The air choked her as she breathed in its heat.
I don’t have to be afraid of you anymore.
The small room was hot, burning, confining. She had to get out.
I don’t have to be afraid of you anymore.
Those laughing eyes, taunting her.
You’re just a dumb bully!
The crackle of the flame behind her, the smell of smoke. Tears stung her eyes as she bashed the door.
“Let me out!” Cotton screamed. She continued bucking her back legs against the door. “Let me out let me out let me out!”
Her breathing increased rapidly, and her head spun. The clawing heat in the room tore at her; she couldn’t pull her eyes away from the roaring fire.
I don’t have to be afraid of you anymore.
The dam broke, and Cotton fell to the ground, sobbing.
“I—I don’t have to b-be afraid of you anymore,” she repeated to herself, over and over.
Ж
“I’ve gotta go to the little fillies' room. I’ll see you in class.” Cotton waved to Tesla as she turned towards the fillies' restroom.
Lunchtime had been fun today. She’d excitedly told all of her friends about her trip to Ponyville, her meeting with two of the Elements of Harmony, and her induction into the Cutie Mark Crusaders. The five foals played on the swing set, taking turns pushing each other, as they regaled one another with what they’d done on their holiday.
Fortunately, Boulder also ignored them today. Brick was away with the feather flu, and Boulder tended to leave others alone when his dim-witted backup wasn’t around.
Moments later, Cotton stepped out from the restroom into the hall, making her way back to the classroom. Thoughts of the trip to Ponyville filled her head; she closed her eyes and remembered playing in the snow on a warm summer’s day. The epic war between the forces of Crusadia and Discordia, and the funny song their bard, Allegrezza, had sung upon their victory. She closed her eyes and spread her wings, remembering the feel of the air rushing against her face as she flew on her dad’s back.
“Oof!” a masculine voice let out, as she collided with somepony. “Watch where you’re going, stupid.”
Cotton opened her eyes, embarrassed at having crashed into somepony. “S-sorry.”
“Toasty?” Boulder got to his hooves, brushed himself off, then turned to her with a sneer. “I thought you were crispy, not blind.”
“I-I said I was sorry,” Cotton replied, trying to step around him.
“You think you can just push me around and get away with it?” Boulder stepped forward, pressing against Cotton.
“I-I don’t have to be afraid of you anymore.”
“What?”
“Dad said I don’t have to be afraid of you.” Cotton stood her ground. “If you push me around, I-I’ll tell Mrs. Withers on you.”
“Oh, will you?” Cotton tried not to shrink back at the malice in his voice.
“You’re just a bully. I don’t have to be afraid of you anym—” A painful pressure closed Cotton’s muzzle, stopping her from speaking. The pressure made it hard to breath; she had to fight for each breath through her nostrils. Boulder turned from her, a smirk across his face, his horn glowing with a pale-green aura. The pressure pulling on her muzzle, forcing her to follow him in pain.
She fought back, but each time she pulled against him, the pressure increased, bringing tears to her eyes. Resigned, she followed him until they reached the door to the basement.
No-no-no-no-no-no-no-NO-we’re-not-allowed-down-there!
Panic set in as she watched him open the door and descend the stairs, her eyes darting left and right as she prayed for a teacher to find her. She fought with everything she had, but her hooves couldn’t gain purchase on the slick tile floor of the hallway. She fell painfully down the stairs as Boulder dragged her along.
“You’ll love it down here, Toasty.” Boulder dragged the filly across the hall to a closed door. Panic welled in Cotton’s chest as she read the sign adorning the door.
Furnace Room. Authorized Entry Only.
Cotton bucked with all her might, trying to escape Boulder’s magical grasp in vain. He opened the door, and tossed Cotton inside.
“Let’s see how brave you really are,” Boulder laughed as he closed the door.
Ж
“Let me out!” Cotton screamed again, bashing her hooves against the door. She had heard Boulder leave, his hooves clacking on the stairs as he ascended.
She tried to open the door, but Boulder had locked it from the other side before he left.
