//------------------------------// // Family // Story: The Friendship Initiative // by Jatheus //------------------------------// Pounding, as of a massive drum, was the first thing to greet the mare and welcome her back to consciousness. Scootaloo groaned as she stirred. There was a terrible taste in her mouth, and she had no idea where she was for a moment. She tried to piece it together as she opened her eyes to unfamiliar surroundings. It was nearly as dark with her eyes open as shut, but there was a faint green glow that revealed the alcove she was within. It was not quite large enough for her to stand up, and the floor was covered with a layer of soft earthy material. The next room was much larger by comparison. Memories flooded back, and she realized that she had passed out from whatever Ash Eater’s father had given her to drink. She crawled through the opening into the next room, letting out a long yawn. Her head pounded even harder as she moved and tried to stand. She steadied herself against the table. “You’re awake,” Haltere greeted her. “Barely,” Scootaloo mumbled, grateful for the low light. “What’s wrong with her, momma?” Arista peeked at the pegasus from behind an earthen counter in what looked to be some kind of kitchen. It was rudimentary by pony standards. “You don’t look so good.” Scootaloo’s stomach churned, “I don’t feel so good.” While she didn’t think it likely for her to retch, between that feeling and the pounding in her head, she tried to stay still. As her thoughts began to clear, Scootaloo became aware that she had been sedated intentionally with the strong drink. The anger that boiled up was initially directed at herself for being so stupid, and then at Ash Eater. It only served to make the impacts of the headache beat harder. Haltere poured from a pitcher into a cup and set it on the table near the mare. “Water,” she said simply. Scootaloo moved slowly as not to exacerbate her disposition. The water was clean and fresh, but it did have a bit of a different flavor, likely thanks to mineral content of an underground spring. She drank it down in a single tilt, thirstily taking every drop. “Thanks,” she said, gasping for breath. The pegasus leaned over the table. Trying to stay still seemed the best thing to do. She was grateful that the biological urge that came next had waited for her to awaken. “Is there a restroom?” Haltere pointed to a door covered with a cloth flap, similar to the entrance of the domicile. As Scootaloo approached, she became concerned with what she might find inside. To her surprise, the lavatory was identical to what she would expect to find in Ponyville, at least so far as the facilities were concerned, plumbing and all. It seemed out of place with the rest of what she had observed to that point, and that caused her to wonder how such had come to be in Stone Hive. Her headache pushed the thought away without demanding an answer. Having completed her necessity, Scootaloo trudged back to the counter, feeling half dead and groaning against the powerful ache that assaulted her head. “Arista, would you please take our guest to the dispensary?” The little one shrank closer to her mother. Scootaloo was a little confused by the suggestion. It seemed genuinely polite in contrast to her experience thus far. Haltere looked down to her child. “You have nothing to fear. Your brother has been living with this one for months, and she hasn’t hurt him. Besides, all you have to do is call for help if she scares you.” Scootaloo felt her stomach tighten again, but it was more from again realizing how totally outnumbered and surrounded she was by former enemies. It would certainly be in her best interest to not do anything to frighten the child. Arista nodded and walked to the door, pushing through the curtain and beckoning with her lavender eyes for Scootaloo to follow. In spite of the time she had spent in the darkness of the cave, the dim luminance that adorned the earthen houses was still not nearly enough for her to walk around in the larger cavern, so Scootaloo again donned her cap and switched on the low light; it seemed much brighter. She followed the little changeling in silence for a short time, her head pounding harder with each step. “Could we slow down a little?” Scootaloo forced out through another wave of nausea. Arista stopped and spun about, waiting for the pegasus to close the distance between them. Her eyes glittered brightly in the lamp light. “Are all ponies as slow as you?” The noise of speech seemed to make the headache redouble it’s efforts to squeeze Scootaloo’s skull. It was nearly all she could do to keep moving and not vomit. “No,” she replied. “I’m usually a lot faster too.” “You don’t look so quick to me.” “I’ll race you when I’m feeling better.” “You won’t