//------------------------------// // Hearts Break Easy and Bows Go Twang // Story: Of Rumbling Dinks // by RavensDagger //------------------------------// Miss Cheerilee hummed a toneless tune as she marched between the rows of chairs, her tail twitching from one side to the other. The teacher stopped at each desk, dropped the pile of tests she was carrying, sorted through it and finally left the appropriate one on the desk of the terrified student. It was a simple process that the teacher had taken to repeating each and every Friday. Dinky loved it. At the little filly’s side, her friend, Archer, was fidgeting in her seat. Nervous hooves played along the edge of her desk, then reached up to touch her sweaty blue brow before lowering again. “Are you okay?” Dinky asked, leaning over to the side so that her whisper wouldn’t be overheard. It was a trick that the pony she was talking to had taught her. “Huh?” Archer blinked. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” she said as she straightened herself out and tried to relax. Half a second later, she was back to her fiddling. Pulling back to her seat and glancing over the restless class, Dinky muttered under her breath with a saddened sigh, “You don’t look fine.” It was a muffled curse from Archer that drew Dinky back. “Okay, so I’m not fine,” the pegasus admitted. She pointed to the students ahead as if they were on display. “Look at ‘em, will ya, Dinks.” The unicorn peered at her fellow students, noting the sea of bent backs and nervous twitches that many of them seemed to be suffering from. Others, those that she thought of as intellectual equals and rivals, were simply waiting patiently. At the front, both Silver Spoon and Diamond Tiara were sweating bullets over their tests, as if staring hard enough could change their grades to something a little higher. “I don’t get it, what’s wrong?” “What’s wrong? Dinks, if I fail I’m doomed!” Archer’s hushed voice echoed across the quiet room, catching the attention of the overly-happy Miss Cheerilee, who smiled her way. Archer swallowed hard. Dinky furrowed her brow and blinked fast. “Oh no, you can’t be serious. And, well, it’s just one test, and I’m sure that you did great, Archer. You’re much smarter than I am, so I’d imagine that you’re way better then most of the class.” Her friend took in a deep breath and averted her gaze. “Yeah, whatever.” Aww, that’s terrible, Dinky thought to herself as she began tracing a circle over her binders. Archer’s a really nice pony, and she’s my friend; she shouldn’t fail on just one silly little test! I mean, it wasn’t even that hard of a test. That bonus question on flight aerodynamics was totally answered in the fine print of page eighteen of our books. Miss Cheerilee won’t let her fail either, she’s a nice teacher! The said teacher reached the far back of the classroom where Dinky awaited her with a resplendent smile that she answered with a noncommittal grunt. “Here,” Miss Cheerilee muttered before placing the two remaining tests on each desk. “Good work, Dinky,” she said with all the enthusiasm of a mare facing a death squad. “Thank you, Miss Cheerilee!” Dinky replied, voice ringing like the sweet toll of a chime. Grasping the piece of looseleaf in both hooves, Dinky read the top of the sheet where, in a clear red pen, the teacher had left her score. “Oh, sweet peas! I got 99 again!” Dinky exclaimed before turning her widened eyes to Archer. The filly heaved a sigh of relief, her entire body deflating into her seat and sinking down until her eyes were just level with the desk’s edge. She let go of her test and let it flutter onto the table top, its surface rippling under her escaped breath. Curiosity getting the better of her, Dinky focused on the sheet and, with the barest of efforts, levitated it over the chasm that separated them until the page floated centimetres from her muzzle. It smelt faintly of sweat and dreams-on-edge. Oh-uh, that’s really, really not good. Dinky bit her lower lip and scrolled down the page with her eyes, wincing in sympathy at some of the answers scrawled there. “Archer, um, you did, really really okay,” she said as she hoofed the test over. Reaching out, Archer snatched it with a wing-tip and beamed. “I know! A whole sixty-five percent. That’s like, way more than last time!” Dinky choked down a gasp and forced on a smile. “Well, that’s good. But, did you really think that the state where particles show the least movement is Canterlot?” Archer shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m guessing that was wrong or something, right?” “Well... yeah? Archer, why were you so nervous? I mean... why were you so close to, you know...” “Failing?” Archer filled in the empty space. “I dunno, I guess I should have studied more or something. Bah, I passed this time and will probably pass the next too, right? Mom won’t be too mad and I won’t be stopped from going to the competition.” “Not go to the competition?” Dinky almost jumped out of her seat. “Archer! Are you