The world around her melted into a blur as anger lent speed to Ink Blot’s hooves. Trees raced by, followed by houses and buildings as they headed into town. Silently blessing her keen eyes and earth pony roots, Ink Blot darted in between various townsponies she might otherwise have run headlong into with surprising agility, then continued on past town hall, and over the bridge on the far side.
The landscape sloped up a bit as they neared the old Sweet Apple Acres ranch. As she passed by a particular length of fence, Ink Blot slowed to a trot. There, lacquered and polished to look as fresh as if it had been done yesterday, was a painting she’d made for the Apple family reunion.
She’d completely forgotten about it. It depicted the whole Apple Family—Ink Blot and her mother included—though in Ink Blot’s unique style. She’d painted her mother and herself sharing a plate of apple fritters, dancing in a balloon shaped inflatable pool. Next to the pool, Apple Bloom was aiming an apple cannon at her sister, who was focused on holding up an apple shaped piñata.
Ink Blot stopped to admire it. The colors were bright, and accented each other to create a warm effect. A tear escaped her eyes as she remembered how she and her mother used to get along so smoothly. Where and when had they drifted apart?
Ink Blot’s thoughts were interrupted by a screech from Peewee as he swooped between her and the painting. Oh, right. She’d completely forgotten. He hung there in the air for a few moments, as though waiting for her to give chase again. Ugh, that darn bird just could not stop tormenting her could he?
The chase continued, but now led into the Everfree. As she ran through the edge of the trees, Ink Blot momentarily recalled what her mother had said earlier that morning. Sorry, mom. Not happening. She felt a grim satisfaction that defying her mother was somewhat justified by Peewee’s theft of her brush, but pushed it aside as she now had to focus on not running into trees, as well as catching that darned bird.
Now that Peewee had to maneuver and avoid branches, Ink Blot had the advantage. She’d run through here many times during various escapades, and her hooves knew the terrain well, provided her eyes could keep up. They usually could, and this was no exception.
Rocks, logs and fallen tree limbs shot by underhoof—and occasionally overhead—in an overall green blur as Ink Blot honed in on the fleeing scarlet tail. Her ears were bent fully back and her jaw set as she raced on. The phoenix took a moment to stare back under its belly at its pursuer, looseing a trilling cry that sounded somewhat like a laugh. With a few flaps of its wings, it flew higher, climbing up above the treeline, out of sight.
“Huh?”
Ink Blot dug in her hooves and skidded to a halt, bringing the trees back into focus. Damn that bird. Now that she was in the woods, there was no way she could see where he’d gone. She’d just have to make her way back to town and hope Spike could get her brush back.
~ ~ ~
The filly sighed in defeat and turned back the way she’d come. The trees had grown thick, and the underbrush was mostly strangled by the brambles that seemed to run everywhere. The tree canopy was so tightly knit that even with the sun at its highest, it felt like twilight down at the forest floor.
“Got it! Who-oah!”
Ink Blot whipped her head around and stared upward at the sound of Rainstream’s voice from above the treeline. Had she come to help? Ink Blot took off in the direction of the sound.
“Oof!” Forgetting to watch where her hooves were going, Ink Blot tripped over a mess of brambles and fell down a short embankment, landing face first in some sort of viney blue plant.
Shaking the stars out of her eyes, as well as a few blue leaves, she picked herself up off the ground and looked around to find the cause of her loss of footing. Brambles! No, not quite. They resembled brambles, but the leaves betrayed their true nature. Poison joke. Great. Now she’d end up with leaves as a mane or something for the next week or so.
“Look out below!”
Ink Blot looked up to see her friend crashing through the tree canopy in a fully vertical dive. Just beneath her was a small glittery object, her hooves stretched toward it. The brush! Demonstrating her expert flying skills, Rainstream snatched the brush a few meters off the ground and immediately snapped open her wings, landing gracefully in the blue leaves next to Ink Blot.
“Got it!” Rainstream grinned triumphantly and held up her prize. “Silly bird couldn’t out fly me. Here you go.” She held out the little treasure to Ink Blot, her grin relaxing to a fond smile.