outrun me!” the little doe boasted. “I’m big and fast!” Scootaloo smiled at Arista’s attitude in spite of how much the volume of the little one’s words made additional waves of pain beat on the pegasus. “When I’m feeling better, you’re on,” she groaned. Arista grinned cherubically before spinning on her hooves and again leading the way at a more gentle pace. Scootaloo noticed that the other changelings still watched her, stopping what they were doing to pay particular interest to the strange sight of a pegasus in Stone Hive following a child. They didn’t seem menacing exactly, but they were certainly concerned. It was a modest walk before they arrived at a natural formation upon which a rudimentary wooden roof offered some protection from the rain. There were changelings seated and lying all about, and others were attending to them. Scootaloo got the distinct impression that it was a clinic, or the changeling equivalent of one. Arista guided the mare to a table that seemed to serve as a receptionist desk as naturally as if she had been there more than once. Scootaloo was surprised to see an albino doe sitting behind it, buried in a stack of papers. The somewhat frazzled changeling looked up. Her pink eyes and alabaster chitin stood out in remarkable contrast against the rest of her kind. “Name and...” she stopped short before a look of amazement relieved the stress from her expression. “You’re a pony!” Scootaloo winced at the noise. “She had too much to drink and has the drum in her head,” Arista volunteered. “Oh, right, sorry!” the doe replied softly. “I am Elytra. I just need your name and any other reason for your visit, and somepony will be with you shortly.” “Scootaloo,” she took note of the doe’s manner and words. “Whatever they gave me tasted like licorice and fire.” “Ouzo?” Elytra asked. Arista nodded before huffing, “They wouldn’t give me any.” The changeling nurse smiled. “Sure, anyway, I drank too much on an empty stomach. I’ve got the worst headache of my life and nausea,” Scootaloo felt herself heave slightly as if in response to her declaration, but nothing came up. “How long ago?” Arista tilted her head in thought, “Dinner is almost ready...” The very thought of food was totally unappealing to the pegasus. “So... almost seven hours.” “Thank you,” Elytra gestured to a vacant area nearby with a mat on the floor. “If you’ll please wait right there. Lie down if you need to.” Scootaloo shuffled the short distance and sat on the spongy mat, shutting her eyes. She expected it to be made of the same soft earthy moss that she had awakened upon, but it was covered by a clean silky blanket. Elytra’s use of the word ‘somepony’ rang in Scootaloo’s mind. It was uncommon for a changeling to use it. Perhaps she had spent some time undercover among ponies and picked that up as part of her vocabulary? Scootaloo didn’t know, and the pounding within her skull made it impossible to hold the thought for long. Even if she could have, Arista forbade it. “Is it true that ponies don’t lay eggs?” “What?” the mare had to think for a moment as she was caught off guard by the question. “No, ponies don’t lay eggs.” “That’s what my mom said. So how do you have nymphs if you don’t lay eggs?” Scootaloo opened one eye and turned to the inquisitive little changeling, whose lavender eyes squinted a little against the cap light. “Nymph?” “Ah-huh, a little one, like me that grows up.” “Oh, we call them foals.” She paused a moment before asking, “How old are you?” “I’m ten-and-a-half!” Arista proudly proclaimed. “Yeah... I’ll tell you when you’re older.” “My mom said that too!” Scootaloo couldn’t help but smile at the child’s frustration. Not exactly sure how to proceed, she decided that asking a question would move the conversation in a direction she could better control. “Well, how do your people have foals, I mean nymphs, with eggs?” “You don’t know?” Arista seemed amazed, taking a step closer. Scootaloo smiled again, “I never got around to asking anyp- anyone.” “Momma told me all about it. You need a mommy and a daddy, and they love each other very much. Then the daddy gives the mommy a seed, and she puts it in the egg. When she’s ready she lays the egg, but the nymph doesn’t come yet.” Arista stood a little straighter, her head held high as though she were imitating a teacher, “The momma has to stay with the egg to make sure it is doesn’t get too hot or cold and that nothing bad happens to it. The daddy brings food and water and anything else the momma needs. Then, when it is ready, the egg hatches, and the nymph comes out and is greeted by the queen.” “The Queen?” “Ah-huh! The Queen always welcomes new nymphs. So, how does it work for ponies without an egg?” Though she wasn’t bothered by biology, this would be Scootaloo’s first time to have