The slam of the stamp startled Bloodhound, even though she knew it was coming.
The scrawny, pear green earth pony mare had dressed her best for the occasion. She wore a nice, black turtleneck sweater, and a couple of gold bangles in her floofy, cherry-red mane. She'd thought of trying to get new glasses as well, but couldn't afford any. Her little yellow pair would have to do, she'd thought to herself that morning.
But it was all for naught, and the sting of disappointment couldn't possibly hurt more.
The mare at the Canterlot Guard Recruitment Center pushed Bloodhound's application across the desk towards her. She knew the big red REJECTED on it was coming before she saw it. The ink in the two stamps had slightly different scents.
"My apologies, Miss," the recruiter said. "Your abilities and your letter of recommendation are… interesting, but I don't believe you fit a position in the guard. You scored extremely poorly on the physical tests. Even if you didn't, your frail countenance and asthma make you ineligible. I'm afraid my hooves are tied."
"Thank you, Madam. I understand." Bloodhound said with a smile. It wasn't a very convincing one. What am I going to do? Mother will mount my cutie mark on the wall when she hears about this!
The recruiter glanced back and forth, to make sure no one was listening, then whispered. "Look, I know Fireball did a lot to even get you this interview. But she will put me through absolute Tartarus if I make her daughter cry. It's nothing against you. I promise."
So that's why she's been unusually nice. "Don't worry about me. I understand. It's a little like grave spiders putting away one of their sick or injured."
The recruiter blinked. "Grave what now?"
"Grave spiders," Bloodhound explained. "They're called that because they like to swarm all over large prey, dragging them into gravelike burrows. Grave spiders will normally accept surviving members of rival colonies they destroy, but they'll leave behind any that are sick or injured, to avoid spreading any illnesses in their own colony."
The recruiter could only stare. "Riiiiiight… Anyway, have a good day, Miss Bloodhound."
Bloodhound shook her hoof and left the recruiting office. Her head hung low, and her shoulders slumped as she attempted to hail a carriage. Could be worse, I suppose. At least it was mostly for medical reasons. Though I doubt Mother will see it that way.
A carriage sped by, splashing her with water from a puddle left behind by the morning rain, and shaking her out of her thoughts.
Bloodhound glared after it. The stink of alcohol bit her nose in the stallion driver's wake. But her anger at his drinking on the job quickly faded, replaced by sadness. "Just another addition to a very disappointing day…" she muttered to herself.
Fortunately, the next carriage passing by took pity on her and stopped. She nodded thanks to the mare driving as she climbed in, using the front of her sweater to dry herself off.
An older mare was also inside. Judging by her fancy clothes and the strong smell of her perfume, she was of the upper class. "Poor dear. Did you get rained on?"
Bloodhound didn't really want to talk, so she settled for a simple, "Yes, madam. Sorry if I'm dripping a little too much."
"Perfectly fine, darling," the older mare assured.
To avoid further conversation, Bloodhound picked up a newspaper that was conveniently next to her, and pretended to read it.
"Such a horrible story in the papers today," the older mare said with a sigh. "So sad to see Mrs. Press so led astray. Horrible. Things like that shouldn't happen in Equestria. At least she's no longer of the nobility after such poor behavior, don't you think?"
Bloodhound forced a polite smile. "I'm afraid I can't say. I don't follow politics."
The older mare seemed genuinely offended by that, and didn't say another word to Bloodhound for the rest of the ride. She did however mutter several impolite things under her breath that she probably meant for her to hear.
Bloodhound's time around her was thankfully short. She emerged in Canterlot's main street. This was probably her favorite part of the city; there was such a large variety of businesses and ponies. There were restaurants, boutiques, a library, and it had the biggest park, which was perfect for her hobbies. But the mix of smells was always her favorite thing about it. The smell of baked goods mixed with flowers and the occasional smoke from grills.
Unfortunately, then she trotted onto the Noble District.
There were only twenty or so houses in the entire district, and calling them houses was somewhat of an understatement. They were mansions, almost tall enough to be seen from other cities, along with the castle. It had always felt eerily quiet to Bloodhound. No pets that made noise were allowed, so only the chirp of wild birds punctuated her walk home.