“Oh, thanks so much, Rain,” Ink Blot replied, grabbing the brush and hugging it to her chest. “I thought I’d never get it back.”
Rainstream laughed. “Well, just get that painting done and we’ll call it even, okay?” She flapped her wings and took off, preparing to leave..
“Deal,” Ink Blot replied, smiling. “Although, you should probably come with me to Zecora’s for some poison joke cure before you head off.”
Rainstream stopped and turned around. “Poison whatnow?”
“Ink Blot rolled her eyes. “Blue leaves? The stuff we’re covered in? You mean to tell me you’ve never heard of Poison Joke?” She raised an eyebrow.
Rainstream simply shook her head and shrugged slightly. “We don’t have it where I’m from. Is it dangerous?” She looked herself over as though searching for some sort of marking.
“Nah, it just causes some silly effects,” Ink Blot replied shaking her head. “But I’d rather not flop around for a week if I can help it. It’s best to get it washed off with a special tonic bath.”
Rainstream sucked on her lower lip and narrowed her eyebrows. After a moment, she shook her head, and flew backwards a bit. “M-mm. Sorry, Ink, but I don’t know this Zecora yet. I think I’ll just sleep it off and deal with it for now.” She yawned. “I’m getting tired anyway. I don’t think I slept much last night. See you later.” She turned and disappeared through the canopy.
“Whatever,” Ink Blot muttered, sulking off in the direction she knew the old zebra’s hut to be.
“She’ll figure it out sooner or later.”
~ ~ ~
The way back toward the forest path was a bit slow going due to the dim light, but Ink Blot eventually managed to pick her way out of the brambles and into a more open undergrowth. Little pink ferns and red mushrooms littered the ground—all sorts of odd stuff grew out here.
She stooped to prod one of the little mushrooms, noticing the intricate pattern of spots peppered across its head. It wiggled a bit, and Ink Blot drew back. Then it spouted some red mist, and turned blue. Obviously the mist was to deter anything trying to harm the fungus. If she hadn’t drawn back, Ink Blot imagined the mist may have had a painful effect. Instead it drifted harmlessly to the ground and disappeared.
Things out here weren’t exactly dangerous, the way her mother kept saying they were. Just… odd. If one kept a sharp eye out, it wasn’t really so bad.
“Hey there, Ink Blot.”
“Gyah!” Ink Blot jumped up and spun around in the air, to find Apple Bloom standing behind her. “Wow, you’re quiet,” she said, trying to suppress her rapid breathing.
“Sorry,” The farmer replied, “I didn’t mean to startle you, I was just wandering by and happened to notice you prodding that fire mushroom. What brings you way out here?”
“Oh, that.” Ink Blot rolled her eyes. “Spike’s dumb bird stole this brush, so I had to chase him down and get it back.” She pulled out the brush for demonstration, then tucked it away again. Apple Bloom nodded in recognition of the brush, but kept listening. “I chased him way out by the old barn, and nearly caught up to him when we ran into the woods, but he cheated and flew up above the trees.”
Apple Bloom’s eyes grew wide. “The old barn?.“Which old barn?”
Ink Blot shook a hoof dismissively “Just the one from the reunion a few years ago. When I painted that mural of everypony on the fence?” Apple Bloom relaxed a bit, nodding, so Ink Blot went on.
“He might’ve gotten away too if Rain hadn’t helped me out.” She kicked at the ground, disappointed that she’d needed help to chase the phoenix down.
Apple Bloom blinked. “The weather pony?” She looked around, mostly gazing up. “I don’t see her, where’d she go?”
Ink Blot shrugged. “We fell in some poison joke, but she didn’t want to see Zecora about it. She’s kinda shy around ponies she doesn’t know. She’ll probably figure it out by tomorrow and come ask for help anyway.” She trotted around Apple Bloom and off in the direction the farmer had come from.
“Poison joke? Out here?”
She sounded concerned. Ink Blot stopped and turned around. Apple Bloom looked as though she’d seen a ghost. Her face was white and her eyes stared blankly into the space in front of her.
Ink Blot frowned. “Yeah. It’s just poison joke. It’s pretty common out here in the Everfree. Nothing worth worrying about.”
