//------------------------------//
// A Battlefield Commission 
// Story: Fit For Command 
// by Kaipony 
//------------------------------//

"Yona, move to the rear of the field. That'll give you more time to dodge. Smolder, you run interference for Yona and pick off stray balls. I'll distract them." Ocellus called out orders as her team dodged, ducked, dipped, dived, and dodged across the field. Facing off against them was the opposing team with Sandbar, Gallus, and Silverstream. The two sides weaved around the confines of the playing field, each doing their best, but it was quickly becoming apparent that the tide of victory was turning against one side.

"Hey, Gallus!" Sandbar called out, dancing on his hooves to dodge a pair of rubber balls that came screaming in his direction. "How about breaking out some of those Griffinstone Champion moves?"

"Well, I―ah!” Gallus squawked, a ball nearly taking his head off. “Uh, I don't think now's the time."

"We're getting clobbered out here!" Silverstream cried, narrowly ducking a shot from Smolder. "What better time could there be!?"

"It's..." Gallus's wings twitched in agitation. "It's just that―"  A ball torpedoed through the air like a missile, crashing into the griffin. 

The rest of the team's dwindling numbers were rapidly picked off until none remained. A whistle trilled, and an exasperated cry of defeat rose from the losing side while the winners gathered into a group hug. 

"We did it! We did it!" Yona chanted.

"That was amazing, guys," Ocellus praised.

"Every creature gather around," Fizzlepop ordered, blowing her whistle again. When the two teams had assembled, she took up her usual pacing. "Well done to Team Two. You're all showing great improvement over these past weeks of games and competitions. For improvement next time, I noticed a lot of hesitation from both teams when I started the game before you all had a complete plan set in place."

"That really threw a wrench into things," Smolder complained. "How can we be expected to keep from freezing if we’re thrown into the tundra without any firewood?"

Fizzlepop sat down and motioned for both teams to gather around in front of her. "A good plan enthusiastically executed now is better than a perfect plan next week. A wise general once said those words," she said, looking at Gallus, who quickly averted his gaze. A few heads nodded slowly. Fizzlepop continued. "Life is never going to ask you politely if you're ready. It's going to throw hardships at you, and you're going to have to react, adapt, and deal with them. Often without the benefit of having a complete idea about what to do."

"But what if we make the wrong decision?" Silverstream asked.

Fizzlepop shrugged. "You will. And often. No creature is perfect. You live with the consequences of your decisions and use what you learned to do better the next time. It takes years and years of experience to learn how to quickly make the right choices with little information." Her ears drooped slightly. "And even then, the most experienced among us still make bad choices."

"Even you?" Sandbar inquired.

"Especially me." Fizzlepop gazed across the students’ faces, ensuring that she made eye contact with each of them. "Lean on your friends and family. Grow stronger, for their sake and your own. Capitalize on each other's strengths." More heads were nodding now. "If you are strong where another is weak, use that strength to hold them up when they stumble. The sum of you all is stronger than each of you individually."

She allowed the lesson to circulate among the students for a minute before signaling for silence. "Let's move on. Team One. I believe that having been victorious in many of the past games made you complacent today. What happened?" No one answered. Fizzlepop allowed the silence to continue for a moment before speaking again. "You have nothing to say?"

Silverstream cast a sideways glance to where she knew Gallus was standing, near the back of the group of students. She started to raise a wing, hesitated, and then thrust it into the air. 

“Go ahead,” Fizzlepop said evenly.

“I...I think we were all counting on Gallus too much.” Her eyes lit up momentarily. “I mean, throwing axes? Come on! I guess we all kind of expected more.” 

"I... lied," a small voice in the back of the group said. All heads turned toward the voice.

"Say again?" Fizzlepop directed, searching the faces for the owner of the voice. Her eyes landed on Gallus. The griffin's gaze was fixed on the ground and his shoulders were hunched.

"I lied to you guys," Gallus repeated. "About being the dodgeball champion in Griffinstone."

A mummer of shock and surprise rippled through the students. They parted before Fizzlepop as she rose and stalked toward Gallus. "Explain," she demanded, staring down at him.

Gallus swallowed. "We didn't play the game back home. Games weren't really a thing where I grew up. I tried to get other griffins to play anything with me, but I just ended up throwing a ball against a wall most of the time."

Fizzlepop glowered down at the griffin. He shrank under her intense gaze. "That's very disappointing to hear, Gallus. You lied to your classmates, and to me. Why."