explained such to a child. She was somewhat amazed that the description that Arista had given was almost generic enough to be an explanation a filly would have given on the topic. “Well,” she began, “it’s actually very much the same with ponies. But our eggs are very small, and our princesses don’t usually greet all of the new fillies.” “So you do have eggs?” “Sort of. Like I said, they are really small.” “How small?” Scootaloo thought for a moment and then decided to try a metaphor, “Have you ever looked at a single grain of sand?” “Ah-huh! We had a home in the desert before.” Scootaloo nodded, “Okay, what about dust?” “Yeah, it’s even smaller than sand.” “Well, ponies’ eggs are even smaller than dust. That’s why I said we don’t lay eggs.” Arista’s eyes went wide, “That small?” “Absolutely, but that’s really the only difference. Just like what you said before, about a mommy and a daddy, and they love each other, all of it. But the mommy carries the foal inside until it is ready to come out.” “The whole time?” “The whole time,” Scootaloo stifled a giggle that made her head pound. The few minutes that Scootaloo was interrogated by the little one were most unpleasant, though it was not the fault of her company. The wonder on the doe nymph’s face had only helped to distract the pegasus, not to mention give her something new to think about. It was truly amazing that she seemed not unlike a little filly: curious about the world, all its complexity, and her place in it. The distinctive sound of hooves against stone resounded within Scootaloo’s skull, making her wince again as she turned to face a blue pegasus approaching, her orange mane hanging loosely about her face. Scootaloo was so taken off guard that she simply stared for a moment as the newcomer approached. “Scootaloo?” the mare asked. She seemed exhausted, but somehow still exuded a professional disposition nonetheless. Scootaloo nodded. “I am Doctor Skyberry. They tell me you have a headache and nausea.” “That’s right.” “Does this hurt?” she asked before clapping her front two hooves together once. Scootaloo shrank back as the pressure wave resounded inside her head, groaning in reply. “That’s what I thought. You drank too much while slightly dehydrated. You don’t need a doctor so much as a bit of common sense. I can give you a pain reliever, but have a snack, drink some water and sleep it off. You’ll be fine.” “I already had some water,” Scootaloo growled. “And I’m going to have dinner soon.” Arista took a step backward, her eyes widening at the display. “Save your posturing,” Skyberry said. “I’m a doctor, not a pugilist.” Looking to Arista, she smiled, “Hi, sweetie. Are you with her?” Arista nodded, “What’s a pew… a pew…?” “Pugilist, like a hoof-fighter, a brawler,” the doctor explained. “How’s your father doing?” “He’s fine now,” the nymph grinned back at the doctor. Returning her attention to Scootaloo, the blue pegasus added, “Meet me back at the desk and I’ll get your medicine.” Skyberry turned to walk away. “Gee, thanks.” Stopping, the doctor spoke over her shoulder, “Okay, one placebo, coming right up.” Scootaloo didn’t like the way her golden irises twinkled when she mentioned switching out her headache medicine with fake pills. She struggled to stand without making herself feel worse, an effort which proved futile. The cool air in the cavern seemed much colder now that the mare was thoroughly soaked again. Skyberry and Elytra were at the desk, with a small envelope and a cup by the time the other two arrived. “Go ahead and take that and then drink all of this,” Elytra said. Scootaloo opened the envelope and looked at the contents before dumping them into her mouth. The water they gave her was fresh but had the same mineral taste as what Haltere given her before. “That should make it more bearable,” the albino changeling continued. “Just remember to drink plenty of water and get something to eat as soon as you can.” “Thanks,” Scootaloo mumbled. As she turned to walk away, the two behind the desk started talking. “Sky! I just remembered, Songbird Serenade is going on tour and coming to Canterlot. We should totally get tickets!” “You really like her don’t you?” Elytra grinned sheepishly, “She just has a really great voice!” “I don’t think we’ll make it. You know how busy we are down here.” Elytra’s shoulders slumped a little bit. Skyberry grinned and placed two tickets on the table. “Are these?” The changeling nurse’s eyes went wide, “They are!” “I got the tickets a week ago and was waiting to surprise you,” Skyberry winked. Elytra sprang from her seat and threw her forelegs around the blue pegasus’ neck, “You’re the best, Sky!” Scootaloo couldn’t help but stop to observe what was unfolding and felt her mouth hanging open in surprise at the interaction between