The sun had barely peeked over the horizon when Fiddlesticks rolled out of bed. Summer may have been drawing to a close, but it still got really hot really quickly, and she needed to practice before it got too hot.
She was expecting a lovely morning with music and maybe playing along with the birds and their singing.
What she was not expecting was a pony falling out of the tree in a shower of branches, leaves, and swear words.
The music stopped. Fiddlesticks looked down, taken aback. Her brow furrowed further as she realized she knew this pony. “Lightning Dust? Why were you in my tree?”
“What’s wrong with trees?” Lightning asked defensively as she pushed herself up.
“It’s an oak tree, not a pegasus tree. Acorns should be falling, not pegasuses.”
“Yeah, well, keep an open mind,” Lightning said, rolling out her neck.
“Did you sleep up there last night?”
“Pegasi have always napped in trees,” Lightning said snippily… as she was stretching out her back, like she’d slept all night in the tree.
Fiddlesticks bit her lower lip. “Lightning Dust, where’s ‘home’ for you?”
Lightning shrugged. “Cloudsdale,” she said unconvincingly.
Fiddlesticks raised an eyebrow. She now had the sneaking suspicion that she lived on the road, wherever her next tour stop was. And if she wasn’t on tour again... “What about your team?”
Lightning sighed, not wanting to admit it, but the words tumbling out anyway. “I can’t face them.”
“What, because you’re blind in one eye? They’ll find out eventually. They already knew you were in the accident, right? When they came to see you?”
Lightning didn’t answer.
“They... did come to see you,” Fiddlesticks repeated, more hesitantly this time, “right?”
“I… may have accidentally started a tradition that if you ended up in the hospital, you’re a loser.”
Fiddlesticks blinked. “That’s a terrible tradition,” she remarked.
“I mean, I didn’t mean to,” Lightning defended herself. “Rolling Thunder landed in a poison ivy bush, so it wasn’t, like, fatal or anything. I just got busy and just never made it down there until she got out. It just kinda... stuck.”
“I'm a little concerned that ending up in the hospital happens enough that you have a known process for it,” she said.
“We’re the Washouts,” Lightning said with a toss of her mane. “It’s part of the risk we take. All glory.”
“But you’re not willing to risk actually talking to them?” Fiddlesticks prompted.
She had landed a direct hit. “What do you know about taking risks?” Lightning spat. She flared her wings and flew away.
Fiddlesticks watched her leave, and wondered if she’d said something wrong. She slowly loosened her bow’s hair. She didn’t feel like practicing this morning anymore.
Fiddlesticks tuned her violin thoughtlessly. She looked up at the sky, as if hoping she’d see Lightning Dust fly by with her team.
But the sky remained clear, except for a few scattered clouds that Scattered Clouds was placing. She exhaled and headed outside again. She started with a simple warmup, a few tuneless scales.
And then she stopped as she heard a startled squawk and a pegasus fall from the tree.
Lightning Dust looked up, her mane splayed over her face, and spat out a leaf. “Again? Really?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” Fiddlesticks said, dropping her bow, unable to suppress a little smile. “How did it go?”
“Oh, just peachy,” Lightning said as she moved her mane aside, revealing a new, sizable gash on her cheek.
“Did they do that?” Fiddlesticks asked, horrified.
“No, that’s from me trying to prove I still had it,” Lightning said bitterly. “My team…”
“Whoa. You’re really hurt.”
“Yeah. But I can stil-”
“Wait, wait. That means…” Rolling Thunder cheered and pushed Short Fuse down. “Ha, ha! I’m the greatest flyer now, no take backsies!”
Short Fuse flew back up. “What? In your dreams!”
“You couldn’t reach my dreams on a step stool, you loser!”
Short Fuse let out an incoherent screech and the two ponies began scuffling.
“-didn’t seem to care much one way or the other.”
Fiddlesticks blinked.
“What, nothing witty to say?” Lightning needled.