"I didn't want to be the odd griffin out!" he groaned, his feathers standing on end and making him look larger than he was. "Everyone else except Ocellus already knew how to play. I didn't want to be the one griffin no one wanted on their team."

"That's no excuse," Fizzlepop growled, her shoulders tensing as a stray spark of magic jumped from the stub of her horn on the floor. The other students backed up a little, but Gallus's friends stepped forward.

"Gallus not mean for anything bad to happen," Yona declared.

"It was just a game," Smolder added. "Besides, his skull is too thick to even let in a mean thought.” Gallus cast a glare at her that she pointedly ignored. “No harm done."

Fizzlepop inhaled deeply, held the breath for three seconds, and exhaled. "Intent is not the issue here," she said. "Game or not, deception among teammates, and especially toward superiors, is intolerable. Gallus lied to protect his ego, and as a consequence, he's going to be cleaning the entire gymnasium and the track field by himself this week." She stomped a hoof. "Is that clear?"

Gallus's muttered understanding was drowned out by the piercing cry of Fizzlepop's whistle. "Ten minutes of cooldown stretching and then go get cleaned up for your next class. Dismissed."


~~*~~


Starlight's office was as eclectic as Twilight's was organized. Fizzlepop studied the décor of the office while Starlight scribbled a few things on a notepad. Kites of a variety of colors and designs floated overhead, suspended from the ceiling. Rather than being placed at premeasured intervals according to a field of aesthetic design, framed pictures and documents along the back wall were hung wherever they would fit. A curio cabinet filled with precious knick-knacks and souvenirs stood next to a stuffed cabinet that was overflowing with loosely rolled scrolls. 

When Starlight finished, she tucked the notepad away and cleared her throat. "I need to talk to you about how you're running the new program," she began, steepling her hooves and propping them up on her desk. "Last time you were here, you taught our students about conflicts in Equestrian history, and the only reason Twilight didn't freak out more about warfare being discussed in her classroom was because your lesson plan was technically and factually accurate."

"Of course it was, Starlight," Fizzlepop stated matter-of-factly. "History cannot be rewritten without increasing the likelihood that mistakes will be repeated." She narrowed her eyes. "Just because something unfortunate or embarrassing happened doesn't mean it should be ignored or adjusted to protect a hoof-full of tender sensibilities."

Starlight held her hooves up defensively. "And I agree with you on that, mostly, but I'm having trouble seeing the benefit of formation drills. And the reenactment of the Battle of Normarendy on the campus sports field. I really need you to explain to me what friendship lessons you’re hoping to teach here."

Fizzlepop began to list off her reasons, punctuating each with a tap of her hoof: "Teamwork. Reliance on, and placing trust in, those who stand next to you. Creative thinking and adaptation when plans go awry. Planning and the need for action, even in the face of uncertainty. The strengthening of bonds that can only be forged through collective victory or defeat."

Starlight leaned back in her chair. "That's all..." Her voice drifted off for a moment before she leaned forward. "It makes some sense, but what about your changes to the activities and sports guidelines?" She pulled a few slips of paper out from a drawer and laid them on her desk. "Ocellus and Yona both came to me after losing their second game. They were very upset about having to go over, in detail, why they lost in front of all their friends. Especially when it was supposed to be a friendly event."

"I use a debriefing forum to identify what was done correctly, and what actions or decisions led to defeat," Fizzlepop replied, folding her hooves carefully in her lap. "How else will they learn and improve for the next time?"

"They were humiliated," Starlight declared, frowning.

Neither Fizzlepop's posture nor her expression changed. "Learning to deal with disappointment and defeat, even when it is embarrassing, builds us up to do better in the future. It’s important to know just because you’ve lost one time, it’s not the end so long as you keep trying. That’s why Twilight allows you to sit in that chair, and me to teach here.” Starlight’s ears pressed against her head as she narrowed her eyes. “Starlight, I encouraged Ocellus and Yona to come to see you because they needed to deal with their emotions and I'm not good at talking about feelings." Fizzlepop leaned forward. "Did you know that, just yesterday, those two won their first game together?"

Starlight did not immediately respond. She sat quietly as she worked her lips into a thin line. Then, she spoke in an even tone. “Be that as it may, Miss Berrytwist, but you seem to be ignoring the fact that they were agitated because of your actions.”