insinuating that your mother won’t allow you to go to the regional archery competition if your grades are too low?” One of Archer’s brows perked up. “I ain’t insulating anything. Just that if I don’t pass, mom won’t let me go is all.” With a huff, the filly pouted and turned her attention to the window opposite Dinky, staring blankly at the world outside. “Archer, that’s terrible. You’ve been talking my ear off—not that I mind—about that event for weeks. You can’t just abandon it because of failed school work.... How much time do you spend studying?” “Um, none?” Dinky’s cry of astonishment and shock was cut off as Miss Cheerilee stationed herself at the fore of the classroom and gave a little cough. Once the class’ attention had shifted, the mare began her practiced recital of subtle hints of failure and warnings disguised as encouragement.  “That was a great test. Some of you—few as you were—did excellent on it; the rest were okay. Fewer of you failed this time... although it was an easier exam, to be honest.” The guilty shifting-in-one’s-seat lasted for a few moments under the teacher’s cheerful gaze before class resumed as normal. Homework for the following morning was dished out at a leisurely pace, as if the teacher had an ample supply to rid herself of; lessons were talked about, but hardly touched; and the students were kept in strict regimens of mindless drudgery. Then, finally, Miss Cheerilee passed down a series of papers and mumbled something about working in pairs if they so chose, as long as the work got done. Immediately, Dinky scoured the classroom, her bright eyes snapping onto the back of Rumble’s head as the colt smiled at those around him, and laughing with the suave tone of comfort. Oh, I’d love to work with him! she thought until a blue smudge at the edge of her vision pulled her back. Oh, but Archer needs me more, right? And a friend in need is a friend indeed. Without sharing a single word, the two fillies moved their desks together until the desks thumped on each other and formed a single surface. Dinky and Archer slid their sheets over and pressed the edges together as they both gathered their pens. “Thanks, Dinky,” Archer said as she leaned over the page. “Um, no problem? I really like working with you and all....” “No, not that. Thanks for helping me. You’re right, I should study more and stuff... but it’s really boring. I don’t know how you do it all the time.” “Oh. Well, maybe I could help you? That’s what friends are for, right?” Dinky asked, her heartwarming to a healthy glow as Archer smiled at her. “And I love studying, so maybe I could impart some of that to you? We could do this work, and maybe read the manuals for next year. Oh! And after class, we could ask Miss Cheerilee for extra homework! She just loves giving me some. Last time, I got to do her income taxes.” Archer’s smile slowly dropped, forming a crude and disgusted grimace. “How ‘bout we start a little... easier. You don’t fire a bow until you know which end of the arrow goes squick.” Dinky extended her hoof, and Archer promptly bumped it, sealing the deal. “All right,” the pegasus said. “You teach me after school a bit. But in exchange I’ll help you with something.” “Well, I don’t really need help with anything. I’m just happy having a good friend by my side.” Dinky looked down at their sheets, mentally beginning to play with the numbers scrawled across it. “Horseapples.” Archer thumped Dinky’s shoulder. “If you don’t do this sorta thing, you’ll be used by everypony. Now, ya don’t have to give me something now-now, but when you’re ready I’ll return the favour. And no ‘buts!’” With a firm nod, the unicorn agreed and went back to work. Time moved on at a mixed pace for the two fillies, one thoroughly enjoying the discussion on simple mathematics with her friend, the other scrambling to understand the concepts behind the answers. Finally, they reached the end of the page, both letting out a smooth, satisfied sigh as they leaned back and looked across the classroom. Dinky found herself staring at the back of Rumble’s head. The colt was tackling one of the final questions with another filly, a bright yellow earth pony called Sunny Days. The colt laughed at a whispered joke from the filly, sending a wave of remorse and jealousy through Dinky. She averted her gaze, but not before Archer connected the dots. “Hey, Dinky, don’t tell me that you... like Rumble, eh?” the filly asked in a conspiratorial whisper as she leaned in. “Well, I do like him, he’s a nice colt and he treated me with a lot of respect. And he’s a friend.” “Sure he is,” she replied, sarcasm dripping. “Come on Dinky, you can tell me.” The unicorn shied away, turning her face to the far end of the class as a deep sheath of crimson trailed across her features. Do I truthfully like him? What Mommy said seems to confirm that what I feel for Rumble is love, but I’ve hardly finished grasping friendship yet. But he is cute, and nice, and nice. “Well, I guess I like him, sorta. He’s never