//------------------------------// // Chapter Three // Story: Fragile Wings // by Crystal Moose //------------------------------// “Good Morning, Pinkamena” the black-coated stallion greeted. “Come in, sit down.” Pinkie took the high backed leather chair across from the him. “How have you been?” He smiled, looking at her through thick-framed glasses. “Okay, I guess.” Pinkie looked down at her hooves; they were still covered in bandages. A pad and pencil hovered in front of Doctor Wits, glowing with the same fern-green aura that lit his horn. “Is there anything you would like to ask before we start?” “Can I go home?” Pinkie asked, staring intently at the floor. “Sorry Pinkamena, not yet… but hopefully soon.” “I just want to go home now,” Pinkie sighed. “That is why you are here right now,” he responded with enthusiasm. “Soon you will be healthy enough to go home, back to the Cakes.” Pinkie Pie feebly nodded her assent. “I know you don’t want to, but we need to talk about—” “No,” Pinkie burst out. “Please, no.” Pinkie started to shake violently, tears welling in her eyes. “Please don’t make me talk about it again. Please. Please?” “Pinkamena—” Pinkie interrupted him, sobbing loudly. Had anyone who’d known her see into the doctor's office, they would likely not recognise the mare. “Pinkamena. I know it is hard, but we must talk about it. You won’t get better until we do.” Pinkie shook her head vigorously, her flaccid hair whipping about around her. “I cannot force you,” he sighed. “But you have to face what happened. If you want to get better, you must work your way through it.” The sobbing slowed to a sniffle; Doctor Wits levitated a box of tissues from his desk and Pinkie took a few. He left the box of tissues on the small table next to her. After a minute, he asked again. “Do you think you might be able to talk about it today?” Silence continued for another minute. Pinkie nodded. Ж I was walking down the dirt road to Fluttershy’s house. I was super excited to see Fluttershy, she said she had a new friend. And so many of Fluttershy’s friends are really super cute. I saw Fluttershy, sitting under a tree in the garden. She was singing that tune that goes “Ahh-aaaa-aah-aah-ahh” that she always sings with all of her bird friends. I jumped up and waved to Fluttershy. Fluttershy waved back, and I skipped to see her. When I got closer, she put her hoof up to her lips. It was sneaky time! I went over to her, as quiet as I could. When I was close enough, she patted the spot on the ground next to her. She started singing again. And in her mane was a cute little yellow wagtail. It chirped the same song. “What did you talk to Fluttershy about?” We talked about the birdy; she was really happy to have him. “Isn’t he wonderful?” “What did the bird look like, Pinkie?” He was super pretty. He had a little blue stripes on the side of his head. And he was cute and yellow and soft-looking all over. And he had such a nice singing voice. Fluttershy grabbed my hoof and had me hold my arm out. The little bird flew down onto my arm— “What happened next?” I don’t want to! No. Please? “Pinkie, you need to be strong. Tell me what happened next.” He hopped— he hopped up my arm— chirping. That was when— “Control your breathing, Pinkie, just like we practiced. Slow breathes, nice and deep.” Twitchy tail! Twitchy tail! Pinkie sat in the chair, rocking back and forth; holding her rear legs with her forearms. Her eyes lost focus and her breathing became erratic. “Pinkie, listen to my voice.” No! I don’t want to listen. Go away! “Pinkamena Pie, slow your breathing. Listen to my voice. You need to calm yourself down. Practice the breathing exercise I taught you.” Pinkie Pie’s quickening breath had become short and sharp. She continued to rock in her chair, burying herself in her gown. Spasms started up her right side, and she fell out of the chair. His words couldn’t reach her now. They couldn’t hurt her anymore. With a quick flick of his magic, he was able to press the call button on his desk. Two orderlies came into the room, and pinned her to the floor. “Gentle now, don’t let her hurt herself,” he ordered, as he levitated a medical kit out of his desk drawer. He used a small alcohol wipe on the fur on her gaskin. He levitated a small bottle and a syringe from the kit, and filled the syringe with a clear liquid from the bottle. Pinkie gasped as the needle penetrated her skin. Soon after, she felt a warming sensation all over, and drifted into unconsciousness. “Take her back to her room. And tell Tenderheart I want her on 10 minute observations until she comes around.” The darkness overcame her. Ж She woke up, groggy and achey. Pinkie wasn’t sure what time it was. She tried to sit up, but the room spun. She fell face first out of the bed and landed on the cold linoleum floor. The door burst open. “Pinkamena! What happened? Are you alright?” Nurse Tenderheart rushed to her side. Pinkie sat up with the assistance of the nurse. “Silly pony,” she giggled, blushing. “I fell.” “Let’s get you back up into bed,” she said, guiding Pinkie back to the bed. “You just stay right there, and I will go get you some lunch.” “It’s lunchtime‽” Pinkie asked with glee. “Lunch finished about ten minutes ago,” she smiled over her shoulder as she walked through the door. Ж “Pinkie? You m-made it!” Sugar said, smiling at Pinkie. “I w-was w-worried you wouldn’t m-make it today!” “Silly pony, I wouldn’t want to miss out on Arts and Craft or spending time with the super-duperest bestest unicorn colt ever.” Pinkie sat down at the table, her eyes were alight with joy. This was her most favorite of favorite fantabulous fun time activities since she’d arrived here. This room had paints and coloured paper and ribbons and glue. And streamers. Streamers! “P-Pinkie?” Sugar coughed quietly, to get her attention. “C-Could you show me that p-paper trick you were t-telling me about?” “Okie-dokie-lokie. What colour do you want?” “That one,” he pointed to a sheet of purple paper. “Okay. So first you take the piece of paper like this. Then you fold it at the corners like this.” Pinky continued to give instruction. She folded the paper over and over, it slowly taking shape. Sugar Forest looked on with delight. “And there we go,” she handed it to him. A small, purple paper crane. Sugar Forest lifted the paper crane with his magic, sending it soaring through the air. She watched as the neck and tail stretched and contracted in the air, forcing the wings to flap. He laughed and brought it into land in front of him. One of the wings was tilted, and the neck of the crane was ajar. “Aww,” Sugar Forest moaned. “The wings don’t move anymore.” She reached out a shaking hoof to touch the small crane. “Please move,” she asked, barely more than a whisper.