Fizzlepop lifted her snout. “I’m not here to babysit them, Starlight. I’m here to teach them how to stand on their own hooves.”

“By taking a sledgehammer to their morale whenever they lose a game of dodgeball?” Starlight hissed. “Another thing Twilight showed us, Fizzlepop, is that the ends do not justify the means. Who’s to say Yona and Ocellus didn’t try so hard to win just to avoid being lambasted in front of their friends again?”

Fizzlepop frowned, glaring at the mare. “That’s not what I’m doing, Starlight. I’m―”

“Treating them like your soldiers when they’re just kids,” Starlight said, leaning back in her chair. Fizzlepop remained silent, her frown deepening. Starlight took a calming breath. “I spoke with Twilight. She told me about the conversation between you two. I want to know, do you think turning games into military simulations is extending an olive branch? Do you go to bed at night satisfied with yourself when you have to be calmed by your own students because you got too worked up over a griffin’s harmless lie about being ‘the Dodgeball Champion of Griffinstone’?” Starlight gritted her teeth. “Do you know how far you may have set us back by putting your ‘harsh reality’ above this school’s core values?”

Fizzlepop glared for a moment longer before her gaze fell to the desk. “I do it because I care about them.”

Starlight shook her head. “I want to believe you, but your actions aren’t helping your case. You’ve already told Twilight that you’re going to try meeting her halfway. Well, I’m here to tell you that if one more student comes into my office teary-eyed and emotionally bruised because you couldn’t reign yourself in, I will personally see to it that you, Miss Berrytwist, are enlisted as a student here by the end of that hour.”

Fizzlepop’s ears were pressed against her head, her expression carefully blank. “...I understand, Starlight.”

Starlight nodded firmly, satisfied.

It was silent for a long moment before Fizzlepop found her voice. “You and I. We're becoming... friends. Right?"

Starlight pressed her hoof into her temple, sighing. “That’s why I’m giving you this chance, Fizzlepop. I know you care about your students, but I do too. You just need to ease up on holding their hooves over a fire pit in front of everyone when they don’t win. And I won’t be hearing of another incident where you get aggressive with them,” she said, an admonitory glint in her eyes.

Fizzlepop fidgeted in her chair and cleared her throat. "Then I have a favor to ask."

"Lay it on me," Starlight encouraged, leaning forward.

"I... could use some counseling. Some advice. For me.” Starlight pursed her lips, nodding. “The incident with Gallus, that’s not who I want to be.” Fizzlepop shook her head. “Not anymore. Sometimes I forget myself and just… follow my old instincts.”

Fizzlepop looked Starlight in the eyes. “I need to know how I could have handled it better so I can make it right."


~~*~~


The drooping willows, ash and elm trees with reaching branches, mats of creeping vines, and twisting yews of the deep forest, far beyond the sun-speckled hills behind the School of Friendship glowered down upon a small group of mixed creatures. The sun was partially obscured by drifting cloud cover, but six in the group took no notice of the weather nor the décor of their surroundings. Their full attention was solely fixed upon a single unicorn that lay prone in the dirt.

"We're losing her," Sandbar warned, biting his lower lip.

"Not yet," Gallus said. Together with Sandbar, the young griffin pressed down, holding steady pressure on a thick bandage. "She's still got some fight left in her."

"I don't know." Smolder knelt next to Gallus, lending her weight to a bundle of roughly hewn sticks as Silverstream secured them in place around an immobile leg with twine. "I've never seen her this color before."

"Quiet," Ocellus ordered. "I'm trying to concentrate." She held a thin thorn in one hoof and a length of stringy plant fibers in the other. Her hooves were shaking, making the task of attempting to secure the fibers onto the thorn, as one would a needle and thread, delicate at best.

"You can do it, Ocellus," Silverstream quietly cheered. Yona paced behind them.

"This all Yona's fault," the yak wailed. "Yona did not see patch of sharp plants. If not for Yona, teacher would not be hurt."

"Um, children," a patient voice deadpanned. The six students took no notice, continuing with their work. Yona stopped pacing.

"Of course! Yona will do traditional yak dance of healing to help." She stomped a little way off and began jumping up and down, kicking a different leg out each time she reached the apex of her jump. "Yak dance! Get well dance! Stomp the ground to help that frown."

"Really," the patient voice continued. "This is not—"

"She's getting hysterical!" Sandbar cried. "Quick, do something!"