been anything but kind to me, and he’s sorta really cute, right?” Her blush rose in intensity, rivaling that of unshielded molten lava. Her friend nodded wisely. “So I found what I can help you with, and it hardly took a minute. All right, by the day’s end, you’ll be going on a date with Rumble.” “What?!” Dinky shrieked. Every head spun around and stared wide-eyed at her as she sank into her chair and tried to disappear. Worse yet was Rumble when he gave her a concerned flash of teeth then returned to devoting his attention to Sunny Days. “What’cha lookin’ at?” Archer growled at the nearest students, prompting them to turn around and get back to work, or else. The filly reached out and placed a hoof near Dinky. “What’s wrong?” “That’s far too rapid. Your plan, I mean. We-we just met, and we’re sort of young for that sort of thing. And my Mommy would never approve.” “Okay, okay. But you need to do something. I’ll coach you a little,” Archer offered. “Well, what do you know about love?” Dinky asked. She shrugged. “Cupid uses a bow, I use a bow. We’re all set.” “That doesn’t sound very convincing.” “Trust me, Dinky, I’m your friend and I want the best for ya.” Dinky played with the finished sheet of work, going over the questions one last time. “Fine, you can help me, a little.” What am I doing? This is so bizarre, using a friend to make another friend. And I’m not sure that I like-like Rumble. Do I? She bit her lip and forced down a sigh. Well, I guess it couldn’t hurt to try. But I’ll have to get some books on what dating entails. “Perfect! The first step will be to make him want to talk to you some more. Become his friend. After class, you’re going to talk to little mister lucky colt.” The roles had reversed. Now, Dinky spent the entire afternoon session fumbling around her work, sweating, and developing a few new nervous ticks, one of which was to look over to see what Rumble was doing, desperately hoping that she could catch his eye while shivering in fear that he might do so. Class ended too slowly, but when Miss Cheerilee announced to all that they could head home, a swift, cool wind of pleasure ran through the class, wiping away the grimy tiredness that had overtaken the students, and giving them a boost of energy. Archer and Dinky packed their things, placing them in their saddlebags as the class filled with a sea of prattling chit-chat. As the other fillies and foals crashed out of the room, Archer approached Dinky and whispered into her ear, “Okay, here’s the plan: We head outside, find Rumble and strike up a conversation with him. We can invite him over to my place and the three of us can have fun all day. He’ll see that you’re awesome and totally fall for you.” “Your plan sounds a little convoluted. And I can see some holes in it,” Dinky said. “Aww, c’mon, just trust me.” She bumped her hip into Dinky’s and winked. “What’s the worse that could happen?” “Well, not much, I guess.” The two fillies walked to the front of the class, the thumping of their hooves on the schoolhouse’s floor hardly audible over the hubbub of students leaving. Archer began to talk, in a sing-songy voice, about all the ways that a young filly could woo a colt, much to the embarrassment of Dinky as a few of her classmates gave the two some odd glances. Accelerating a little, Dinky made it out the front door right before Archer and was greeted by the soothing warmth of the sun. The light dazzled her and the heat seemed to seep through her coat, jolting it back to life. Taking a deep breath through her nostrils, the young unicorn began descending the steps, eager to find Rumble and begin her experiment, despite, perhaps, the ball in the pit of her stomach. “There he is, go get hi—” Archer began, her words choking off mid-sentence. In the grove of trees near the school was Rumble, his long tail entwined with Sunny Days as the two foals stared into each other’s eyes. Slowly, as if time had no import, they came closer, the filly giving out a nervous giggle that struck Dinky’s ears. They pecked, Rumble’s lips grazing the edge of the filly’s face before he pulled back and looked away, his skin turning red by his blush. No, that can’t be! Dinky’s mind screamed, trying to push the image away. But even after blinking a multitude of times, Rumble was still there, embracing Sunny Days in his quiet, gentlestallion-like way. The information edged out of the realm of deniability and into that of fact, shattering her heart as it did so. The filly shook from tail to hoof as she sat down, hard, on the soil around the schoolhouse. Her insides felt as if they were being spun about, like a cruel pony had jammed a screwdriver into her chest and twisted it, tearing and ripping asunder the things that made her whole. Why is this hurting so much? she wondered, the vestiges of her logical mind trying to grasp at the brute emotions. It shouldn’t hurt, we’re just friends, I didn’t actually lose anything, did I? Still, her eyes watered and a wracking sob tore through her body, only