the two. While she wanted to feel skeptical of this albino changeling named Elytra, she seemed to genuinely like Skyberry. It also appeared to be mutual. The pegasus gently pushed her friend away, “Easy there, I need to breathe.” Turning to Scootaloo she asked, “Are you trying to catch bugs, or do you want me to feed you more pain meds?” Scootaloo shook her head only to be rewarded by the headache spiking for a second, “No, sorry, I’m just curious. How did you two meet?” Elytra seemed to shrink a little, “I was in prison after the war.” Scootaloo hadn’t noticed Elytra’s red dog tags until then, probably because of her headache. “We’re part of Princess Twilight Sparkle’s Friendship Initiative,” Skyberry added. “You know we’ve met before, right?” Scootaloo made a half-smile, “To be honest, I’ve met so many ponies and changelings that it’s all kind of blending together.” “I don’t doubt that,” Skyberry nodded. “So, you two seem to be getting along,” Scootaloo probed without being too nosy. “Oh, Skyberry is the best,” Elytra seemed to light up a little. “I was pretty scared that I’d end up with some psychopath that would murder me in my sleep. I never really saw any fighting in the war; I’m just a nurse, and sometimes I would turn into a crow and fly around and see things, but actually in battles? Oh no, not me.” “She talks a lot when she’s nervous,” Skyberry winked. “Oh, yeah, haha, I guess I do.” “Well, since she was a nurse and I’m a doctor, they thought we’d be a good fit,” Skyberry picked up the story. “Like Elytra here, I didn’t see any fighting either. Well, I mean I didn’t do any fighting. I think we all got closer to the front than we wanted to at least once.” “I know what you mean,” Scootaloo felt her brow furrow as she remembered digging trenches to have something between her army and the enemy. “Anyway, not long after we were together, she let me know that there was a need for doctors and nurses down here since most of theirs were killed in the war. So I volunteered to come down and that’s been… how long would you say?” “Six months,” Elytra added. “That’s right,” Skyberry nodded. “You kind of lose track of time when you don’t see the sun. But as strange as it may seem, it turned out we have a lot in common. I never would have expected to actually make a friend with a changeling.” Elytra giggled, “I know what you mean!” Scootaloo couldn’t help but smile, “Thanks.” It warmed her within to see that it was possible for friendships to form. Even though she had failed with Ash Eater, maybe all was not lost. Arista was waiting impatiently at the bottom of the stone formation. “What took you so long!” she whined as her stomach began to grumble. “Sorry about that,” Scootaloo ventured, “I wanted to ask the doctor something. Did you know that she is friends with that nurse?” “I guess so,” the little one seemed to be thinking as they walked. “I don’t really know them that well. My dad had sprained an ankle a month ago, so we had to come and see the doctor.” They walked through the rain in silence for most of the way back. By the time they turned off of the path, the harshness was just easing from Scootaloo’s headache. Arista turned suddenly and motioned for the pegasus to stop and be silent. As Scootaloo listened, she could hear voices within the hardened mud house. “You need to apologize to that pony,” Haltere said. Her mate scoffed, “For what? I didn’t make her drink too much. “Soot Nosher, you know full well that she felt pressured by you. Using her own politeness and etiquette that way was a despicable thing to do.” “You have to admit, it was kind of funny.” “I’m not laughing,” the matriarch’s tone seemed colder. “Look, she’s just a pony. And it’s not like I hurt her.” There was silence for a moment. Arista grinned mischievously. Haltere broke the quiet, “Six weeks.” Soot Nosher gasped, apparently unable to make a reply. “You apologize,” the doe continued, “or you’re looking at six weeks, minimum.” “Minimum?” he asked in shock. “You heard me,” Haltere‘s resolve was evident in her tone. Soot Nosher began grumbling something inaudible. Scootaloo looked down to her little companion, quite confused as to the exchange that had just happened only for Arista to grab her foreleg and pull her into the house. “We’re back!” she announced boldly as they pushed through the flap. “What are you talking about?” The adults didn’t answer as they separated from each other. “What'd you say?” Her mother answered, “Nothing... go play.” “What'd she say?” the little one turned to her father. “Mind your mother!” he said as he brushed by them, heading briskly outside. Arista gave Scootaloo sponges and the pair began drying themselves. As Haltere went back to working in the kitchen, Scootaloo looked to Arista, confusion written on her own face. “Six