Her hooves ached, swollen and sore from bucking at the door, while her heart continued its allegretto in her chest.
Her eyes continued to flick towards the furnace, the heat and sparks pouring out the grate, overwhelming her with the urge to run.
Panic held her tighter than any magic aura could. She struggled to pull herself into the corner of the room furthest away from the fire. Cotton laid on her side on the floor, the coal dust blackening her side; she curled into a fetal position, hugging her legs close to her chest.
Ж
Mrs. Withers looked up from her desk to the clock on the wall. Lunch time had ended twenty minutes ago, yet there was no sign of Cotton Candy.
“Has anypony seen Cotton Candy since lunch?” she asked the class.
The foals, who had their heads down and were working in relative silence, looked up towards their teacher, muttering ‘no’s’ and ‘not since lunch, Miss’, though one filly’s hoof shot up.
“I saw her just before the bell rang, Miss,” Tesla answered, bouncing in her seat. “She was going to the restroom, Miss.”
Mrs. Withers looked to the clock again. Twenty minutes was a long time for the filly to be gone. “Everypony, please be good while I go and check on Cotton Candy. If anypony finishes before I get back, please try the extra questions on page forty-five of the textbook.”
The teacher cantered down the hall towards the restrooms; she didn’t want to leave her class unattended for too long. She knew full well that not a single student would be working on their schoolwork right now. Stopping at the door, she knocked before entering.
The stalls were empty; there was no sign of Cotton anywhere.
Exiting the bathroom, Mrs. Withers looked up and down the hall.
“Mr. Sweep, excuse me!” she called out to the old custodian pony cleaning a spill at the end of the corridor. She trotted up to the older stallion, knowing he’d gone slightly deaf in his old age. “Clean, excuse me?”
Clean Sweep jumped at the sudden sound, turning to its source. “Oh, Mrs. Withers, you startled me there,” he answered. “What can I do for you, ma’am?”
“Sorry to bother you, but you haven’t seen any of the students out of class, have you?” she asked. “I’m looking for a filly who should’ve been back by now. She’s got a pink mane, and a light orange-cream coat. You’d, umm, know if you saw her.”
“Oh!” Clean Sweep scratched his chin as he thought. “You mean the kid with all the scars?” Clean Sweep didn’t notice, or at least didn’t respond to, the wince Mrs. Withers gave when he mentioned the foal’s scars. “Nope, ain’t seen hide nor hair of anypony since the bell rang.”
“Okay, thank you. If you happen to see her, please come and find me. Room 3A, you remember?”
“I sure do, ma’am. If I see her, I’ll bring her to you.”
Mrs. Withers trotted to the Principal’s office to check, before she could return to her class.
Ж
Cotton huddled in the corner. It was getting harder for her to breathe; her chest ached with every breath she took.
No air.
She couldn’t get any air. Every attempt to breathe caused that same deep pain in her chest.
Cotton panicked. She couldn’t breathe. She was going to die. The fire was going to eat her.
Daddy, help me. Please, help me, Daddy.
Black spots and little sparks of light filled her vision. Scrambling to her hooves, she moved to the door as fast as her little legs could carry her.
Can’t breathe, please, somepony help me. Can’t breathe, somepony, please Daddy, please save me Daddy, please.
Cotton tripped, sprawling on the floor as everything went black.
Ж
Principal Inquiry knocked on the door to classroom 3A, Mrs. Withers spotting her through the door.
“Excuse me for a moment, my little ponies.” She excused herself, exiting the classroom and closing the door behind her.
“Mrs. Withers, we’ve found Cotton.” Principal Inquiry wore a stern look; she hadn’t been impressed when Mrs. Withers had come to the office saying one of the students had gone missing.
“Oh, thank you,” Mrs. Withers breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ve been so worried.”
“Mr. Footlights has already sent up a flare; the paramedics should be on their way.”
“What?” Mrs. Withers cried.
“Could you explain to me why one of your students was found passed out in the furnace room in my school, Mrs. Withers?” Principal Inquiry clucked her tongue in frustration. “A student, might I remind you, now connected with the royal family?”