The changeling squinted at the thorn and fibers, then glanced at her patient lying on the ground. Ocellus tossed her makeshift sewing implements away, took a deep breath, and held her hoof out to Sandbar. "Survival knife," she requested grimly. "I'm going to have to amputate."

"Okay!" Fizzlepop announced loudly. She rolled, freeing herself from the students holding her down. "That’s enough first aid training for today. Crazy kids...." Fizzlepop shook off the incomplete splint and gently peeled away the cloth bandage, revealing a shallow cut. The small gash glistened in the sunlight filtering through the canopy overhead, but it did not bleed further.

"Nicely done with the bandage and compression," she said. "Bladeweed cuts are usually no worse than a papercut, but the coating on the leaves often keeps the blood from coagulating for up to an hour. Excellent work." As Sandbar and Gallus congratulated each other, Fizzlepop cast a bemused glance at Ocellus. "Attempted amputation aside, you almost had the field suture ready." The changeling offered a meek grin.

"What about us?" Silverstream asked, clutching the bundle the sticks she and Smolder had used as a makeshift splint.

"An admirable attempt, for a first try."

Smolder shrugged. "I'll take it."

"Next time, look for larger pieces with a stiffer composition."

"And Yona?" the yak inquired, bouncing from hoof to hoof after the completion of her dance. "Did yak dance help?" Fizzlepop considered the question in silence long enough for Yona to cease her fidgeting. A solemn expression of disappointment began to replace her excited smile as the seconds dragged on. The other students leaned in, casting glances between their temporary teacher and their friend.

"I can not say for certain that your dance had any effect on staunching the bleeding," Fizzlepop finally answered. Yona's head drooped, and she turned partially away, a shameful blush creeping into her cheeks. "But," Fizzlepop added. The students perked up. "I can say for sure that it did make me feel better, and I can tell you from experience that a positive outlook has useful benefits."

"Yona knew it!" Her face beamed, and she repeatedly hopped into the air, slamming her hooves down into the dirt. "Traditional yak dances always best for healing!"

Fizzlepop shook the dirt from herself and gazed up through the trees, searching the cloudy skies. "It's getting late," she announced to her students. "Gather up your things, and we'll review the basics of map-reading and land navigation on our way back to the school." She was scooping gear into a saddlebag when she heard the soft steps of someone approaching from behind.

"Miss Fizzle, ma'am?"

She recognized the voice. "Yes, Gallus?"

"I just wanted to say thanks. And I'm sorry."

Fizzlepop turned and found the young griffin refusing to meet her eyes, shifting from paw to paw. She felt a mild rush coming to her cheeks. "For what?" she asked.

"Thanks for telling Yona that her dance helped out. I know you probably don't believe in that sort of thing."

"I..." Fizzlepop paused. Her eyes wandered, following Gallus's example by focusing on pieces of the forest, as though searching the foliage and undergrowth for an answer. The mare glanced over at Yona, who was showing off some more of her traditional dance moves. Fizzlepop's expression brightened, and her lips turned upward in a small smile. "I got some good advice about keeping an open mind. And I wouldn't be a good instructor if I didn't also listen and learn a little from my students." She cleared her throat. "And what are you sorry for?"

This time, the griffin managed to pull his flitting gaze up and meet Fizzlepop's eyes. "For lying. For pretending to be something I'm not because of my ego." His gaze drifted away again. "For disappointing you."

She sighed. "Gallus.” Fizzlepop reached out to lay a hoof on his shoulder. He flinched at the movement. She pulled her hoof back, her ears flattened against her head. "That was wrong of you. Lying. You know that already, and I can tell that your apology is sincere. Thank you. I accept." Fizzlepop then made a face as though she’d swallowed something particularly tart. “I mean, throwing axes? Really?” She dragged a hoof down her face, straightening her frown, and chuckled. “How in Equestria could I have believed that for a second?”

Gallus chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head. “It, uh, yeah, it did get a bit out of hand, huh?”

Fizzlepop scrutinized the griffin for a long moment, narrowing her eyes. “I would congratulate you on the sheer audacity of it if it hadn’t made both of us look like such fools.”

Gallus sighed and nodded. He turned away but stopped when Fizzlepop said, "But I owe you an apology too."

"Me?" he said, blanching.

Fizzlepop took a deep breath. "Yes. The day you admitted to your lie, I could have handled that differently. More maturely.” Gallus tilted his head, wary. “If anything, you’ve taught me something that day, Gallus."