weeks?” the pegasus asked quietly. The nymph leaned close and whispered, “She meant social calls.” Scootaloo’s lack of understanding must have remained clear as the little one went back to drying herself. “You know...” Arista whispered while making a face, her brow sort of raising just a little as she nodded at her mother. It was enough for the full meaning of what had been implied to come across to the pegasus. She was caught somewhere between amusement at the marital battle taking place and mortification that the nymph had also understood perfectly what was discussed. And to think, she’d been concerned about talking the little one how foals come into the world. “Welcome back,” Haltere saluted the newcomers. Arista gave Scootaloo an extra sponge to help her dry off. It seemed that four did a passable job, but she wished she had thought to bring a towel. “Dinner is almost ready if you want to have a seat at the table.” “Ah-huh!” Haltere stopped what she was doing, but didn’t even turn around before Arista corrected herself. “Yes, ma’am!” The matriarch continued her efforts as Scootaloo offered her own response, “Thank you.” As Scootaloo sat, Arista went to the kitchen area and began bringing cups and square flat clay plates. They looked to all have been hoof-made. Similar as they all were to each other, there was some imperfect variations visible under her lamp. Realizing she might unduly blind the others, she switched off the light and stowed it in her bag. Arista brought a pitcher of water, which Scootaloo drank down unabashedly. She was glad that the medicine was beginning to take effect. She made up her mind that if they offered her any more of that ouzo, she would take just one out of courtesy and no more. Truly, even the thought of one made her queasy again. The nymph seemed to be staring at the pegasus from the kitchen. Scootaloo would have to remember to make good on her promise to race the little one when she had a chance. ... Ash Eater sat listening to the fat drops of condensation that rained down from the cavernous ceiling high above. Their pattern was soothing, almost like a calm melody. While it was not nearly enough to placate the stag, his rage had reduced itself to a low simmer. The buzzing of wings grew louder on the air. The stag didn’t look up, he knew it was his father. Hooves clicking against stone preceded the silence of the wings. Prepared to defend himself, Ash Eater considered some verbal counters to the undesired advice that was likely coming. The rain was the only sound as Soot Nosher sat down beside his son. Ash Eater considered a few more things to say if words became heated in the quiet, but no attack came. “Well, you found me,” Ash Eater opened the dialogue. His father took a deep breath, “Dinner is ready, if you’re hungry.” Indeed he was. Ash Eater had been so angry when he had stormed off before that he had missed lunch. It had taken so long to calm down that he really didn’t think to do anything other than sit there. Fortunately for him, he had used the restroom before he had ventured into the cave. That biological necessity would soon be catching up with him as well. He stood and stretched, his missing hind leg sending a twinge of phantom pain. He grunted it off and waited for his father to stand and lead the way home. It would be nice to have a meal and get out of the constant precipitation. The younger stag expected the elder to begin a lecture of one kind or another, but he remained silent. Rather than comforting, it was an indication that treading lightly was the best course of action. They arrived back to the house and dried themselves. Scootaloo, awake and already seated at the table, nodded a silent greeting at the returning pair. She looked to still be feeling the lingering ill effects of her asinine overindulgence. Ash Eater grinned at her, a gesture she did not return. He sat across from Scootaloo, expecting his parents would sit on either end like they always did. “Ashy!” Arista squealed before rocketing across the room and embracing him. “Hey,” he returned the greeting by jabbing into her side to tickle the nymph. She giggled and backed away, settling down beside him. “Soot, is it your intention to allow nymphs to run around the house?” Haltere asked as she brought a large but low-sided bowl to the table. Soot Nosher looked over from the door and fumbled, “Uh... Arista! No running...” he sighed. “You’re on cleanup detail after dinner as penance.” Arista pouted before grabbing Ash Eater’s foreleg and looking up at him, “Will you help me with cleanup? Please!” He smiled at her and nodded, much to Arista’s delight. The large dish seemed scarcely enough food for five to dine on, but it would do. Ash Eater was surprised when his mother returned with a smaller offering of