“Nope,” Fiddlesticks said simply. “I’m at a loss for words. I don’t even have a bad joke for you.”
Lightning scoffed. “They’re the idiots. I’ll show them. They’ll be begging to have me back.”
Fiddlesticks scuffed a hoof on the ground. “You know, it’s my cousin who’s more into that whole friendship thing, but I know what it’s not, and that, that’s not it.”
“Yeah, well, it’s the best I could do. You want to teach me how to do it better?”
It had been rhetorical, but Fiddlesticks seemed to consider it, which made Lightning pause.
Finally, she spoke. “Alright. To start with, you don’t have to sleep in my tree. I’ve got a couch you can crash on.” She paused. “Wait. Is that a bad choice of words?”
“Better than one of your terrible jokes,” Lightning said. She realized a bit too late that that was just an invitation, and it had most likely reminded her of one.
Fiddlesticks grinned. “Well, now I’ve got one for you. What type of music are balloons afraid of?”
“Ah, ponyfeathers.”
“Pop music.”
Lightning groaned. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I.”
“Maybe. But I think in time, you’ll learn to love it.”
“Music pun. Ha. I get it.”
Fiddlesticks came back in from practicing and slowed to a stop as she saw Lightning Dust, still sprawled on the couch with a cushion over her head. She flicked it off with a back hoof. “So, what’s the plan for today?”
“Does ‘pretend I’m dead’ count?”
“You did that yesterday, and the day before, so I’m going to say ‘no’.”
“Come on, Fiddly. If we’re friends, shouldn’t you let me do what I want?”
“Friendship doesn’t mean I let you do whatever you want. I’m going to help you get better, and you’re supposed to push me, too.”
“Yeah?” Lightning challenged. “What kind of job can a half-blind pegasus do?”
As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Fiddlesticks opened it to reveal a gray pegasus standing there, holding a small package.
What drew Lightning’s attention was her eyes. One was looking at her, one was looking up at the sky.
But Fiddlesticks was much more interested in the small package she held. “Are these my strings?”
The mailmare nodded.
Fiddlesticks giggled like a young filly, prancing in place as she took them.
“New strings, like for your violin?” Lightning asked.
“Eeyup. Just in time, too. Gotta break them in a bit before they’re good to go for the Apple Family Reunion.”
“Should I know what that is?”
Fiddlesticks retrieved her violin. “Unless you’ve ever been an Apple’s girlfriend, probably not. All the Apple Family gets together. They talk, eat a lot of food, play games, eat food, the old folks work on a quilt that I don’t think will ever get done, and of course-”
“Eat food?” Lightning guessed flatly. “You trying to sell me on this or scare me away?”
“It doesn’t matter too much. It’s an unspoken rule that if you bring a plus one, it’s ‘serious’,” she said with air quotes. “You’re going to get raked over the coals about future plans and foals-”
“Even two mares?”
“You bet. They’re all equal opportunity hazers. And if I started naming all my aunts that are a little ‘out there’, I’ll be here all day.” She shuddered and resumed working.
“Huh.” Lightning watched as Fiddlesticks twisted the pegs gently, loosening the first string with an unexpected dexterity and gentleness. Part of her had thought she’d just ask a unicorn. “It’s kinda funny. I usually only change things when they’re actually broken.”
“Like what? You don’t even change the bathroom roll.”
“You know, like parachute straps, guide ropes, and chains, dumb stuff like that.”
“That whole sentence was horrifying, so I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Fiddlesticks said airily. She smiled. “But as long as you’re here…”
Lightning groaned, knowing where this was going.
“Want to hear the joke about a staccato? Never mind, it’s too short.”
“Ugh.”
“Didn’t like that one? No worries. Want to hear the one about a fermata? Wait, it’s too long.”
Lightning groaned again and headed towards the door. “You know what? I changed my mind. Job hunting is better than this,” she said. “Lightning, out.”