Last chance to turn back. I could flee to another city, maybe become a beggar or a hermit. I wouldn't survive long, but it would be a kinder fate than what Mother will have for me.
But her hooves stubbornly refused to stop and turn around, no matter how hard she willed them to. Maybe I could go to Donut Joe's? Get a bunch of donuts for the Fire Nation. I should get them fresh, even though it might take a few hours.
Her hooves refused to listen to reason, and she soon found herself unlocking the front door of one of the monolithic homes.
Before she could turn the knob, however, the door opened, and Bloodhound found herself looking up at a much bulkier mare. Her mother had her green mane and tail cut in the short, neat style of the military. Her coat was a slightly darker red than Bloodhound's mane. She also had the advantage of having a horn. Overall, it was actually a little hard to see the resemblance between the two.
She already knew about the rejection. Bloodhound could tell. She'd heard that other parents sometimes said they weren't angry, just disappointed. But the great Fireball Whiskey was never one or the other. She was always both.
After a few beats of letting Bloodhound suffer in awkward silence, her mother stepped aside. "Inside. On the couch."
Bloodhound meekly obeyed.
The living room doubled as the family trophy room. There were lots of military medals and photos from famous events from Bloodhound's mother and stepmother, but Bloodhound's only real contributions to the walls were her high school diploma and her Master's degree.
Fireball paced back and forth in front of where her daughter sat on the couch. That was somewhat of a good sign. Bloodhound knew her well enough to know she only moved around like this when she was at least trying not to be angry. "Tell me what happened. From the beginning." It was voiced as an order, not a request.
"Well, I arrived at the recruitment center earlier this morning," Bloodhound recalled. "They did a basic health checkup and I attempted to complete the obstacle course for the physical exam. After the recruiter resuscitated me, they wanted me to just go home, but I insisted on at least being able to complete the academic exam."
Fireball put a hoof to her face. Her eye twitched in irritation. The scent of alcohol on her was fairly stale and faint. Bloodhound wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. "Did you apply for any other jobs there, other than just joining the Guard proper?"
Bloodhound flinched. "Well… no. You gave me a letter a recommendation for the recruiting office, so I thought—"
Fireball held up a hoof to cut her off. "Houndsy, you might be the dumbest smart pony I have ever met. Let me get this through your skull: You! Have! To! Get! A! Job!" With each word, she tapped Bloodhound on the head. It didn't hurt. Not physically, at least. "You're twenty-four! You can't keep staying here and playing with bugs!"
"I have my work for the hospital…" Bloodhound defended weakly, straightening her glasses to avoid meeting her mother's eyes.
"Yes, volunteering is great! We're very proud of you for that! But it doesn't count! You need to start making something of your life!" Fireball was barely avoiding working herself into a lather. Bloodhound could see the muscles in her neck straining. "Admit it; you did that on purpose just so you wouldn't have to face any kind of actual challenge!"
"Now now. Enough of that."
Bloodhound couldn't help but feel relief as her stepmother pranced down the stairs. Bamboo Sprout was a different kind of mare to both her wife and stepdaughter. She was extremely pretty, with a pale blue coat, a long, thick, dark-green mane laced with a white stripe, and exotic-looking eyes that sparkled with merry mischief.
She approached the two of them, kissing Fireball on the cheek. "You need to calm down. I'll handle Houndsy."
Fireball relaxed just a little. "Fine. I'll be back later, and we can talk about what to do next. I need a drink to clear my head."
Fireball left and Sprout sat down next to Bloodhound, wrapping a comforting hoof around her. Bloodhound looked down at her hooves, trying not to tear up. "You heard all that?"
Sprout nodded. "Is she right? Did you make the mistake of only applying to be a guard on purpose?"
Bloodhound flinched. She hesitated for a moment, but shrugged helplessly. "I... I don't even know..."
Sprout hugged her, running a hoof through Bloodhound's fluffy, curly mane. "Your mother is right, sweetheart. You need to get some ambition."
Bloodhound buried her face in her hooves. "I know, Mum! I just… can't handle most work. Even when it's something I can handle physically, I can't handle it mentally. I break down, and end up sabotaging myself…"
Sprout stroked her mane and shushed her softly. "I understand. But you can't just say it's a problem if you don't try to fix it. What's that phrase Fiery loves so much?"
