//------------------------------// // Small Push // Story: A Second Chance // by nimaru //------------------------------// I woke with a start, but the nightmare was already forgotten; the only evidence the tear stains on the mattress and the coldness in my chest. As usual, Dusty was sleeping soundly by the window, twisted into a position that I couldn't imagine being comfortable. And as usual I quietly walked to the hall while magically folding my blanket and flipping the mattress over so its good side showed. Like every other day, I quietly walked out the front door and closed it behind me. And like every other day, I walked out into the square to clear my mind in the early morning air. Yes, it was just a normal day... so why couldn't I shake the sense of foreboding? As I trotted through the square, I felt a darkness creeping close. Not knowing where else to go, I ducked into a nearby alley. For the next minute, I struggled for control against... I had no idea what. I leaned against the wall and tried to breathe the way I'd been taught when dealing with stage fright, but the anxiety was so much more powerful; and getting worse. My mouth went dry and my chest felt tight; I began to sweat and when I willed my body to move, it didn't respond. Tears flowed unbidden and I began to hyperventilate. I opened my mouth to scream... "Miss Snow?" My breath caught, my muscles locked, and my vision blurred as I nearly passed out from the shock. But in moments both the fear subsided; the episode was over. I blinked hard and took a slow, stuttered breath before turning around. "Oh, hello!" I said, trying to sound natural. "Good morning Ash Carver." He stared for a moment then glanced around the alley before returning his gaze to me. "Are you alright?" he finally asked, clearly unconvinced by my act. "I'm fine!" I lied. "I just... ah... I had a bad dream is all and decided to go for a walk!" In the time since I first met him in the wood shop, Ash Carver had been one of the most polite and considerate ponies I’d met. But the intense way he stared at me… I felt his deep concern and gentle chiding for keeping my pain to myself. My resolve began to crumble… "Alright then," he finally replied. "Well your bowls are ready if you'd like.” "Yes of course!" I exhaled, happy to change the subject. "But is it ok to get them now? The woodshop isn’t even open yet.” "They've already been paid for and I can have them out for you immediately." "Ok Ash Carver. That would be wonderful." I smiled genuinely this time. He grinned encouragingly and set off for the wood shop. I followed, but trailed just behind, wanting a few moments to turn the event over in my mind. The nightmares had become a regular, if unwelcome, side effect of living in a dream, but what happened in the alley was entirely different. I lost it back there. If Ash Carver hadn’t come along… I shuddered. I’d never had a panic attack before and now that I knew just how terrifying they were, I never wanted to again. But what triggered it? Was it the nightmare? Even if I tried, I couldn’t recall anything but a feeling… fear of losing control, of being lost and helpless and of… of… I felt a chilly touch and the blood drained from my face. Another attack was slowly clasping itself around me. Reflexively, I reached my magic out to the nearby fountain and launched a bucket-full of water into my face. "M... Miss?" Ash Carver said, a good portion of his back and flank sopping wet. His eyes were wide as he silently questioned me about the unprovoked attack. "Oh! I'm so sorry Ash Carver!" I apologized awkwardly between chortles. "That was just supposed to be for me!" Despite my embarrassment and knowing full well how hard it is to accept an apology from someone who's laughing at you, I couldn’t hold back the giggles. "Call me Carver," he shrugged, turning towards the shop. "Shall we go? If you're done with your bath, that is," he said with a smile in his voice. I shook off the water and stepped up to pace him, relieved that he wasn't offended and, thanks to the sudden levity, feeling relaxed for the first time that day. ******************************* It was nearly mid-day. Normally, I’d be chatting with Dusty or one of the other talented craft-ponies of the square; watching them bend elements into form. Instead, I sat by the door and watched the slow-moving clouds crawl across the sky while the wind gently blew through the open shop doors. What I wanted most was to understand the morning’s events, but the memory was like a bruise that was painful to touch. Avoiding the issue seemed like the wrong thing to do, but I could feel the attack lurking and waiting to pounce if given the slightest invitation. I struggled to think of something to do to take my mind off of it. It was too early to clean and I’d already tended the garden. I could have gone for a walk, but lacked the energy. I thought about sleeping, but wasn’t the least bit tired. I thought I might cry, but felt emotionally dead inside. So I did the only thing I was able: I stared skyward and sighed. I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, fighting to find the motivation to do anything until… CLANK! "Snow!" My legs spasmed, flinging me to the ground in a heap. It took a few moments to coordinate my hooves properly and a few deep breaths to reign in my racing heartbeat. "Y..Yes?" I answered suspiciously. With barely contained mirth, Dusty said, "We’re running low on some things in the pantry and the weather’s nice. I was thinking about going to the market. Would you like to go?" Does the Princess raise the