hay. “I didn’t know if you liked mushrooms and moss,” she spoke to Scootaloo, “so I picked up some hay while we were out earlier. I wasn’t sure how to prepare it.” It didn’t take the pegasus long to realize that the accommodation was for her specifically, “Oh, thank you! That’s great like it is.” They changelings all stood, catching the mare off guard, but she quickly followed suit. “Gratitude and honor,” Soot Nosher spoke, “Glory to our queen.” “Thanks for another day of peace,” Haltere added. “Honor for the brave warriors that defend the hive,” Ash Eater said. Arista squeezed her brother’s foreleg again, “Joy for family!” The others all looked to Scootaloo, who seemed a little unsure of what to do, but she finally managed, “Thank you for your hospitality.” They all sat and began to eat without further ceremony. Ash Eater’s mouth watered as he took a portion of the main dish and indulged in a savory mouthful. The fresh cracked pepper danced across three kinds of mushrooms to create true bliss. “I take it you don’t have that tradition before meals,” Haltere directed her observation to Scootaloo. “Not really, at least, not in my family. I have seen similar customs before...” she stopped short as though she had intended to say more and then thought better of it. She quickly added, “My family wasn’t very close.” “I’m sorry to hear that.” Ash Eater snorted to scoff at the pegasus, but he ended up drawing a glare from his mother. He tried to focus on his food. Arista had built a small pyramid with her mushrooms. “Arista, please don’t play with your food,” her mother gently scolded. “That’s pretty good though,” Ash Eater admired the structure. The nymph grinned at him. It always warmed him within to see her smile. She hastily began eating to comply with her mother’s request. “I couldn’t help but notice that your names seem unique for changelings,” Scootaloo nodded at the stags. “Were you trying to be different, or is it for a reason?” Ash Eater felt his father bristle perhaps even more than he did himself. “The male members of my line, since my grandfather, have born his dishonor,” Soot Nosher answered. Scootaloo’s eyes went wide, “Oh... I wouldn’t... I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject.” “Pay it no mind; I have lived with it for my entire life, as did my father before me, and as will my sons after me to the fifth generation from the dishonor.” “Fifth? Oh wow, I’m so sorry to hear that.” “We don’t need your pity!” Ash Eater tried to control the snarl, but it came out combatively. “I just mean, well,” Scootaloo fumbled, “It’s just... Ponies have no custom for that. The concept of a child bearing an insult like that doesn’t really happen.” “Not at all?” Arista seemed fascinated by the notion. “No, we more have to live with our own merits or failures.” Ash Eater was prepared to fire back, but Haltere spoke first. “It is not so different for us if you think about it. It is simply more formal.” Soot Nosher snorted, “That’s easy to say unless you bear the dishonor. It is difficult to get a decent doe to so much as speak to you once she knows your name.” Haltere pursed her lips at her mate. His eyes grew larger as he realized what he had just implied. “Of course, I got lucky in the end,” he mumbled to salvage the error. Ash Eater giggled at the folly, but Arista was glancing back and forth, trying to understand what had just transpired. Scootaloo seemed to be calming down. The younger stag would have to do something about that. “You never struck me as a lightweight,” he addressed the pegasus loudly. “I thought it would have taken more than that to drink you under the table.” She winced a little at his volume. “How’s your head?” Haltere smirked at Soot Nosher, who cleared his throat, “Stalwart friend of the hive, I apologize for giving you too much to drink earlier. It won’t happen again.” “I’ll live,” Scootaloo replied, “That pegasus down at the dispensary gave me some medicine.” “Pegasus?” Ash Eater felt alerted to something he needed to know. “She is blue, and they call her Sky,” Arista piped up. “She has a changeling friend, just like you two!” “We are, not, friends!” Ash Eater corrected, highly agitated at the statement. Scootaloo seemed totally unmoved by the declaration. “Oh, well, I could be her friend,” Arista cheerfully added, “She’s going to race me when she feels better.” Ash Eater couldn’t believe what his sister had just said but was so flummoxed by it that he could only manage to reply with, “What?” “When I took her to the dispensary before, she walked so slow, and I asked if all ponies were that slow, and she said that she’s faster, and so she will race me when she’s feeling better, but I’m going to win.” “You took her to the dispensary?” “Ah-huh! All by myself!” the nymph beamed. Ash Eater felt