Bloodhound sniffled a little. "Yelling that the ship is sinking doesn't help patch the hull."
"That's right. Couldn't you do a job you really enjoy, like something with your bugs?"
"I'd love to," Bloodhound replied, a trace of bitterness in her voice. "But I'm not sturdy or healthy enough to search for rare insects in far-off places, and I'm too… weird for a professorship role. Remember what happened last time, at Insect Meet and Greet?"
Sprout hmm'd. "One would think that entomology students would be able to handle some strange bug facts without getting PTSD."
"Right!? That's what I said!"
"I'll tell you what," Sprout said thoughtfully. "I'll give you a nice, simple, one-night job. Just something to help you learn not to fret so much when you work, learn some important skills, and meet a few contacts. How does that sound?"
"I… suppose it would be nice," Bloodhound said with a small, hesitant smile.
"Perfect! I'll be hosting a small party for a few old friends and neighbors in a few days. We're gathering to plan our donations to a new charity. How would you like to be our waitress for the evening?"
"Aren't I too clumsy for that?" Bloodhound worried.
"Perhaps." Sprout grinned and nudged her playfully. "I suppose that just means I'll have to train you! My mother did the same for me when I was your age. It'll be fun!"
For the first time in the day, Bloodhound started to feel just a little bit of hope shine through her clouded, stormy mind. "That sounds lovely!"
Sprout gave her a wink and a kiss on the forehead. "That's for later though. For now, how about you help me out in the garden? I spotted an anthill out there earlier."
They made their way out to the backyard. There, Sprout had her garden set up. It was mostly filled with fruit and vegetables, though Sprout had planted a few fragrant flowers for Bloodhound's sake.
"I just got our first crop of sun peppers in!" Sprout said excitedly, putting on a wide-brimmed sun hat and passing another to Bloodhound. "Maybe we'll make something good and spicy for dinner one of these days!"
They set to work. Bloodhound was careful to make sure they didn't accidentally collapse any of the tunnels from the nearby anthill.
The work was mostly done in companionable silence, until Sprout broke it. "Hey, Houndsy? I've been meaning to ask you something."
Bloodhound looked at her in surprise. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing!" Sprout assured. "It's just… I've been thinking. I love you as my own, but when you were younger I was never able to adopt you because of your father. Then after that, Fireball didn't want me doing it so you could learn your own way in the world. But now you're a grown mare, and I can't think of anypony else I'd rather have inherit my family name. What do you think?"
Some of her boiling, melted heart made it into Bloodhound's cheeks, causing her to blush. "I… I would be honored. But what would that mean?"
"Well, not much would change. We'd be officially family. You could change your name if you want. The biggest change would be that you'd be my official heir, and you'd get all my holdings. At least, once the adoption goes through you will. I'd have to send out for the paperwork, and schedule an appointment to have it notarized. That will likely take at least a month or two."
Bloodhound nodded understandingly. She hesitated, then gave Sprout a jumping hug. A normal-sized pony would have bowled their target over, but Bloodhound was excessively scrawny.
Sprout grinned. "My my! A voluntary hug from Houndsy! That's a rarity indeed!"
Bloodhound chuckled. "Hush."
"Love you too," Sprout teased.
The discussion bolstered Bloodhound's spirits greatly. They spent several hours out in the garden, laughing and talking as they worked. When they were done and washed up, the real work started. Bloodhound was subjected to lessons in balance while carrying plates and platters, etiquette towards the ponies she'd be waiting on, and the differences between the various wine types in their cellar. That, thanks to her keen nose, Bloodhound actually turned out to be rather good at.
All in all, she went up to her room feeling a little more confident in herself. But her work wasn't done yet.
The place was full of various live insect enclosures, various bags of food and other necessities for them, and various bug-themed motivational posters. Her desk was covered in notes and journals on her observations and the habits of her pets and guests.
The first thing she did was feed the Fire Nation. The denizens of her little fire ant farm were all extremely happy to see her. "Sorry Momma's late, sweeties. She had a hard day."