barely cocealed as Archer spread a wing over her and began glaring at any and every pony nearby. “Come on, Dinky,” she said, her hoarse voice somehow turned into a smooth balm. “Let’s go. There’s a place and time for these sort of things; this isn’t it.” Grabbing the blank-faced Dinky by the shoulders, Archer lifted her friend onto her own hooves and led Dinky towards town. As the image of Rumble’s romantic ventures faded behind her, Dinky began to regain her senses, a new blush spreading across her features. “I’m so silly,” she lamented. Her voice was hardly audible over the whisking of their hooves over grass. “You’re not silly at all, Dinky. In fact, you’re like, the smartest pony in the whole school. Sure, you’re not that great with the whole ‘talking to other ponies’ thing... but that doesn’t make you any less good.” The swaying of trees and the gentle laughter of foals left them as they entered Ponyville and began walking along the edge of the main roads. Dinky, her head down, paid no heed to where she was being led. That particular part of her mind was busy plotting out another course. “Thanks, Archer,” she finally said before raising her head and looking about. Pastel-coloured houses and gaily decorated fronts met her eyes all about. The bright afternoon sun was beaming down on the residential block. “No problem. Dinky, you ought to have figured this one out already, but we’re friends. That means that we’ll always stick together, no matter what.” Again, she nudged Dinky with a playful tap of her wing. “Even through lovesickness, or whatever that was....” Smiling but averting her gaze to the cleanly swept sidewalk, Dinky said, “I don’t know what that was. It’s not exactly a... well, logical action. I’m sorry?” “Let’s head inside for a bit, get your mind off of silly colts and onto cooler things. Like firing weapons without adult supervision.” Archer stopped and pointed over her shoulder. Right behind her was her familiar home of white and blue, two stories jutting out of the ground at a right angle. The front door gave to a quick twist of its ornate handle and Archer pushed it open with a butt of her forehead. Dinky followed, her back straight and her body at ease as she felt the gust of cool air escaping the home envelop her and move on. Archer tilted her head to the kitchen and mumbled a disharmonious of accord, asking Dinky to lead the way into the room. Nothing had changed since she had last been there. The fridge hummed a working tune and the countertops shone with an aura of cleanliness, accented by the faint smells of orangey cleaning products. “The cleaning pony must’ve passed,” Archer commented as she tossed her saddlebags onto the granite countertop and trotted to the fridge. She returned with a pitcher of juice. “Mom doesn’t like cleaning and Dad just can’t—he makes more of a mess if he tries. Anyhow, she’s never really here, so they hired a nice lady to pick and clean.” A tint of purple appeared on the pegasus’ cheeks before she spun around and left to retrieve some cups. “Oh, you’re lucky. We spend a lot of time cleaning at home. And it still looks like a mess in the end. Mommy’s not the clean sort, I guess,” Dinky commented as she raised the pitcher with a bit of her magic and poured them two glasses. “Yeah, that must suck, spending so much time with your mom like that.” She grabbed one of the cups and began sipping at it. “Tell ya what!” She suddenly perked. “How about I finish showing you my bows? Last time your mom sorta interrupted and I didn’t get a chance to show off.” Shouldn’t we do our homework first? Although, to be perfectly honest, I’m in no mood to do that either. “Is this part of the ‘fun’ you promised you would teach me? Because playing before our work is complete seems rather, well, immature.” She played with the rim of her still-full glass then looked around the immaculate room once more. Something was off about it and she could not quite put her hoof on what. “Dinky, I won’t even pretend to know what him-manure is, but I do know that fun is an important part of... fun-ness and that maximum levels of fun should be had all the time. Come on, let’s go have some fun right now.” She hopped off the table, abandoning the pitcher and her cup on the counter as she headed to the back door. Dinky levitated the half-full container over and, with a bit of mindwork, opened the fridge to place it within. “Wait, Archer!” “What’s up?” the filly asked from the entranceway, a brow arching up her forehead. “Well, after we’re done playing, will we work a little? I mean, you don’t want to have your bows confiscated because of low grades, right?” She stepped back from the table and made her way around it, her horn skimming by the surface like the fin of a shark. With a roll of her eyes, Archer replied, “Yeah, sure. After we play,” before turning around and prancing outside. Dinky, only a few steps behind, paused before exiting the home, taking the time to give the room one last glance. Finally, she found what was wrong