an instant anger boil up, but he wasn’t quite sure where to direct it initially. He glared at his mother, “How could you send Arista alone with, with that?” “Mind your tone, son,” Soot Nosher warned. “Don’t be mad, Ashy, I’m okay,” Arista pleaded. “Do you have any idea how many of us she has killed?” the younger stag’s words came hot and fast. “How could you ever trust someone like that?” “I could ask you the same,” Scootaloo interjected. “Don’t make me laugh!” “You hunted down my friends,” the pegasus glowered, “tortured and killed them not because it was war, but because you wanted them dead!” “You and your friends crippled me!” “We were fighting for our lives!” “You broke my horn!” “To get out of an ambush you led us into!” Ash Eater slammed his fore-hooves against the table. “Enough, enough!” Haltere shouted. “The war is over! It doesn’t matter any more who tried to kill whom!” “So, you also would keep me from revenge that is rightfully mine?” Ash Eater stood, banging the table for emphasis, “She was there when my horn was broken! She took my leg!” Soot Nosher growled, “Stop arguing with your mother!” “Then thank the queen you were blessed with four!” Haltere shot back. “So, that’s that?” Ash Eater continued the attack, “You will sit by and let your son be wounded, crippled and do nothing? You will sit with an enemy at your table?” “I am not your enemy!” Scootaloo lashed back. “Yes you are!” Ash Eater let the rage flow and swept up his plate, launching it at Scootaloo’s head. At that range, she didn’t have time to react, but his aim was off, and the hard clay projectile whizzed past the mare’s head, shattering against the wall. Scootaloo instinctively ducked too late, her eyes glaring fiercely at the stag. Quiet overtook the house for a moment. Arista was silently shaking. “Get, out,” Soot Nosher seethed. “Come back when you have gained control of yourself.” Tension filled the silence for a moment as Ash Eater’s anger waxed hotter still. “I won’t need to come back. You’ve lost your spine!” the younger stag turned and stomped to the door, adding, “and your friends deserved to die. I’d kill them all again if I could!” Hooves shuffled. He heard her coming up behind him. Ash Eater had already put up with far more of Scootaloo than he cared to for one lifetime. He spun, throwing a solid right hook. She didn’t have time to dodge, and the satisfying sound of the impact rang in Ash Eater’s ears until he realized that Scootaloo was still near the table. Looking at the heap on the floor, knocked down by his blow, Ash Eater felt his heart break. Arista began crying loudly. The stag moved to pick her up, to offer comfort, but she skittered backward, recoiling away. Then, the pegasus was there. “Back off or I will put you down myself!” Scootaloo roared. “You... this...” was all he managed to say before she slammed a hoof into his face, splitting his lip. She pressed forward as he staggered backward, the pair exchanging blows. They became tangled in the cloth that covered the door and ripped it down. Scootaloo got the stag onto his back and leaned into his face. “What is wrong with you! Your family loves you, and you’re treating them like trash!” Ash Eater’s mind was racing as he gained leverage with his hind leg, flipping the two over. They wrestled against the stone ground, and he gained the advantage. She resisted until his teeth clamped down on her ear, drawing a shriek of pain and causing her to stumble into a more manageable position. “This is your fault!” he spat the taste of blood in her face. Were he being honest, he wasn’t sure if he believed his own words. It was clear that Scootaloo hadn’t attacked him for the insults he’d volleyed her way; she had made her stand in defense of Arista. What was she doing, defending a changeling nymph? Why? Soot Nosher interrupted the thoughts in progress by vaulting through the door and colliding with his son, who was knocked off of Scootaloo and sent sprawling. “The only one at fault here is you! Everyone one else has been nothing but kind!” Soot Nosher shouted. “Even that anathema, that pony has been better behaved than you!” Ash Eater scrambled to his hooves, backing away. His rage kept his body tense and ready to attack while prepared a verbal rebuttal. It was then he saw the look on Arista’s face. That unbridled fear for him, of him... it was more than he could bear. He had caused it, himself. His emotional state was in complete turmoil at what had just happened. He didn’t know which was up or down anymore. The stag was supposed to protect his family. He should be the one to keep his sister safe and make her happy. How had he become the one that hurt, that terrified his own sister? As cold rain fell from the cavern ceiling and hot tears burned his cheeks, Ash Eater turned and fled.