Gallus's beak dropped, the griffin’s eyes going wide. “I-I did?”

Nodding, Fizzlepop said, “You did. It takes grit to admit to one’s mistakes.” Fizzlepop dipped her head. "I apologize for how I treated you. I will work to earn your forgiveness.”

Gallus was silent for a moment. “Wow, you really are serious, aren’t you?” Fizzlepop lifted her head, seeing the griffin’s pensive stare. Eventually, a wide, playful grin settled onto his face. “I’ll take you up on that. And I’ll work to earn yours!” Gallus drew himself and puffed out his chest, his wings twitching with energy. "It won't happen again, Miss Fizzle. I’ll get better, too!" He waited until Fizzlepop nodded before turning and running off to rejoin his friends.

The mare stood alone for a moment, her breath catching in her chest for a heartbeat. She watched Gallus's compatriots welcome him back into their circle and quietly said, "I believe you."


~~*~~


Fizzlepop Berrytwist stood in her white pinstripe jersey with her whistle and a stopwatch hanging from her neck. She watched her class as they jogged around the track next to the school gymnasium. Most of the students were not having much difficulty keeping a steady pace. Except for one.

A particularly plump young mare huffed and puffed as she lagged behind the clusters that had formed around runners of similar speed. She was not alone. On either side of the struggling mare was another student. Fizzlepop had watched all of her students perform and knew that the two which had hung back were capable of keeping up with the pack. As they passed by, Fizzlepop could hear them encouraging the plump young mare between breaths.

“One hoof in front of the other. Just keep moving.”

“Don’t think about the distance. Concentrate on your breathing. You’re doing great.”

The two students flanking the slower jogger glanced at their instructor as the trio passed. Fizzlepop gave them an appreciative nod. She glanced at her stopwatch and added, “Keep it up, Candy Plum. Maintain that pace, and you’ll beat your old record.” 

“Thank... you... ma’am,” Candy Plum wheezed, and then the trio was on to their final lap. Fizzlepop watched them as they rounded the first of the track’s four curves. Candy and her attendees maintained their pace. As they rounded the second curve, a gust of wind kicked up and blew straight into the faces of the three joggers. Fizzlepop sucked in a sharp breath when Candy Plum faltered. She could see the mouths of the other two ponies moving, cheering their friend forward.

By now, the rest of the class had finished their laps and were catching their breaths near the finish line. They took notice of the struggle happening at the halfway point on the track and joined in the cheering. Candy Plum picked up enough speed to compensate for the wind resistance and pushed forward. 

Fizzlepop took two steps toward the track, glancing at her stopwatch as the joggers moved around the third curve. “You’re almost there, Candy!” she shouted. “Keep those legs moving. Don’t give up. You can do this!” 

Candy Plum looked up at Fizzlepop as the young mare entered the final curve. She lowered her head with squeezed her eyes shut, panting and wheezing, and pushed herself from a trot into a canter. The seconds on the stopwatch ticked upward, and the ponies neared the finished line. Fizzlepop was among the students cheering their classmates onward, silently urging the younger mare to endure. 

At five seconds to Candy Plum’s previous record, she and her two escorts crossed the line.

Candy’s front legs promptly collapsed and sucked down great gulps of air, but she was quickly pulled to her hooves. The student looked up into the proud eyes of Fizzlepop.

“You did it,” the older mare said. “I knew you could.” Candy tried to speak, but Fizzlepop shook her head. “Slow, deep breaths. Keep your legs moving. Take an easy walk around the track. Otherwise, your muscles will start to stiffen.” Fizzlepop released Candy to the jubilant attentions of her classmates as they crowded around to accompany her around the track.

“Ahem.”

The voice pulled Fizzlepop from the congratulations, and she found Spike standing nearby. “Good afternoon, Spike. What can I do for you?”

“Twilight—I mean, the Headmare needs to see you,” he answered, gesturing with his thumb. “She’s in her office.”

“Oh? One moment.” Fizzlepop blew her whistle, and everyone stopped. “Students, I seem to have an impromptu meeting to attend. You’ve all done exceedingly well this week, so I’m canceling this afternoon’s team maneuvers. You’re all on break for the remainder of the class period. Dismissed.”

A lighthearted cheer rose from the ranks, and the students continued their march around the track as Fizzlepop and Spike departed the field. “That was nice of you,” Spike commented as they walked together.