Next was some slightly more dangerous, yet also more fulfilling work than the waiter training; her volunteer work providing ingredients for antivenom to the local hospital. "Ready for your milking, Rudy?"
The scorpider tittered tiredly in his glass tank. He technically wasn't an insect, but an arachnid. He was around the size of a small dog, with long, spindly brown legs, a long stinger tail, and eight beady, kinda cute little eyes. He was also the laziest of Bloodhound's bunch, as evidenced by him stubbornly staying splayed out on his resting rock.
"Awww, come on. Don't be like that. Think of how many ponies your antivenom will help save!" Bloodhound couldn't talk to insects, but she was familiar enough with their body languages to know how they felt. Rudy was a recent adopt from a medical lab that had milked his venom far too often. Sure, scorpiders were dangerous, venomous, and maybe a little overly territorial, but that didn't mean they shouldn't be treated properly.
Rudy reluctantly allowed the venom glands in his fangs and stinger to be milked. Bloodhound was sure to be nice and gentle with him, and gave him a nice belly rub and a treat for his troubles. The scorpider purred affectionately as he was put back in his tank, before curling up for a nap.
Sleep was something Bloodhound desperately needed too. She placed the vial of venom in a mini fridge next to her desk, and scooped up the Fire Nation's box, hugging it like a teddy bear. "Momma has some exciting news!" she said to them with a yawn as she climbed into bed. "She might be getting her first real successful job! It's not much, and it's only for one night, but it's something!"
Ants couldn't cheer or congratulate her, but as she drifted off to sleep, Bloodhound liked to think they would have if they could.
The next few days went by very quickly. Bloodhound trained as constantly as she could manage. The hardest thing was learning how to walk in the dress she was supposed to wear, a rather simple, but nice yellow one that Sprout had brought home with a flourish and given to her as a gift. Bloodhound constantly tripped in it, but wore it nonetheless.
Fireball wasn't home much. When she was, she would be sullen and quiet, giving Bloodhound the occasional stern look as she drank. But that wasn't anything unusual.
The day of the party, Sprout helped Bloodhound get ready in front of a large, full-body mirror in her parents' bedroom. "Stay calm," Sprout soothed. "All you have to do is set the table, and wait nearby to fulfill any requests the guests have. Mostly it'll be for drinks or food. It's already cooked."
Bloodhound's asthma was acting up due to fear and stress. She had to take a puff from her little, red inhaler. "Are they hard to deal with? Should I expect them to be hostile?"
Sprout frowned at her. "Houndsy, you know I won't let anypony be mean to you. But you can do this. It'll help build your confidence."
She reluctantly nodded. "I guess…"
Sprout's grin turned sharklike. "You know… I could give you a makeover while I have you here…"
"Please don't!" Bloodhound groaned. "That eyeshadow always stings my eyes. Besides, the guests will be here soon, won't they?"
Her words were proven true by the doorbell ringing. Sprout smirked at her playfully. "You've escaped my clutches this time, Houndsy."
Bloodhound took a deep, steadying breath before she went downstairs to answer the door. "Hello. Welcome to—"
"Bambiiiii!"
Bloodhound was suddenly tackled to the ground and assaulted with snuggles. She tried to escape, but the grip was so iron that it made it hard to breathe, let alone move. So this is how I go out, choking for breath and smothered by love.
The hug suddenly loosened after about a minute. "You're not Bambi."
Bloodhound took several deep, grateful gasps of air before she replied. "No madam. She's upstairs."
Her attacker was a sleek, orange pegasus mare. Her dark-purple mane was windblown, but in an elegant way. She wore purple eyeshadow to match it. A slight sniff revealed a unique mix of perfume and wing wax.
The mare gave her a strange look. "Bambiiiii! Your maid is sniffing me and staring at me!"
That shook Bloodhound out of her thoughts as her mother came downstairs. "Aphrodite! Sorry it took me a moment to get downstairs. Bloodhound here is my daughter, not my maid." Her greeting was pleasant, but the latter half of the sentence had an edge of warning to it.
Aphrodite blinked. "Oh jeez! I am really sorry! I only got back in touch with Bambi recently. I never knew she had a kid!"