“What happened?” Mrs. Withers trembled. “Is she okay?”
“She is currently in the nurse’s office, waiting for the paramedics to arrive.” The principal gave the teacher a glare. “I’ve already sent Coach Swiftwing to inform her father. We’re lucky Clean Sweep was scheduled to check the furnace when he did.”
Ж
Spike paced the grounds of the hospital, waiting for Twilight to come back out. He cursed his size; he should be in there with his daughter.
One of the teachers from Cotton’s school had burst into the Canterlot Archives, and had been quickly directed to Spike. Within minutes, the dragon was in flight, hurtling towards the hospital nearest Cotton’s school, after having sent a quick note to Twilight to do the same.
“She’s okay, Spike,” Twilight said, interrupting the dragon’s pacing as she crossed the grounds to speak with him, “but they’re going to keep her overnight for observation. The orderlies are trying to organize a room near a window so you can see her once she’s out of observation.”
“How long will that be; when can I see her?”
“She should be out of observation in a few hours, then she’ll be taken to one of the private rooms.”
Spike shook as he spoke. “What happened? How did it happen?”
“The doctors say she passed out from hyperventilation. She seems fine, but they want to keep her overnight in case she has a concussion.”
“How did she get locked in the furnace room?”
“Oh, that.” Twilight rubbed her forearm with a golden-shod hoof. “When she woke up, she told me one of the other students, Boulder R—”
Twilight flew backwards twenty feet, collapsing against the side of the hospital as an enraged dragon took to the air.
Ж
Mrs. Withers stood in her office, getting chewed out by Principal Inquiry over the day’s events. Neither looked out the window; had they done so, they might have seen the incoming scaled, fire-breathing, razor-toothed epitome of fury hurtling through the skies, aimed directly at the window they both stood by.
Both principal and teacher screamed in horror. The ground shook beneath them as the dragon landed and thrust his head through the open window, along with a spray of broken glass.
“WHERE IS HE?”
Mrs. Withers dove under her desk, leaving her boss to face down the angry parent.
“W-who? Where is who?” Principal Inquiry asked, quivering as she stared up at the dragon.
“Boulder,” the dragon sneered, the heat of his breath stinging the principal’s eyes. “Where does he live?”
In every principle, rule, guideline, statute, precedent, regulation, and law governing education, it was always stressed that a faculty member was never to divulge the personal information of a student; it was a big no-no. The writers of said laws obviously had not included any caveats. Say, for example: when the inquirer was a knighted member of the nobility. Or say, when said nobility was the adoptive family member of not one, but two princesses, who both happened to be two of the three supreme rulers of the country said laws were written in.
The laws most definitely did not contain any caveats, provisos, clauses, methods, or even suggestions of dealing with angry, huge, gigantic, terrible, enormous, teeth-gnashing, sharp scale-having, horn-wearing, fire-breathing, could-eat-a-pony-in-one-bite, totally-pissed-off parents.
“Mrs. Withers!” Principal Inquiry squeaked. “Get the files.”
Regulations be damned, I don’t want to be dragon-chow.
With a shaky hoof, Mrs. Withers flicked through the filing cabinet in the corner of her office. When she found Boulder’s file, she dutifully hoofed it to Principal Inquiry.
“H-he lives at number twenty-nine Acacia Road, Downtown Canterlot.”
The dragon removed his head from the window and took to the skies, leaving two terrified mares in his wake.
Mrs. Withers opened the cupboard under her desk, producing two shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey.
“Y-y-you keep alcohol here?” Principal Inquiry shrieked.
“Do you want one or not?” Mrs. Withers asked, shock still etched across her face.
Principal Inquiry looked around the room, to its disheveled state after the impromptu parent-teacher meeting, and knew there was only one possible answer to Mrs. Withers’ question.
“Make mine a double.”
Ж
Stone Quarry sat in his favorite chair reading the Canterlot Times, as his wife, Ebony Ingot, prepared the table for the evening meal. Their son was confined to his room, having gotten in trouble at school, yet again.
Stone Quarry sighed to himself. Colts will be colts, I guess, but when is he going to grow into a real stallion?