sun!? *************** I had always assumed that “I was stunned” and “it took my breath away” were just sayings; colorful metaphors people used for emphasis. But that was before I saw the “market”. On the left side of the street was a long row of shops and stalls overflowing with food and goods of all kinds. Many extended high into the sky to service the many pegasi who darted from place to place, balancing their wares expertly on their backs as they flew. The streets were similarly packed with ponies of all types and colors who made their way through the wide streets. Some carried or magically floated their parcels while others, most likely nobles, were trailed at a respectful distance by attendants who carried the burdens for them. On our right was an enormous park full of trees, grass and, beautiful stonework. Looking through the trees, I could see more shops and ponies on the other side and, though it was too long to see its furthest end, I imagined I’d see a similar view there. They should call it Market CITY! I thought with awe. But the hardest thing to describe, something I don’t think would be possible to convey in words, was the how inviting and harmonious it felt. Despite the crowds, it never seemed crowded. Despite the bustle, it wasn’t at all intimidating or stressful. Every pony looked relaxed, and happy; chatting amiably and going about their business or resting in the park. It took a while to get even a quarter of the way down the street, but Dusty wasn’t in any hurry and neither was I. I enjoyed seeing all the new things and meeting the ponies that Dusty introduced me to, but I found my attention constantly divided. A little way off, just inside the park, a sizable gathering of mares sat relaxing in the shade as they watched over their foals. The little ponies laughed and ran, chased and rolled; squealing happily. As I watched them, my legs started to feel tingly and twitchy and I felt a compulsive need to get a closer look. “Hey, Snow,” Dusty started. I snapped back to face her, hoping she hadn’t thought my inattention rude. “Why don’t you go find a place to sit over there,” she said, nodding towards the trees where the mothers lounged. “I’ll go get us some lunch and meet you.” It took extraordinary willpower not to bolt on the spot. “Ok, that sounds nice,” I said in a weak attempt to contain my enthusiasm. She smiled a little and headed off down the street. I only watched her for a moment before cantering as quickly as I could manage to the trees. As expected, the chattering mothers fell silent at my approach and stared. The polite thing to do would have been to introduce myself and go through the same boring conversations that I’d been repeating all day, but I was in a little bit of a hurry so I got right to the point instead. “Good afternoon!” I greeted them. “Would it be alright if I played too?” Most looked at me in confusion and a few stared shocked before whispering quietly to the others and pointing, but several looked questioningly at an Earth pony who sat near the center. The plain, but confident-looking pony locked eyes with me. I wasn’t sure what she was looking for so I waited politely, until my head involuntarily turned in the direction of joyous squeals. I looked back quickly, my ears dropping in embarrassment. Unphased, the stoic pony calmly glanced to the foals and then back to me with a strange grin. “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind having a big pony to play with.” She said. “Go right ahead.” The others, who had been waiting for their apparent leader’s decision, relaxed. A few smiled encouragingly and the rest returned to their chat. “Thank you!” I said, nodding as I walked. The leader nodded in returned and watched as I walked out into the sunny field. I briefly wondered what that had been about, but playful noises would not be ignored. I increased my pace and soon found myself face-to-face with many little ponies who clearly found “a big white pony” more interesting than the game they’d been playing. If normal ponies were adorable and cuddly, these were at least twice that. They were all colorful and unique, but shared several traits: they were small, fluffy, and stared at me with innocent curiosity. The urge to pounce on them was so strong, that I quickly sat down lest I give in to the temptation. “Hi!” I said. “You don’t have a cutie mark!” a pink-maned filly said from behind me. “Why not?” I giggled. She was so adorable, I could barely stand it. “Well little one, I don’t really know what my special talent is yet.” An older grey-maned foal scowled at the response. “You’re too old to not have a cutie mark. Are you slow or something?” Years of living with a younger brother taught me exactly how to respond. “Oh yes!” I chirped. I’m pretty slow. In fact, “I bet you could run much faster than I can!” He looked offended that I had “misunderstood” him, but I stood up before he could correct me. The little ponies who had crowded around backed up in response. “So what do you say?” I challenged. “Do you want to race?” He briefly looked shocked, but then made a determined face and took off for a giant tree. I struck out with a strong canter and the others were quick to follow, squealing and laughing in delight. Though they were much smaller, all of them beat me easily except the little yellow-maned one who, even though he fell down several times along the way, still arrived before I did. The others cheered when I finally arrived, but grey-mane scowled again. “You don’t have to go easy on us.” I was so enamored with a green-maned foal who was tugging fearlessly on