Apple Bloom bit her lip for a moment, “Yeah, I guess. We should get you to Zecora’s. It’s just up ahead.”
~ ~ ~
It took over an hour to reach the hut—they must have been farther out than Ink Blot realized—and Apple Bloom kept looking back over her shoulder every few minutes. What was she so worried about? It wasn’t like something had followed them. Ink Blot pricked her ears, but couldn’t hear anything behind them.
Ink Blot hadn’t actually been to the old zebra’s hut before. She’d just heard about it from her mom. It was supposed to be super spooky looking, to scare away bad spirits, but the herbalist herself was supposed to actually be quite friendly.
The hut itself was only a bit scary, but then again, Ink Blot’s mother had always scared easily. It did look somewhat like a face though, but Ink Blot was more impressed that the hut was actually carved out of a very old tree, and blended very naturally with its surroundings.
They walked around to the other side and Apple Bloom pushed open the door. “Come on, Ink. Let’s get you fixed up.”
The room appeared larger on the inside than the outside and was filled with odd assortments of strange and foreign artwork hanging from the walls. There was a cauldron over a fire in the middle of the room, which put out an odd stench. Ink Blot wrinkled her nose at it.
An old zebra whom Ink Blot assumed to be Zecora was mixing some spices on a nearby table, pausing every few moments to scribble some notes on a piece of parchment next to them. On her flank was a dark swirl pattern—her cutie mark. It somewhat resembled a sun, but might have been a flower. She put down what she was doing upon their arrival and turned to greet them.
“Welcome, my friends. What brings you back here? Has something foul befallen you, my dear?” She regarded Ink Blot with the last line. Ink Blot stared back, just now noticing the intricate nature of the stripes upon the old zebra’s face. They had seemed so simple before, but in the dancing light of the fire beneath the cauldron, they came alive. Apple Bloom must have grown impatient in her silence, because she spoke up instead.
“She found a patch of poison joke, back there.” Apple Bloom pointed back in the direction she’d found Ink Blot. “I’d rather not take chances again. Mind whipping us up a special batch?”
The old Zebra followed her hoof for a moment, eyebrows drawn tight in a puzzled expression. Then her eyes snapped wide in sudden realization. She took a step backward, jaw dropping open. Then she calmed and steadied herself, and turned to look at Ink Blot, “A batch of brew, I will create, to save you from a silly fate, but be more careful where you fall,” Zecora stopped, and looked right into Ink Blot’s eyes as she continued. “Some jokes do not amuse at all.”
Ink Blot quivered under her intense gaze, and took a step behind Apple Bloom’s hoof. The old zebra could truly be intimidating when she wanted to.
~ ~ ~
Zecora spent the better part of an hour adding various spices to the cauldron. Apple Bloom kept asking Zecora if she was certain about adding—or sometimes not adding—a particular herb. The Zebra seemed confident in what she was doing, although her coat glistened a bit more than usual since she’d begun brewing whatever cure was intended for Ink Blot.
“What’s all the fuss?” Ink Blot asked, causing Apple Bloom and Zecora to look up from their work. “It’s just poison joke, right? My mom said she ran into it back when Miss Twilight first came to Ponyville. Isn’t it harmless?”
Apple Bloom and Zecora exchanged pained looks, then Apple Bloom tightly formed a smile and stepped forward.
“Well, it is, but the plant’s changed a bit over the years, so Twilight and I have been helping Zecora keep the formula updated. Twilight just dropped this one off earlier, so it’s a new recipe.” She pointed to the parchment on the table, then quickly turned back to what she was doing. “It’s almost done, too. Just a few more ingredients.”
She began measuring out a few more herbs, while Zecora extinguished the fire.
“And now my dear, it is time for you to have a bath of curing brew,” Zecora mused, tapping the rim of the cauldron.
No bath this time, just straight poison joke cure? Was it some sort of super poison joke or something? Ink Blot raised an eyebrow, but Apple Bloom gave her a nudge.
“You really should,” she said, dropping the last few items into the pot.