"Technically, I'm her stepdaughter," Bloodhound admitted. "I'll also be your waiter this evening."
"I love Houndsy as if she were my own!" Sprout assured, hugging Bloodhound and rubbing their cheeks together. "She just needs some help practicing to get a good job."
"Hey, I can appreciate starting small!" Aphrodite gave Bloodhound a hug that, thankfully, was only semi-bone-crushing this time.
Bloodhound cleared her throat. "Please, allow me to show you to the den. We have a cheese platter already in there, along with a selection of wine." It was one of the few things that had been scripted for her to say.
Aphrodite grinned. "Sounds good to me! I'm starving!"
Bloodhound led her to the den, before returning to the entryway to await the next guest. The night's work had begun. Bloodhound steeled herself, preparing and practicing her greeting for when they showed up.
The doorbell rang, and Bloodhound opened it with as pleasant a grin as she could muster. "Welcome! Please, allow me to—"
This guest walked right past Bloodhound and into the house, as if the mare hadn't even seen her. This guest was a tall, slender yellow unicorn with a pale green mane. Her expression was one of impatience and boredom. Bloodhound tried not to stare or sniff too much, but she couldn't help but notice that her perfume was much more expensive than Aphrodite's. "Take me to whichever room the meeting is taking place in," she ordered in a tone that wasn't overly sharp, but wasn't very friendly either.
"Erm… Of course." Bloodhound uneasily led the mare back to the den, where Sprout and Aphrodite were animatedly chatting. Sprout gave a polite smile to the new guest. "Golden Lace! How long has it been since you last came to visit?"
Lace greeted Sprout with a kiss on each cheek, typical among the elite. Her voice was much warmer than when she'd greeted Bloodhound. "Too long. I'm happy to add my funds towards the donation pool."
Bloodhound stood there awkwardly for a moment. "I'll just… go back to the entrance hall."
The three mares were too deep in conversation to hear her, so she just left.
Bloodhound smelled the next guest before she saw her. The scent of alcohol hit her like a wall, and for the second time that night, Bloodhound was wrapped in an involuntary hug.
"Urp! Sorry!" the inebriated mare said. This one was a unicorn, with an electric blue coat, and a well-groomed, black mane and tail that each bore a single white stripe. She was dressed rather dapperly, in a dark blue jacket and tie with a matching top hat. A pair of silver spectacles balanced on her muzzle. "I did a little pre-gaming before the party! Heh heh!"
The reek of booze made it impossible for Bloodhound to determine any other scents. "Yes ma'am. Clearly. Please release me and I'll show you to the others."
The drunk wobbled a little. "I'm a tad unsteady. Can I lean on you on the way there?"
Fantastic. With her scent on me, Mother will think I drank myself into a stupor. Still, she wanted to make her mom proud, so she let the drunk lean on her until they got to the den.
Sprout and the two other guests glanced up, immediately frowning in disapproval when they saw the drunk's state. "Coin Flip," Sprout said with a sigh, coming over to take Bloodhound's boozey burden and help her to a couch. "I had hoped you might show some respect for what we're trying to do here."
"Sorry…" Flip grumbled. "Just trying to take the edge off, y'know?"
"Can I get anypony anything?" Bloodhound offered.
"Bring us another bottle of wine," Lace replied with a subtle glare at Flip, and without a please in sight.
Bloodhound flinched, but nodded. She raced to the kitchen to grab her tray, then down to the cellar to get the wine.
When she got down there, she paused, glancing over at a special cupboard that sat separately from the other wine racks. It was her mother's special stash, filled with the best, most expensive wines and liquors, many of which had been given as gifts. For a moment, she was tempted to get just a little bit of revenge. No. She will use me as a virgin blood sacrifice if I touch any of those bottles.
She settled for a random bottle that looked fancy from the rack. When she returned, Flip had seemingly vanished. Upon seeing Bloodhound, Lace winced, while the other two grinned.
Lace accepted the bottle with an awkward smile. "Thank you. My sincerest apologies for my behavior earlier. I had no idea you were Sprout's daughter."
Well this is a somewhat pleasant surprise. "Oh, no need to worry. The queen need not respect the drone, after all."
