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// 15b: Enter the Physiotherapist, 2 
// Story: The Life and Times of Caughlin Mare 
// by Casca 
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Caughlin felt her eyes itch. Her forelegs trembled with irritation as she dug into the bedsheets. The doctor had expressly forbidden her not to let her hooves near the gauze. After the first couple of days, she had asked for hoofcuffs, chains, anything to bind herself down - to which he had not complied. Countless days - she was in no mood to keep track - had passed since then. Now the gauze was off for good, though it was ever dim at best in the room - nominal sight, however nominal, was better than none, she guessed. But it meant exposure to the air, and on nights such as this, when the air was dry, it only aggravated her condition more and more.

"You're going to go blind if you give in," she muttered to herself. "You're going to go blind, you're going to... oh. Hello, Gummy. Sorry to wake you up."

The artificial dragon stared at her, its luminescent eyes actually glowing faintly in the dark. It blinked once before settling down once more on her tummy.

"Lucky thing," she sighed. She flopped back down and blinked furiously. The doctor had said that the reason why she got movement privileges was because he trusted that she could handle it. Caughlin inferred that patients that couldn't got the bondage treatment... perhaps the doctor had ran out of restraints to spare. 

She stared at the ceiling. The image of her trainer floated into her mind.

Surprise. A smile eased itself across her face. She remembered when she finally laid eyes on her, when her eyes were deemed functional by the doctors - an inordinately poofy yellow mane and tail, white coat, blank flank. Surprise had even baked a batch of rock cakes for the occasion, with real rocks, and while the main ingredient was inedible to say the least, the cake itself was not too bad.

From the first day onwards, Surprise had visited her six times a week for five weeks. For two hours a day, they did nothing but the most basic of movements - stretches, lifting, bending - and riding on the ever-rising tide that was Surprise's enthusiasm, they made their way down the to-do charts. Slowly, painfully but surely, she regained the use of her forelegs, then her hind legs, and at the end of the program she was walking around her room unassisted. 

It had not been easy. Every so often steps still felt like blessings rather than natural courses, but Surprise had warned her of it. The words were foreign coming from her mouth: "Sometimes, you just gotta accept little things as the little things they are, or you'll stop seeing the big things. You can't appreciate the things worth appreciating if you don't take some things for granted."

But Surprise was not one of those little things.

I have to get her something. Her birthday's coming up. She sat up and reached for her notebook on the table beside her head. She had yet to master writing with hooves. She had experimented with mouthwriting, like most non-unicorns did, but she did not like the thought nor taste of erasing gum on her tongue. At least her words were legible (to herself). She fumbled for a pencil in the dark, and with great difficulty scribbled the reminder: Think of Surprise's gift. Get R&D to help.





If there was one thing that Caughlin wanted to change about Surprise, it was her habit of not knocking. On this particular day one of her colleagues had dropped in with an update of their status, as usual; assimilation into the Order's ranks had been relatively smooth, depending on how one defined "smooth". They had been put to work on proofreading and design, which they were happy to do, and while they had been met with suspicious gazes by the rest of the Order - the guards, the officers and even the janitor, an old pony blind in one eye - they were content with sticking in their small group. It wasn't ostracization, she meekly said, if they didn't care - Caughlin hadn't the heart to argue with that. She had figured just as much, really - the R&D were not exactly sociable, and probably planned on living in the workrooms until further notice. Caughlin was content to lie in bed while Pickedum stood next to her.

"So I heard you like-" began the mare before a violent shuddering of Caughlin's bed caused her to jump back in fright.

"Surprise!" A white blur flew out from under the bed, landing itself on a chair in the corner. "Bet you didn't expect that!"

Caughlin regained her bearings and took a glance at her colleague's shocked gaze across the room. Pickedum had backed up against the wall, holding her clipboard in front of her as if it were a shield. 

"Ah, Surprise. Meet a friend of mine. Surprise, Pickedum, Pickedum, Surpise."

"You have a funny name," said Surprise, raising an eyebrow.

"I... eh?" stammered Pickedum.

"Discord found her when she was just a foal a year before he found me. She didn't have a name, so the R&D ponies gave her one. It's a substance that catalyses the artificial production of greenstone or jade, which has interesting thaumical properties with regards to the triangle-based arrangement of-"

Surprise cut her off, turning to Pickdeum and flying up so close that their snouts touched briefly. "You have interesting eyes. Ooh, purple."

"Please don't hurt me," whimpered Pickedum.

"She won't. She's a physiotherapist," remarked Caughlin dryly. "Anyhow, as pleasant as she is to meet, she's not the reason why I called for you." She waited until she had Surprise's full attention. "Happy birthday, Surprise," she said, smiling. With both hooves, she offered her a shiny metal cylinder the size of a wine bottle with a bow wrapped around it.

"A present? For me? You shouldn't have, Caughlin!" squealed Surprise, dashing up to hug her.

"It's a thank you for all you've done for me," replied Caughlin, hugging back. "Do you like it?"

Surprise took the cylinder and gave it a stern look.

"It's all metally," she said at last.

"Ah, derp. Sorry, I should have told you what's inside," Caughlin said. "You told me you came from Stalliongrad, where it snowed all the time. Wherever it is we're at, it doesn't snow, and as far as I know neither does Ponyville. So, this is for when you feel like home. It's snow seed - you just scoop a capful into the clouds, no Surprise don't open it now - yes, you unscrew the cap, fill it, then sprinkle it across a cloud. In a matter of minutes the seeds should activate, and it'll snow."

"Wow! That's... that's the sweetest somepony's ever thought of me! How does it work?" exclaimed Surprise, lip trembling with joy.

"It's magic," said Caughlin with a wink. "No, seriously, there's a spell in the seeds that proceed to suck up moisture in their surroundings and freeze them up. It's, eh, complicated."

"It's amazing, and so are you. Thank you Caughlin... I-I don't know what to say," sniffed Surprise. "This is the best gift ever. Not even Mister Stallion could top this off."

"Aw, and you haven't even seen what we've prepared," managed Pickedum at last, panicked laughter trailing the forced sentence.

"The R&D team decided to throw you a party," explained Caughlin, laughing as she got up. "They thought it was nice of you to fix me up, and thought that they should thank you too. Bring in the cake, guys."

That afternoon, the eleven of them crammed into Caughlin's ward and filled it with cheer until the nurses ordered them to stop at last. The bed and tables were pushed to one side and a cart of food was wheeled in. They talked, ate and drank, and in those moments, for the first time in a long while, did not even think once of the world and its woes outside.