With the fire put out, Ink Blot wouldn’t cook, but it still seemed like an awful lot of fuss over something so small. Well, if Apple Bloom trusted her, perhaps Ink Blot should to. Reluctantly, she obliged hopping up onto the rim of the cauldron and balancing lightly on the edge.
The brew was thick and bubbly, and gave off a foul smell. It was pale green in color—and mostly translucent—but despite the smell, seemed rather inviting. She allowed herself to slide into it and was surprised by the sensation. It was rather nice; the hot liquid soaked into her coat and felt soothing against her skin. Apple Bloom and Zecora left as soon as she climbed in, giving her a bit of privacy while she soaked. She relaxed and let her head dip beneath the surface, blowing bubbles in the thick soup.
Well, she’d certainly have a story to tell dad when she got home. Not that he was going to find out about this. After a while, it became cold enough that Ink Blot had to climb out. The cure had become a sickly, dark swamp green, and clung to her coat like mud.
“Yuck!”
She shook most of it off, but would have to have a proper bath to wash off the rest of it. Ink Blot took a step outside and looked around. It was impossible to tell what time of day it was in the dim light, but any light at all meant that it wasn’t getting dark yet. Good. She still had some of her day left. Apple Bloom and Zecora still hadn’t returned, but Ink Blot didn’t need them. She made a mental note to thank Zecora for the curing bath later—strange as it had been—and headed off down the path toward Ponyville.
She passed a patch or two of poison joke along the way, but was careful to avoid it this time. It was astounding that she’d managed to fall into it at all without knowing, seeing how bright the leaves were. They were such a rich hue that they nearly glowed in the dim light filtering through the treetops. A familiar urge struck her, and she put on a burst of speed only an earth pony could produce—straight home to her painting supplies.
~ ~ ~
As she came speeding out of the trees on the edge of the Everfree, Ink Blot noticed her chase had taken her far out past town. She emerged onto a hill that overlooked the town, and beyond it, near the horizon, was another hill overlooking the town, atop which sat Pink Apple Manor. She stopped for a moment to admire the view, then remembered her quest—and her filth—and resumed the race home.
She made a wide arc around town, not wanting anypony to see her covered in thick mud like this. Not that they’d notice anyway, not at this speed. Hills and trees traced by streams raced by for about ten minutes, until the house finally came into view.
“Hey there, Ink Blot. Watcha doing?”
As her mother’s voice came suddenly out of nowhere, Ink Blot nearly tripped over her own hooves. She turned to see her mother—the only pony who could match her for speed—running along side her effortlessly as though they were simply standing next to each other. The pair of them skidded to a halt just outside their front gate, which of course had to be painted bubblegum pink with tiny party balloons, cupcakes, and confetti plastered everywhere. It was like one of her mother’s parties had puked on it, and no one had bothered to clean up the mess.
“MO-OM!” Ink Blot whined. “Will you cut that out?”
Her mother responded by tackle-hugging her to the ground.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re home safe. I was so worried.” Her mother’s thick pink curls drew back to reveal her teary but smiling face. Ink Blot sighed and rolled her eyes.
“Mom, I was only gone for a few hours. Do we have to do this every time I leave the house?”
Her mother stood up off of her, but continued her onslaught of affection by hugging Ink Blot tightly again.
“Oh, but you’re my favorite little me, and I get worried about you.” She mercifully let Ink Blot go and simply stared at her with glossy eyes. “After I finished the cupcakes the Cakes ordered, I headed into town. Applejack mentioned she’d seen you by the old barn, and I know it’s old and rotting so I ran to see if you were okay but you weren’t there, so I looked all over Ponyville for you, and I even asked Miss Cheerilee where you might be, but she didn’t know. Then I checked all your favorite murals, and asked Fluttershy if you’d gone by the cottage. Then I saw you running back here so I came to see if you were alright, and here you are. Oh, I’m so glad you’re okay.” She hugged Ink Blot again, this time squeezing her very tightly. She sniffed back a few tears, then looked Ink Blot over thoroughly, who rolled her eyes again.
“And you’re all covered in this icky muck. What were you doing? Trying to play with Fluttershy’s pigs?”