with it. There was no life. Only an empty shell. Plenty of clean things, but no pictures and no little decorations. Just clean counters and spotless floors. Suppressing a shudder, Dinky trotted out of the house, welcoming the fresh, pre-evening air as it filled her lungs. Her friend was already halfway to the back shed, her wings stretching out on either side to catch the sun’s light, turning both of them into indistinct aquamarine forms made of a thousand feathers. “It’s perfect for shooting today,” she called out. “No wind or anything, and the sun’s above us, so we won’t be blinded.” She folded her wings back in, ending the illusion. The shed’s door creaked melancholically, as if it objected to being prised open by the filly. Arriving by the entrance, Dinky caught a whiff of oils and wood as the odour of Archer’s shed poured out. A beam of light slashed through the room, marked  by the shadows of two fillies that became long, indistinct forms on the wooden floor. All else was hidden in the darkness until Archer flicked a switch with her wing-tip. As the light bulb buzzed to life, the room came alive, light glinting off of sharpened arrowheads and the waxed surface of a dozen bows. Every usable surface was covered in cloths and tools and coils of wire; even the occasional, though rare, book was present, all dealing with archery. The shed was a real home, Dinky concluded. “Here, this one ought to do,” Archer said as she trotted along the row of hung bows and stopped at one of them. Rearing up, she grabbed the would-be weapon with a gentle clasp of her teeth and pulled it off the rack. “Ish a ghood one.” She walked by Dinky, drool slipping out of the side of her mouth as she gave her friend a lopsided grin, tilting her head so as to pass by the filly. “Come hon. Oh, and hrab shome harrosh!” A moment later, the two found themselves a dozen paces from the shed’s side, a pile of blunt-tipped arrows at their hooves, and a long yew bow strung and ready to fire held by Archer’s wings. “All right. So, this took me a little while to learn, but I’m sure you’ll catch on right-quick. Being the world’s best archer means that it’s super easy for me to impart my mad skills on my lowly students.” “Well, okay?” Dinky said as she eyed the long piece of curved wood. Reservations about the whole thing started to build up within her, but she quelled them with a deep swallow and a tiny huff. “‘Kay, first, you need to nock an arrow. To do that you grab the bit with the fletching and place it against the nocking point on the string.” With a surprisingly dextrous usage of her wingtips, Archer pulled up the bow then slid an arrow on, as she had instructed. “The next bit’s the hard one. You need to stand up and press a forehoof against the shaft and another on the length of the string. I use my wings to keep me standing, like this.” She stood, her entire body erect in front of Dinky. The bow had become part of her, a long slice of wood extending vertically in front of the pony, bent back and tense under the strain she applied with an almost gentle pull. Her mane dropped out and covered her shoulders, a helm that fluctuated and moved with every soothing breath she took. Her wings, both fanned out behind her for stability, moved with ethereal slowness, as if they had a calm life of their own along the filly’s back. “Then, you draw, and fire,” she whispered. With a slicing sound, the arrow left its place along the string and zipped through the air, smashing into the dead centre of the bull’s eye painted on the shed’s side with a dull thud. They looked at the shaft as it quivered in place, both of them exhaling a sigh at the same time. Dinky spoke first. “That was incredible, Archer! Do you really think that I could do that?” Dropping back down to all fours, Archer shrugged. “Don’t know, but I’m sure that I can give you a good head start.” With an almost timid push of her hoof, Archer moved the bow over to Dinky. “Here, just hold it up like I showed you.” “B-but you used your wings to keep balance... I don’t think I could do that....” “Just, use your magic, or something.” “Well, all right. Let’s try this.” With a little bit of reservation, Dinky picked up the bow, fumbling around with it until she had it in a firm enough grip. Then, she reared up onto her hind legs, wobbling to and fro, before she let out a burst of stabilizing magic that held her anchored to the spot. Archer beamed at her, eyes shining and reflecting the purple-ish glow of Dinky’s magic. “You’re doing great,” she said as she hoofed up an arrow. Dinky took the piece of wood and, with much biting of the tip of her tongue and squinting, managed to nock the arrow while only dropping it twice. “Okay, so, how do I aim this thing?” she asked. “Never mind that. Just point it towards the centre of the shed. At this range you’ll have a hard time missing it. Now, pull back on the string until you feel the wood starting to bend. When you feel that it’s just the right amount of pressure, let go. It’s that