//------------------------------// // With eyes upturned to the heavens // Story: Cutie Mark Camp Blues // by Moonbeam Thought Writes //------------------------------// To: Grand Chancellor of the Council For The Betterment Of Equestria’s Youth, Applebloom. Re: My Administrative Leave Dearest Chancellor. I am delighted to report that your reasonable and wise choice to place me on administrative leave has paid off. I have taken up yoga, worked through my… issues with my therapist. The pieces of office furniture and stationery I had regrettably destroyed in my emotion. Though, if I may be so bold in questioning your wisdom as to ask; when am I being placed back in my position? You did not give an ending date to my administrative leave. As the days roll by, it has me beginning to wonder when I will get back to serving the community. Hopefully it will be sometime soon? Sincerely, peacefully, Citric Quartzite Two weeks earlier Cobblestone sat, surrounded by ponies and yet alone. He joined in on their conversations, laughing, cracking jokes, making bold statements. But it wasn’t the same. Vig had, according to the Group Leaders, received a cutie mark and returned home without spectacle. But Moonbeam? They had apparently gotten sick and was resting in the Nurse’s Cabin. Leaving him to make new friends and join new ponies’ friend groups in the middle of the camp. It was boring, to tell the truth. He wanted ponies to proclaim things to and throw snowballs at. He’d had barely a week with the other two, but he missed them a whole bunch. Even Vig, despite their differences. At that point in time, Cobblestone just hoped Moonbeam would get well enough to rejoin everypony else soon. All these other ponies were, with a few exceptions, boring. None of them ever wanted to argue over jackets or indulge in his theatrics. And most of them certainly didn’t really want to hang out with him after the great snowball fight. He gazed distractedly at the window over on the right side of the lunch cabin. It was cracked, but papered up with tape and glue. Sunlight glowed warmly around the edges of the tape. He had broken that window, breaking into the lunch hall. That night had been the last time he’d seen Moonbeam. And the night before that was the last time he’d seen Vig. And since the Winter Moon Festival was beginning that night, that meant decorations needed putting up and festive food needed to be cooked and ate. All of which the Group Leaders would no doubt frame as ways to find a special talent. But he couldn’t complain. Any excuse to eat moon cakes and marzipan snowflakes. He hoped Moonbeam would be out in time to celebrate with him. And that out there, somewhere, Vig would be dancing and enjoying the festivities just like him. “Are you sure you don’t want to return home? At least write to your parents, sugar. I’m sure they’re gonna be real understanding” Sage Mercy tried “No, no, I’m good staying here. And I’m sure Mother will be more pleased to see me in the flesh than through a letter” Sauvignon Glamour breezed. “Aww, come on, sugar. Your Mum’s probably going to be understanding and accepting of the truth.” “Ahahaha ummm, well, uh… maybe tomorrow?” Sage sighed and abated. “I’ll ask you again tomorrow.” But she’d asked every day since her patient had been brought to her. And still Vig, as she liked to be called, refused to have the train come back and for her to board, or even to write home. Sage’d had had Vig’s luggage brought in from her cabin, but since she couldn’t exactly go outside anymore, there wasn’t much need to wear any of the winter gear she’d packed, save for a pair of retro black leg warmers when it got chilly in the mornings. Sage shook her head slightly before turning and walking out of the room Vig had made her non-permanent residence. And into the room of the other young filly in her care. Moonbeam Thought, Vig had said her name was. And that she was also a they sometimes. But regardless of pronouns or name, that young filly in her care was a full-on medical, magical miracle. The wound marring their shoulder had healed in less than a day, where it had previously been estimated to leave a permanent, ugly mark. Indeed, the only mark that remained were the startlingly equine-like indentations of teeth. However, as the pattern of teeth also matched those of a timberwolf, the story Foggy Bramble had given still held up. And no normal pony teeth were that sharp, or had miniature fangs where the regular rounded canines would be. A timberwolf it had to be, then. Sage busied herself checking the screens attached to various machines and contraptions, beeping and whirring, of which those were attached to the body of the young teen who lay in the bed. The heart monitors reported nothing out of the ordinary, and the only thing off about the screen monitoring blood, was the lower-than average level of blood sugar. The IV fitted neatly to a