“Honey, what’s that rattling?” he called out, putting down his paper and trotting into the dining room.
A scream filled his ears as two razor-sharp talons punctured the front door to Stone Quarry’s home. As the doors were torn off of their hinges and thrown to the ground, Stone Quarry realized if the filly-like screaming were to stop, he would need to close his mouth.
“WHERE IS HE?”
The head of a dragon pushed its way through the brand-new archway, through the hallway, and into the adjoining dining room. The dragon repeated himself.
“WHERE IS HE?”
A flash of light burst in front of the couple, and before them stood Princess Twilight Sparkle, interposing herself between the cowering couple and the raging dragon.
“Spike, stop this, this instant!” Twilight bellowed at him in the Royal Canterlot Voice. “Calm down! I will not let you hurt these ponies!”
“Them?” the dragon roared. “You’re protecting them? These vipers, and their Tartarus-damned son put my daughter—your niece—in the hospital, and you’re protecting them?” The dragon attempted to push himself further into the home.
Twilight heard the shattering of glass as his claws scraped at the outside of the house. If she didn’t stop him soon, he’d bring the whole house down on their heads.
Spike stopped in shock, the sting across his cheek burning where his sister had used a substantial amount of alicorn power to slap him across the face with a burst of magic.
“You are not an animal, Spike, so stop acting like one.” Twilight’s eyes glowed with raw power as she stared down the dragon. “If you cannot deal with this calmly, like a rational adult, then leave now! Your daughter needs you now, so go back to the hospital and wait for her. I will speak to Boulder’s parents about his attitude.”
Spike nodded slowly, his face still stinging. He turned back to the cowering couple. “Her Majesty was here to stop me from doing anything rash today, but understand this: should your son come anywhere near my daughter again… not even the four divines will be able to stop me,” he sneered, ignoring Twilight’s scowl. “Do we have an understanding?”
After both parents nodded their terrified agreement, Spike extracted his head from the doorway, then took flight.
Twilight let out a deep sigh. “I apologize for my brother’s actions today. The Royal Treasury will reimburse you for any damage to the house, and someplace to stay tonight. Now, I would like to discuss your son’s poor behavior…”
Ж
Boulder galloped between trees and under dark boughs. The darkened woods loomed around him, horrid whispers and voices echoing in the night. Branches grasped at him, scraping painfully down his sides.
A red-scaled claw shot from the black skies above, grasping at him. Boulder darted from side to side, avoiding the razor-sharp digits as they tried to clinch him. He screamed as the sharp appendages finally caught him, pinching sharply in his side, almost breaking the skin.
“Yo, Garble, you gonna cook that or what? I’m starved.”
“Shut up!” the red dragon snarled at his compatriate. “Stupid marshmallow kept rolling away.”
The red dragon lifted the screaming foal in front of his snout, and asked his friend, “How toasty do you want this one?”
Boulder looked on in horror as the gaping maw opened, and the sight of fire slowly roiling its way out of the dragon’s gullet engulfed his vision.
Ж
Twilight stumbled into the dining room just before midnight. Luna sat in an overstuffed chair with a confectionary bag in hoof.
“You know you shouldn’t be eating those too close to bedtime,” Twilight chided the older alicorn as she gave Luna a nuzzle. “Sorry for dumping my court on you tonight.”
“‘Tis alright, Twilight. We did not have much work tonight, so it is no trouble.” Luna smiled at her friend, seeing her exhaustion. “How fare our Spike and little Cotton?”
“Cotton is fine, and Spike is sleeping outside the hospital tonight.” Twilight shook her head. “Not that I blame him.”
“Nay, We heard what transpired with the school-yard bully; Spike sent Tia a very verbose letter while he was waiting for thy return.” Luna let out a slight chuckle.
“His parents were terrified; it took me an hour to calm them down.”
Luna put a gentle hoof on Twilight’s back, gently massaging the tension point between the wings; Twilight groaned in appreciation. Luna levitated the confectionary bag in front of Twilight.
“Marshmallow?”