Lace looked flattered until she realized Bloodhound was referring to bees. "Right, well… that's wonderful, then."
"Come sit with us, Houndsy," Sprout offered, patting the spot next to her.
Bloodhound hesitated a little, not wanting to be dragged into the center of attention, but Aphrodite wrapped an arm around her, guiding her over. "C'mon! Don't be shy!" the larger mare chided, plopping Bloodhound on the couch. "You're doing good putting up with us, and you've earned a little break."
Bloodhound now found herself in the middle of her mom and Aphrodite, who both wore big grins. Lace smiled politely on.
"Soooooo…" Aphrodite said in a conspiratorial tone. "After we got all the charity stuff decided, your mum told us you're having a bit of trouble finding a job."
Bloodhound winced. "Yes. How much did she tell you?"
"Enough," Lace replied. "It's a common problem for those in your position."
"What you need is a confidence boost, and somepony to help you get your hoof in the door," Aphrodite suggested. "Maybe I can help with that!"
"Oh, I'm not very athletic," Bloodhound said sheepishly. "I also know very little about dance."
Aphrodite blinked. "How'd you know I was a dancer?"
Bloodhound blushed. "The mixed smells of wing wax and perfume. Wing wax is typically used only by those with jobs that require flight, and your particular brand of perfume is flammable, which would be very dangerous as a weather mare, racer, or stuntmare, due to the pyrotechnics and proximity to lightning. But an air dancer would work primarily indoors." She cleared her throat awkwardly after that awkwardly long explanation. "Sorry."
"Houndsy has a strong nose," Sprout explained with a teasing grin.
Aphrodite beamed. "That was amazing! Do Lacy!"
Lace frowned. "I asked you not to call me that."
"Hush! Houndsy is working!"
Bloodhound really didn't want to do this, and Lace clearly didn't either.
Fortunately, both of them were saved by the drunk.
"Heeeey! I found a bunch of good wine bottles in your basement!"
Coin Flip staggered in, holding a black bottle with a gold label. Bloodhound winced with her entire body when she saw that it was open.
"Flip!" Sprout said irritably. "That's from my wife's private stock!"
"Bah, I'm sure she won't mind!" She took a big swig from the bottle. "This is good stuff! Imma keep it for myself…"
"Flip, look at yourself!" Aphrodite scolded. "You'd lose your position if the Magus Council heard about this!"
"I already lost my family, so why not?" Flip took another drink.
Sprout approached Flip, gently wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Flippy, honey, what would your sister think if she saw you like this?"
Flip's face fell. "She'd give me an earful. Probably tan my hide."
"Exactly. Now, how about we give up that bottle, and go get you sobered up." Sprout nodded to Bloodhound to take the bottle.
Bloodhound reached for it. She was expecting the stubborn resistance, but she wasn't expecting Flip to be so unsteady that she was pulled off-balance. As a result, the bottle fell forward, spilling wine all over Bloodhound's dress.
Bloodhound gasped in shock at the sudden cold liquid. Flip seemed just as shocked. "Oh my! I'm so sorry!" She pulled out a hoofkerchief, trying and failing to help Bloodhound clean up.
Sprout gently nudged her way in. "It's alright. I'll help her."
Flip flinched. "I cannot apologize enough. You're right. I'm a fool." She picked up the bottle. "I'll go put this away."
Sprout smiled kindly at her. "Thank you. I'll take Houndsy upstairs to clean up and change."
Bloodhound was on the verge of tears as she was brought upstairs. "I'm sorry! I'm terrible at this. First I do a poor job guiding the guests in. Then I let myself take the focus of the party. Now I've gone and ruined the dress you bought for me!" She wasn't one for dresses, but it was a nice one, and more importantly, a gift.
"Hush now," Sprout said as she brought Bloodhound into her and Fireball's dressing room. "You're doing wonderfully. You can just change back into your sweater." It took a few minutes of digging, as there seemed to be a large amount of dirty clothes, but eventually she retrieved the turtleneck from the hamper and helped Bloodhound out of her dress.
"Am I?" Bloodhound asked with melancholy in her voice as she slipped back into her sweater. "I don't feel like I am."