easy.” Uh-huh. Easy, sure. She pulled back on the string, the muscles in her forehoof twitching and spasming as they worked in unfamiliar ways. Taking a breath and closing one eye, Dinky tried to aim the length of the arrow towards the bull’s eye. She let go. With a sound akin to a drop hitting water, the arrow plopped out of the bow and fell to the ground, not three paces from where Dinky stood. Its feathers shook, as if taunting Dinky. A few seconds passed as the two stared at the offensive object jutting out of the ground. “Wow, that was terrible!” Archer exclaimed, a slow smile cracking along her face. “Well, maybe you’re not all that good a teacher then?” Dinky snapped back, a smile of her own forming. “Hey!” she retorted in mock indignation. “Even I didn’t get it the first time around. Still wasn’t as bad as you are now. Let me show you how it’s done one last time....” Dinky trotted home, alone and tired to the bone. The sun had passed its zenith a few moments before, and was now beginning to plunge to the horizon, illuminating the path home on a warm, orange glow. The colour matched her well, she concluded. With a deep sigh, Dinky basked in the glow that radiated within her; not powerful as it once was, but recuperating. She didn’t need love when she had friendship. Maybe, just maybe, friendship was a form of love unto itself. The road home was short, and the weight of her saddlebag was hardly noticed by the skipping filly as she hopped from one grassy patch to another. In moments she was close enough to home to catch the faint whiffs of her mother’s cooking. Oh, we’re going to eat  wheatloaf muffins again! she thought with relish, inadvertently licking her lips. Speeding herself along, the filly reached the front door and practically exploded into the household, narrowly avoiding a few discarded pieces of clothing and trash that had found their way to the floor. “Hi, Mommy!” From the kitchen came the banging and thumping of pots and pans as they moved about. A grey head poked out from above the counter, one eye narrowing on the filly while the other left staring at the mess that covered the entire room. “Hello, my honey muffin. Did you have a good day at school? Mommy’s making your favourite!” With little ceremony, Dinky picked her backpack off of her back and flung it past the still-open door of her room. It landed on the bed with an omph like that of a teacher finding out that her tax reports were covered in smilie faces. “I had an okay day in school,” Dinky said as she rushed over to the kitchen. “But I had a lot more fun after school with Archer!” “Oh, and what did you two do?” The pegasus took a few moments to stare down at her child, the barest hint of a scowl appearing across her forehead. “Nothing bad, right?” “Well, no, nothing bad... yet.” I couldn’t possibly tell her about the bow and arrow thing, she’ll never let me see Archer again. “And, um, we did our homework together. Archer wants to have better grades so I encouraged her to study.” Humming to herself and nodding sagely, Derpy grabbed two mismatched plates from a cupboard and placed them on the tabletop. “That’s nice. Oh, you got some mail today! I delivered it myself.” Dinky’s ears perked up, and she followed her mother’s pointed directions to the table where a single, white letter sat untouched. Rushing over to it, she lifted the envelope with a twirl of her magic and held it out in front of her, reading the clumsy print of her name and address on the cover. “I’ll be in my room!” she called over her shoulder, the letter floating at her side as she made her way out of the kitchen. “Supper’s in ten, my muffin. If I have to call you twice you’re not eating,” Derpy said, the mock threat prying another smile out of her daughter. Trotting across her room and deftly avoiding the seemingly random piles of clothing and school work, she reached her bed and hopped up onto it. Twisting around until she was on her back and the letter was floating above her, Dinky bit her lip and began to peel it apart. “Oh, I really do hope it’s something good, right Leonore?” At her side, the beaten and raw plushie of a raven flopped onto its side and stared at her with its last remaining button-eye. “Right, let’s open it up and find out, shall we?” Biting down on her tongue as if that would help in any way, Dinky frowned at the hastily licked-together edge of the letter, and tore it apart with quasi-reckless abandon. Out came a sheet of slightly crumpled paper that she unfolded. On it was written: Dear Dinky, I just wanted to invite you over to a little party that were going to have at my place this weekend its going to be tons of fun and stuff hope you can come. Hope to see you there, —Rumble Slowly and ever so carefully, Dinky lowered the letter onto the soft surface of her bed. She stared at it, blinking only when her eyes began to sting before, with an outstretched hoof, she grabbed her precious plushie and hugged it tight. Her mother called, but the filly had long since lost her appetite.