my long tail that I almost forgot to answer. “I… uh. What do you mean?” I asked distractedly. “You didn’t even gallop. You weren’t running as hard as you could.” “But I don’t know how to gallop,” I confessed, giving him my full attention. “I never had the chance to learn.” A few of the little ponies looked at me sadly, while others; especially grey-mane; looked skeptical. “What!?” he exclaimed. “That’s not true!” “It is!” I smiled. “I know it seems unlikely, but I bet you’ve never seen a pony as big as me without a cutie mark either” I continued, raising my flank up and wiggling it for all to see. Most of them nodded as their doubt faltered, but not grey-mane, who’s stubborn face made his disbelief obvious. I giggled. He really did remind me of my brother. “You knoooow…” I started slyly, “you really are a fast little pony. Maybe you could teach me!” His face broadcasted his distrust, but he took a small step forward anyway; betraying his inner feelings. It wasn’t long until I had him giving lessons; with him barking impatient instructions and demonstrating “how easy it is” over and over. The others were really into it too, pacing alongside me when I ran and shouting encouragements when I fell. It took some work to get the coordination down, but I finally got it and was able to run a fair distance at gallop. I turned to grey-mane. “I’m ready for a rematch! Just you and me this time. What do you say?” “You’re on,” he said without hesitation. Moments later, we stood side by side at some arbitrary starting line while one of the others told us the “rules”: To the giant tree and back. Whoever was first was the winner. “Oooonee… Twooo… threeeee… GO!” And we were off. I quickly left the little guy in the dust, but when I neared the tree, I stumbled a bit and had to slow down. As I rounded it, grey-mane was right on top of me. With a slight adjustment to my gait and a straight path back to the cheering little ponies, I let loose and bolted as fast as I could. Just like with my brother, I wasn’t going to let him win unless he earned it. But in a flash, I forgot all about the race. The wind blew my hair back as I sprinted, and everything blurred around me, my hooves moving so fast that it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds before I reached the finish line. It was so exhilarating and I couldn’t help but squeal and prance in place as grey-mane arrived looking dejected. “That was SO MUCH FUN!” I exclaimed. “Well, you won,” he griped. “But you taught me,” I reasoned. “Yeah…” he said begrudgingly. “AND you nearly caught me by the tree” “You stumbled…” he objected weakly. I looked at him and his blank flank and a thought suddenly occurred to me. “You know,” I said. “You never told me your name. I’m Snow.” “I’m Dart Hoof,” he said with a little smile. I thought as much, I thought smugly. “Well Dart Hoof, I want to thank you! I’ve never been able to run like that before and I really, honestly loved it. Don’t you think running is fun?” “Yeah!” he piped. Then he looked away sadly and added, “But it’s not useful.” It was odd, but when he said that, his voice sounded like someone else’s. Someone older with an edge of criticism in his voice. “Not useful!?” I exclaimed. “What about messenger ponies?” “They’re all pegasus ponies. Don’t you know anything?” he criticized. “Nonsense!” I admonished. “There could never be enough pegasus ponies to deliver ALL the messages in the whole city. Besides, what about the pony scouts who watch for trouble around the city? If they weren’t there, who’d make sure that everything and everypony is safe?” “But the pegasus guards do that too!” he said, nearly in tears. It was clear as a mountain stream that he had been through this very conversation before with someone else. Someone who didn’t believe in his talent. My heart and my hooves reached out to him. I pulled him close and though the others were watching, he didn’t resist. And then I sang: You with the sad eyes Don't be discouraged Though I realize It's hard to take courage In a world full of ponies You can lose sight of it all And the darkness there inside you Make you feel so small Like before in the garden, the song extended out with a purity and strength that was palpable. I closed my eyes. If this world makes you crazy You've taken all you can bear You call me up Because you know I'll be there I knew the frustration and pain he felt; The poor little foal felt passion, but not the freedom to use it. I tightened my embrace, trying to convey feelings of encouragement from the bottom of my heart as I sang. But I see your true colors Shinin' through I see your true colors And that's why I love you So don't be afraid to let them show Your true colors True colors, …are beautiful, Like a rainbow. *************** The song ended, but he didn’t budge and, caught in the moment, neither did I. I hoped that I managed to ease the pain of the soft heartbeat I could feel in his chest. “Oh Dart Hoof... In this world, the thing that you love most is always right for you. Even if you can’t see it right away. Besides…” I said as I opened my eyes and nuzzled his soft mane. “... pegasus guards can’t see through trees can they? Who’s going to scout down in the valleys and forests if not fast runners like you?” He stiffened. Afraid I’d said something wrong, I let him go and leaned back. He took a few steps forward, his back to me, his head hanging. All the little ponies and I stared; afraid to break the uncomfortable silence. He raised his head and looked at the sky and took a deep breath. And then, with a bright flash, his cutie mark appeared.