“They’ve earned it. I’ve learned that not everyone responds to the kind of motivations I was used to giving out. In the past, I would have berated Candy Plum for falling behind. As much as some creatures might benefit from a more rigid application of discipline, these are students, not enlistees.” Fizzlepop smiled to herself. “It was… very gratifying to watch Candy push through what she thought were her limits. They’ve all put in such hard work improving themselves.” She glanced over her shoulder at one particular individual. “And I’m keeping my eye on that griffin, Gallus. He has the making of a fine recruit.”

“Gallus?” Spike chuckled. “No offense, but Gallus isn’t exactly the type of griffin I could see choosing to get ordered around.”

Fizzlepop arched an eyebrow. “And I suppose you knew exactly what you wanted to do with your life when you were younger?” Spike shrugged, and she continued. “Give him time. Unless all the sugary baked goods Pinkie Pie keeps bringing by have addled my senses, I think you’ll find that I have a knack for noticing the qualities that could make a good soldier.” By that time, the pair had arrived at Twilight’s office. The door was shut.

“Good luck,” Spike said. He winked and meandered off around a corner, leaving Fizzlepop to take a deep breath before knocking on the door.

“Come in,” Twilight’s voice beckoned.

Fizzlepop opened the door and strode in, shutting the door behind her. Twilight sat at her desk, but she was not alone. The rest of the alicorn’s friends all stood, sat, or hovered around the desk. Starlight Glimmer sat on the couch alone. All but one were wearing neutral expressions.

“Headmare,” Fizzlepop greeted. She nodded to the other mares in the room. “Ladies.”

“Hiya, Fizzy,” Pinkie Pie responded with her characteristic smile.

Twilight motioned to the single couch in the office. “Have a seat, Fizzlepop.” The dark purple mare did so, sitting near to Starlight.

“That’s quite a lovely uniform you have there, Fizzlepop,” Rarity remarked, taking in Fizzlepop’s pinstripe jersey. “Did you design it yourself?”

“Not quite, thank you. I took a couple of old uniforms and threw them into something I thought looked like a coach’s outfit.” Fizzlepop’s eyes swept across the gathered faculty mares. Her gaze settled on Twilight. “Did I do something wrong? This has the look of an intervention.” Her voice and ears flattened. “Or something worse.”

Twilight stood and walked around her desk. “My faculty heads and I have been discussing the changes you’ve made to the physical fitness and outdoor skills program.”

“I see.”

“I also brought in Starlight as consultation, to help us review the effects you’ve had on our students and curriculum.”

Fizzlepop glanced over at Starlight, who nodded. “I would appreciate it if you skip the drama of drawing out whatever it is that you have to say, and just be done with it. Please.”

“Very well.” Twilight nodded. “Fizzlepop Berrytwist, I have come to a decision regarding your continued employment as a temporary instructor here at the School of Friendship.”

When she heard the words that Twilight spoke next, Fizzlepop found that she could not speak.


~~*~~


“On the line, you daisies,” Silverstream cheerily commanded, standing at attention. The shrill chirp of her whistle called everyone to the center line that bisected the gymnasium. 

“It’s supposed to be ‘pansies,’ ” Gallus dejectedly corrected as the class formed up.

“Miss Berrytwist did it better,” Yona added, her own mood just as sullen.

“Is she coming back?” Ocellus wonder aloud. “It’s been two days.” 

“I miss her,” Sandbar said. Nodding heads up and down the line agreed with his sentiment.

Smolder folded her arms across her chest. “I liked her. She’s almost as tough as a dragon.”

“She didn’t go easy on us, that’s for sure” Gallus recalled, a small smile adding the dim glow of warmth to his expression. “But we can’t deny the results.”

“Yona agree. Miss Berrytwist like yaks: tough but fair.”

Silverstream abandoned her place in front of the line of students and joined the line with her friends. “Who do you think they got to replace her?”

The double door at the side entrance of the gym slammed open and in waddled a squat figure, framed from behind by sunlight. Just past the threshold, it hefted a megaphone and spoke.

“Alright, maggots!” it yelled, the amplified voice echoing off the gym walls. “Front and center.” The figure cleared its throat. “Ahem, I mean, every creature on the line.” The figure shuffled closer, ditching the megaphone. “Oh, you’re already there. Good. Class is about to begin.” As the creature approached, the students got their first good look.