"Houndsy, this lack of confidence is what causes you to sabotage yourself." Sprout cupped her daughter's cheek. "You're your own worst critic. Have any of us scolded you tonight?"
"No…" Bloodhound admitted.
"And you absolutely left an impression on Aphrodite," Sprout continued. "She has more connections than you might think. You may have opened up a lot of doors just by being yourself."
"You think?" Bloodhound asked doubtfully.
"I do." The warmth of Sprout's smile made it hard for Bloodhound not to smile herself, and eventually she gave in and returned it.
Sprout stood next to her, directing Bloodhound to look at their reflections in the mirror. "Look at yourself, Houndsy. What do you see?"
"I see a scrawny half-unicorn who got the short end of both genetic sticks," Bloodhound joked.
Sprout nudged her with a chuckle. "Quit with that. Look deeper. Know what I see? I see a mare who has a lot of challenges facing her. But I also see a very smart, clever mare who is finally trying to fight back against those challenges, and just took her first big step forward. Soon you'll be galloping, Houndsy."
Bloodhound couldn't help a blush as she took in the praise. She looked herself over. Maybe she's right. Maybe I am stronger than I thought.
As she thought that, she thought she saw something odd in the mirror, but shook her head, focusing on herself.
Sprout stepped into the reflection, hugging Bloodhound. "You're just starting out, Houndsy, but I see big—" She coughed. "Ahem… I'm so sorry I…" Her breath hitched in her throat, sounding almost like a hiccup.
Bloodhound looked at her in surprise concern. "Mum? Are you okay?"
Sprout's face looked odd. It was as if all the muscles in her face were straining.
Then she vomited a torrent of blood all over Bloodhound, staggered for a moment, and fell over sideways with a resounding thud.
Bloodhound's mouth hung open in absolute shock for two seconds that felt like an eternity. Her chest and forelegs were covered in blood, and some had even gotten in her mane. Her heart missed several beats. The world slowed to a crawl.
Then she started to scream.
Bloodhound awoke in a daze. Her chest felt like it had been smashed by a boulder, then a second, smaller boulder had been placed atop it to make it hard to breathe. Something in her mouth tasted awful.
Slowly, her eyes creaked open, and she looked around. She was in a hospital room, lying in bed. Fireball was asleep in one of the chairs next to her. She looked disheveled, and smelled like she'd recently thrown up. "Mother?" Bloodhound said gently to wake her up. Her voice came out as a rough croak.
Fireball snorted awake, looking around just as blearily as Bloodhound had before her eyes focused on her daughter.
Yet again, Bloodhound found herself wrapped in an involuntary hug. Again? But I haven't…
Then the memories of the night came rushing back to her. She immediately started to panic. "What happened?" she asked, naked fear in her voice. She was starting to hyperventilate.
"Whoa there! Calm down!" Fireball let her move away to arm's length, but kept her hooves on Bloodhound's shoulders. "You had an asthma attack and passed out."
"That's not what I mean, and you know it!" Bloodhound barely managed to restrain her breathing.
Fireball couldn't meet her eyes. "Yeah… Yeah I know."
Bloodhound's breath hitched. "Is she…?"
Fireball's eyes closed. The pain on her face was more than visible; it was palpable. Bloodhound's heart broke as the truth hit her: Bamboo Sprout, the mare who had helped raise her since she was a filly, was dead.
She let herself be drawn back into the hug. Tears started to well up in her eyes. "H-how did it happen?" she asked with a sniffle. "Was she sick?"
"We aren't sure yet," Fireball admitted. "It's only been a couple of hours. Whoever gave you CPR did a number on your ribs, so we brought you to the hospital. She's… She's going to the morgue, so they can find out what was wrong with her."
Bloodhound buried her nose into her mother's shoulder. "She… she was going to officially adopt me."
Bloodhound had never seen her mother so broken, haggard, and defeated. She nodded slowly. "I know. She told me. I'm so, so sorry Houndsy." She sniffled and wiped her eyes.
Fireball looked like she needed this hug even more than Bloodhound did. We haven't hugged like this since I was a filly, and I have never seen her cry.
But this was a moment that simply brought down both of their guards. For a long time, the two mares could do nothing but sit and cry.