Ink Blot shook herself, then headed off into the house. “I fell in some poison joke, then—”
“Poison Joke?!” Her mother stood straight up, staring wide eyed into blank space for a moment. “Ooh, let’s get you into a bath right away. I keep a poison joke remedy ready in the bath room for just such an emergency.” She began swiftly pushing Ink Blot toward the house, who dug in her hooves, pushing up piles of dirt and leaving long tracks behind.
“MOM! I’m fine! I found Zecora and she had me take this weird bath. That’s why I’m covered in muck!” Despite her efforts, Ink Blot was offering little resistance to her mother’s pushing—the muck in question, despite the blow dry it should have received by her rush home, was still slick like grease on her pink coat.
“Well, we should still get you a bath to wash all that stuff off,” her mother continued, not even straining to speak. “Come on, I’m sure Gummi would love to join you.”
~ ~ ~
As much as she hated having her mother fuss over her like this, Ink Blot did want a bath, and if Pinkamena Pie wasn’t the best pony in equestria at preparing a soothing bubble bath next to the spa twins, her pet alligator, Gummi, certainly was.
Being the best friend and companion of the mare of the house, Gummi had taken it upon himself to take care of the household, and had already prepared a steamy bubbly bath when Ink Blot and her mother walked in. How he knew she’d wanted a bath was a mystery to Ink Blot, but her mother had a rather odd gift of foresight, and must have arranged the bath before she’d come looking for her.
Being that it was more of a small, shallow swimming pool than a bathtub, there was plenty of room for Gummi—even with his large size—to join them. He wasn’t a baby anymore; alligators grew slower than ponies, but they still grew up in a small matter of years, unlike dragons, who could remain baby sized for the entire life of a pony. He slid into the pool and disappeared beneath the surface.
The sight of the bath itself was too much to resist, and Ink Blot instantly dropped onto her forehooves, then bounded forward. Her mother matched her step, and the two of them dove into the pool in near perfect unison. A loud “Whee!” echoed around the room as they flew through the air. Popping up amidst a sea of bubbles, Ink Blot found the side and relaxed against the smooth wall of the overlarge tub and let the steaming water soak in.
This was probably the only time when it was difficult to tell her and her mother apart. In fact, if not for Ink Blot’s green eyes, and shorter mane, it would be impossible. Ink Blot’s mane came to the water’s surface while her head was above the water, but her mother’s usually curly mane straightened out in the hot, steamy water, revealing just how long it truly was, and creating a river of pink in the white bubbles that surrounded it.
It reminded Ink blot of a drawing she’d made before she learned how to paint. It had been of herself, rolling in a field of hot pink grass, with trees of a much lighter shade growing everywhere. From their tops flowed silky strands of a darker pink, and the sky was made up of two very blue eyes—Her mother’s eyes.
The memory nearly made Ink Blot cry, but she was broken from her reverie by Gummi, who had snuck up on her under the water and now lifted her up on his snout, so that she appeared to be sitting directly on the surface.
“Looks like Gummi wants to play, hee hee!”
Her mother began moving toward them through the water, splashing playfully along the way. Using his tail, Gummi propelled himself and Ink Blot through the water, churning it up and leaving a distinct wake behind them.
It was a short lived bliss, but it was one of the rare times when Ink Blot’s mother was not completely unbearable. Quickly growing bored with just splashing around, Ink Blot escaped to the small, more actual bathtub-like section of the “tub” to keep from revealing how close to tears she was. Her mother was having too much fun splashing to notice.
This secondary part was actually used for cleaning, and was closed off from the main part of the tub by a low, underwater wall. It even had waterjets and vents for washing away dirt and filth so it didn’t enter the main pool. And the main part really should classify as a shallow pool, being that it was large enough to swim around in, but it was all in the washroom, and it was all heated, so it was all called the “bath tub”.
Ink Blot relaxed into the cleaning tub and began to scrub herself down, cleaning off every last bit of that mucky slop Zecora had made her soak in.When she was finished, she climbed out, shook herself off, and dove back into the main soaking area. Gummi came up and gave her face a lick.
“Haha, Gummi, stop! that tickles!” she laughed.