vein in the arm was still attached properly, and the nutrients flowing through it were still going steadily. All in all, nothing to worry about. You know, besides the abnormal healing rate of the wound and what Sage was beginning to suspect was a coma. One patient afflicted with the ghastly undeath of Vampirism, and one in a coma, with a shoulder that refused to stay hurt. Plus the colt who was surprisingly prone to falling in the lake, and would surely return to Sage’s care due another brush with the cold, icy waters. Not bad. Not what she’d have liked, but not as overcrowded as one summer had been. Sage Mercy was not exactly pleased, but she also wasn’t stressed. How much worse could this camp possibly get? It was a lot worse, as it turned out, to be awake and alive. Sure, it wasn’t exactly a cakewalk to be trapped in my head, with only my thoughts to keep me company. But, hey. The pain wasn’t constant. And when the deep, fiery pain in my mindscape subsided, and I opened my eyes once again, my first thought was: I’m not dead. Being dead surely wouldn’t hurt as much as it did when I awoke from my dreamless void. A gnawing, bruise-like pain awaited me when I rejoined the rest of the world, and when I cracked open my eyes for the first time in what had felt like millennia, the sun was near-blinding. But I was awake. And in a little pain. And not dead, which was a bonus. I turned my head, ever so slightly, ignoring the tingling pins and needles that ran up and down my neck as I did so. And when I angled my head down, just enough to see the place where the beast had ripped into me- “Moonbeam! I can’t believe it! You’re awake! Took you long enough.” That voice sounded familiar. Sauvignon Glamour. I dragged my gaze from where I had been trying to angle it, over to her. She stood at the doorway to another room, just out of the sun’s reach. And was it just me, or had the pointed slits of her pupils only grown sharper? I nodded, not trusting my voice. “Honestly, I mean, I was worried you’d just die asleep like that. It’s been, what, a day and a half since I last saw you” she chattered, filling in the silence. I nodded, again. If this kept up I’d end up looking like a bobble head. “How was it, being asleep for so long? What’d you dream about?” I tilted my head from side to side in a so-so gesture, before wincing at the spikes of pain it sent shooting up my temples. Being awake and alive in the realm of the living hurt. “And have you seen your shoulder yet? That was bucking creepy, please never heal like that again!” Why was I getting a sinking feeling of dread? I turned my head back to focus on my shoulder. Oh no. Oh no no no. It had healed. The wound on my shoulder, where bone had previously been exposed, and blood wept into the ground, was completely gone. Healed. This was wrong! I should have been gutted with pain, to the point of bleeding out! But all that was left of my horrific night in the forest was unbroken flesh marred only by little, rounded teeth marks. Maybe the waking world wasn’t such a nice place after all. Two weeks later Citric Quartzite paced the room, trying to remain calm, to focus on the jangling and clinking his jewellery made with his every step. This, he decided was surely torture-adjacent. How long until that thrice-damned mare showed up? How long until she finally decided to start the meeting the two had planned in their correspondence? How long was Applebloom going to make him wait? Citric sank down onto his haunches, practicing the breathing exercises he’d gone over with his therapist. He thought of his family, his mother and father, and not of the anger that was building up at the edges of his mind. Happy thoughts, he reminded himself. Happy, peaceful, non-angry thoughts. She had to come soon. If she stood him up- “If that absolute buckwit isn’t here soon then I will-” he began, only to be cut off by a voice, light, but with a rich southern twang from behind him. “You’ll what? ‘Abracadabra’ me to th’ moon? Great. Ah could really use a break right about now.” “Look who finally decided to show up. Grand Chancellor.” “Former director.” Was she referring to herself or him? Because if she was saying what he thought she was saying… “And what do you mean by that?” “Nuthin’ at all, Mister Quartzite. Now Ah believe you called me here to discuss the terms o’ yer… leave.” He gritted his teeth, and tried hard to retain composure. “Indeed I did.” Finally, Citric turned to face her. Grand Chancellor Applebloom. A yellow earth pony with a washed-out red mane and dangerously fiery orange eyes. She wore a large pink bow in her hair, which complemented the matching pink tie attached to her black velvet suit. The only decoration she wore, besides the (as Citric thought, every time he saw it, ridiculous) bow, was a small red pin in the shape of an apple, carefully pinned to one lapel. In contrast, Citric’s only attire was his