t really anything they could do anyway right? It wasn’t a nice feeling…
~*~
Skeleton Grin paused, a tear in her eye. Her hoof was rubbing at the scar she was talking about absently and Soarin was staring at her in horror. The little ones were fast asleep, which was just as well. She felt a nudge at her hoof and she moved it as Soarin inspected the area carefully. True to her word, there were several round and jagged marks on her skin that could have only come from teeth. Not knowing what to say, Soarin embraced her wordlessly. She clung to him tightly.
“A..Afterwards..”
“Enough.”
She stopped and looked at Soarin. He tried to smile at her with little success.
“They’re asleep, you don’t have to continue anymore. Tell them more tomorrow if you want, or if it makes you too uncomfortable you can read them something else.”
She looked torn between finishing her tale which, Soarin could tell, was nowhere near complete, and following through with Soarin’s instructions. Eventually she sighed a defeated sound and nodded.
“Okay Soar… I’ll go to bed then if you don’t mind, I’m… I need to rest.”
He merely smiled and nodded, relieved she’d listened to him. She could be extraordinarily wilful had she the mind for it. Ever so gently, as though made of fragile china, Soarin guided Skeleton to their room and nudged her to lay down on the bed. She smiled a sad little smile at him and did so, lifting a wing in an offer for him to join her. Only too glad to be with her while she was like this, he nuzzled his way up to her and drew the blankets over them to keep them that little bit warmer.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded, her voice taking on a dejected tone.
“I’ll be okay Soarin… I just need to rest. It’s been a long time since I told my past, and I didn’t realise it’d hurt this much.”
He kissed her cheek gently.
“It’ll be better in the morning, I promise.”