“Is that a hedgehog in a jogging suit?” Silverstream asked.

“Is he the new teacher?” Ocellus wondered aloud.

“I don’t know why he’s in that getup,” Sandbar added. “Looks like the only time he’s willing to go fast is when it’s to the donut shop.”

The hedgehog stopped several paces from the line upon which the students had arrayed themselves. He pulled a small step ladder from somewhere underneath his jogging suit and clambered up to the highest step. This placed him at eye level with most of the students.

“Welcome to the first day of a new era,” he began. He raised his stubby arms and gestured grandly at the side entrance door. “Now, put your paws, claws, and hooves together for Professor Temp―I mean, Professor Berrytwist.” A series of excited grasps rose from the row of students as Fizzlepop strode into the gymnasium.  

She marched up to the line and nodded to the hedgehog. “Thank you for the introduction, Grubber.”

“I’m never going to get used to that name,” Grubber grumbled and climbed off the step ladder as the students broke rank and encircled Fizzlepop.

“‘Professor’?” Gallus asked. “Does that mean you’re going to stay as a permanent teacher?”

Fizzlepop nodded. “I am.” She looked around at the group that surrounded her and smiled. “If you’ll have me.”

“Of course!” they all shouted.

Fizzlepop chuckled to herself and breathed in a sigh of relief. Then, she tapped a hoof against her chin. “There’s just one thing wrong with this moment.” Puzzled faces looked up at her until she brought her whistle to her lips, the once plain lanyard now striped in the school colors. It trilled a shrill cry. “Dodgeball!” 

The students cheered and immediately scattered, running to acquire every red rubber ball they could find before forming up into their teams. Professor Berrytwist and Grubber backed away from the delighted skirmish, hanging around the edge of the court.

“Thanks for agreeing to be my assistant again,” Fizzlepop said above the shouts of the game. “I could really use your help now that I’m in charge of this whole program.”

“Don’t mention it,” Grubber said with a dismissive wave of his paw. His face abruptly brightened with remembrance. “Oh, and now that we’re coming clean about names, Grubber isn’t my real name.”

Fizzlepop arched an eyebrow. “Really?” She leaned down and whispered conspiratorially. “What is it?”

The hedgehog motioned for her to come closer. The mare obliged. Grubber glanced around to make sure no one else was close enough to be within earshot, licked his lips, and said, “It’s Spikeybottom Longpants.”

Fizzlepop froze. She blinked once, twice, and rose back up. Her eyebrows furrowed, and then the hedgehog burst into a fit of laughter.

“Ha! Nah, I’m just messing with you.” He waved a hand at Fizzlepop dismissively. “It’s totally Grubber.” 

The mare snorted and chuckled. “Right. Come on, Spikeybottom. Let’s go watch the fun.” Grubber saluted, and the pair marched over to the sidelines of the dodgeball game together. As they did, two mares watched from nearby.

“Looks like you made the right call, Twilight.” Starlight leaned against the doorframe that led to the caretaker’s shed and watched as the students cackled in delight, gleefully firing off volleys of rubber balls at one another. 

“It was Fizzlepop who made the right call,” Twilight offered from her position leaning against the opposite side of the doorframe. “She could have found a quiet, remote village somewhere and settled down. She could have left Equestria and avoided having to deal with her past at all. Instead, she confronted her mistakes and took steps toward finding a new path.” The alicorn studied Fizzlepop umpiring the game. The dark orchid unicorn had a focused expression on her face, but it was tempered with a lopsided grin. “Fizzy still has a ways to go and a lot to learn about friendship, but her experience with the grittier parts of life makes her the perfect choice to toughen up the students a little bit.”

“Toughen them up?” Starlight gave Twilight an appraising look. “That’s a new tune coming from you.” 

Twilight shrugged as Starlight joined her friend in watching their students play. “Whether we like to think about it or not, they’re being taught an important lesson.” Twilight perked up and turned to Starlight. “And there’s an even more important lesson to be learned.”

“Heads up!” someone shouted.

Twilight turned toward the voice. “Wh—ack!” A red rubber ball smacked into her forehead, and the alicorn dropped to the floor.

“There certainly is,” Fizzlepop’s voice agreed. She sauntered up to Starlight and helped the unicorn pull their headmare to her unsteady hooves. “We've learned that Twilight Sparkle is terrible at dodgeball.”