necklace, a large gaudy thing of seven different-coloured crystals, and his earrings, a pair of simple, wire-thin gold hoops. “And Ah’m here to tell you th’ whole truth. Former Director Citric Quartzite, this is your official two weeks of notice. You’re being let go. Seer Songbird will be replacing you as director in two weeks time” she stated. He could feel the rage boiling inside him. Red clouded the edges of his vision. White-hot fury crept into his every thought. “Get out.” Citric said quietly. It wasn’t a question. Applebloom glanced at the still-open door behind her. “What did you say?” “GET OUT!” He roared. The mare shot one last glare at him, before turning and leaving. Now that she was gone, he ran a hoof through his mane, muttering curses. This was great. This was just great. The breaths that did come, pushing roughly through his throat, were fast, and panicked. What would he do? Citric was out of a job. The small, downtown Ponyville bungalow he leased was costly. He had to eat, for Twilight’s sake! And all over a little incident in the camp he directed. It all felt like a massive overreaction to him. There’d been a murder in his time as director. A literal murder, and this was what got him sacked? Unbelievable. Two weeks earlier. Gybh looked up at the sun, hidden behind a cloud and yet it’s light shined on. Truly an inspiration, if nothing else ever would be. It was sinking, slowly but surely; sliding across the darkening sky to a final destination beyond the horizon. She wasn’t partial to flying, but the sheer majesty of the celestial ceiling of Equus was enough to have anycreature’s heart soaring. But that was while the sun remained in pride of place in the sky. That night, the moon would rise, a full circle of pure white and pale cream, ascending like a god into the dark of night, strung with stars and garnished with clouds. Not that Foggy Bramble would get to see any of it. No, for her coworker had come to Gybh with a request to be locked away for the night. It wasn’t a bad idea, truly, but the place she would have to lock Foggy into was enough to give the hardiest of creatures a bad dream or two. Gybh took a long, glorious look at the sun, which now burnt a dim orange, and was beginning to slip over the edge of the world. Drinking in the beautiful pinks, oranges and grey-blues of the sky. Beside her, Gybh knew Foggy was doing the same, though for the last time that night. And with one last view of the sky, she unlocked, unlatched and pulled open the door to the Staff Basement. And stepped right in, traipsing carefully down the stairs. Foggy Bramble hurried in behind her, striding quickly down to the bottom. The two exchanged the expected words of cautions and goodbyes, before Gybh jogged back up the stairs, avoiding the practically collapsed one three down from the top. She’d come back for her friend in the morning. Hopefully, there’d still be a friend down there come morning. It was night. The sun had long since dropped out of the sky, and the moon was taking it’s Twilight-damned time getting over the trees. I couldn’t stay still. All of the beeping, whirring and restless devices had been disconnected from me, now that I was awake and fully functioning. Vig sat on the bed beside me, deep in thought. “So you were attacked by an… eldritch creature of the beyond?” “I’m not sure how you got to that, but if that’s all we’ve got to go off of, then sure.” “No, no, that can’t be right. Maybe it was a rogue changeling!” “Oh, come on, Vig. That’s kinda xenophobic.” “An unreformed changeling?” “I’m sure an unreformed changeling lives alone in the woods, ready to tear out young fillies’ shoulders.” “Then it was a Zombie. I got nothing else.” “Couldn’t have been. Zombies don’t look like that!” “…you ever seen a Zombie?” “Nope!” “What else could it have possibly been?” “A Vampony perhaps?” “Do I look like a joke to you, Moonbeam Thought?” “No, you do not look like a joke to me, Sauvignon Glamour.” “Please for the love of the holy, the unholy and everything under the Twilight-damned sun, DON’T CALL ME THAT!” “Oop, sorry. Assumed we were just using full names now.” “Forgiven.” A sudden shiver racked my body, making me shake uncontrollably. When I regained bodily autonomy, my heart beat just a little too fast, deafening in my ears. “I don’t- I don’t feel so good…” I stuttered. The moon had finally risen. The light from it shined into the room brighter than any pony-made light. I seized up, frozen, before doubling over. Nausea rose like a great wave. And the moonlight. Oh, the moonlight. It called to me. I could faintly hear Vig, like she was oh so far away, repeating my name, only growing more frantic. But I was a thousand kilometres away. I felt strange. Different. Alien. The moon called. A beacon, drawing me towards it’s light. I was a moth, and this was my flame. Enchanted, entranced. The moon called, and who was I to deny it.