//------------------------------// // 15th Movement // Story: Sketchy Salad Symphony // by Sketchy Sounds //------------------------------// Sketchy sat at his bedroom desk, frowning in concentration at the pad before him. The desk was lit from overhead with an adjustable lamp, attached to the side of the desk with a clamp. To one side of the paper he now carefully stroked over with the tip of a pencil, there sat a photograph. It was an immediately recognisable image, depicting a group of six fillies of assorted colours and species. Anyone who had been anywhere near Equestria in the past few years had seen this picture, as it depicted the very group responsible for averting disaster from engulfing the kingdom – twice over, no less. What was slowly taking shape on the paper before him was a carefully pencilled rendering of the photograph – something that he had been working at off and on over the past several weeks, but now he found himself having to devote more of his time to it. It wasn’t out of personal choice that he now spent hours each day painstakingly laying down the lines and then carefully shading, erasing, re-drawing and refining the image. This was, after all, a piece that was to represent his own skill and prowess as an artist – and one with a somewhat strict deadline, which had been sneaking up on him far faster than he had expected. The continuous background noise of the rain as it pattered relentlessly against his window was at least something he considered a help in this instance – it was helping to block out any other noises and distractions that may have thrown off his concentration as the evening wore on. Nevertheless, when a sudden loud knock sounded at his door, he jumped a bit – nearly biting clean through the pencil carefully grasped in his mouth in the process. “What is it!?” he bellowed, a little more frustration present in his voice than he’d meant as he turned a glare towards the door of his apartment. “Sketchy, hon? It’s Sally... yuh alright in there?” Sketchy winced a bit at that, the brief embers of anger he’d felt being quickly snuffed out as he rose to his feet and headed down the stairs from his room to answer the door. He swiftly fiddled with the lock, and swung the door open. “Ah... hey Sal.” he said, looking down to the rosy pink unicorn. His heart sank a bit further when he noticed her dripping wet mane. “Sorry, I’m... I’m a bit wound up right now.” He stepped back a bit, out of her way. “C’mon in, won’t you?” “Thankin’ yuh kindly, Sketchy.” she replied with a little chuckle, although despite the smile on her lips, her eyes carried a trace of worry. “Sorry fer turnin’ up unannounced. Uh, c’n Ah borrow a towel or somethin’?” “Knock yourself out, Sal.” the large earth pony replied as he shut the door again. “It’s a bit late in the day for you to come calling...” he added, raising his voice to be sure she heard, as she disappeared into the bathroom. “Ah know that, hon!” her voice replied, muffled slightly by the sound of a towel briskly drying off her hair. She reappeared outside of the bathroom a few moments later, pausing to pat her mane back down here and there. “But, Ah... Ah had a feelin’ that Ah should come see if yuh were OK. Ah mean, both you ‘n’ Tavy were a little quiet th’ other day, Ah thought maybe somethin’ must be on yer mind.” She paused, then shook her head. “Naw, actually, scratch that. Ah know yuh got somethin’ on your mind, Sketchy. And Ah’m gonna hear what it is.” Sketchy looked at her with a pained expression. Salad wasn’t always one for being assertive, but on the occasions that she did assert herself, she was very good at it. Now was one such occasion, as he noted the rather determined look on her eye coupled with her firm tone on those last words. That and her expression was similar to the kind he’d seen on her father’s face every so often. “Y’know, I’d really rather not—” he began, but Salad was quick to cut him off. “Ah know.” “And it’s not really the best—” “It’s as good a time as any.” Sketchy glared in annoyance at his smaller friend, but he knew that, short of actually physically picking her up and throwing her out the front door, there wasn’t any way he was going to get her to leave him alone – and that sort of measure was one he wasn’t about to take. “...fine.” he muttered in a defeated tone, giving her a bit of a sullen look. “But just so you know, I do have something I should really be working on right now.” “...oh! Uh, yuh do?” Salad blinked, the small smile she’d gained upon that little victory being replaced with a look of bemusement. “Uh, Ah mean, ‘course yuh do. Sorry hon, Ah’m just used to ma own schedule.” “I know, I know.” Sketchy replied, trotting over to the couch and flopping down on it. “Sadly my kinda work doesn’t come on such a regular everyday basis. I wish it would, though.” he added with a small laugh. His friend trotted over and perched herself on one of the chairs across from him. “I hear ya.” she replied. “So anyway, hon... what’s eatin’ yuh?” “Eh, a number of things.” he replied, looking over to her from his spreadeagled position. He sat up properly, took in a breath, and then slowly released it again. “First off... there’s the usual. The money worries.” “Well, but that ain’t hardly nothin’ new, hon. Ah mean, yer like a stuck record sometimes. ‘Ah only get paid when Ah got work tuh do!’ an’ all.” She then frowned a bit. “Did it get bad or somethin’?” “Define ‘bad’?” Sketchy replied, then shook his head upon seeing his friend’s face crease further with concern. “...lemme put it in simple terms. I’ve been having to choose, of late, between putting food on the table or paying certain bills.” “...such as?” Sketchy cleared his throat. “Ah. Well... such as the rent...” Salad cast her gaze downward, shaking her head. “Darn it, Sketchy... How much notice you got left?” He blinked in surprise at that. “How did you...” he began, but he trailed off as Salad looked back up at him. “How’d Ah guess? Come on, hon. This is you we’re talkin’ about. Yuh do this all the time, actin’ like there ain’t nothing wrong, tellin’ everyone that yer fine when you ain’t.” she replied, her voice trembling a bit as she neared the end of her sentence. “You still ain’t learned tuh just tell folks when stuff’s wrong. Why can’t ya just be honest? Why...” she paused, and sniffed loudly. “...why cain’t ya trust folks? Why can’t yuh trust me?” Sketchy winced. The old saying was quite right: the truth hurt. But... “Sally... c’mon. It’s not that I don’t trust you.” he began. “Just... argh, I don’t know! It’s just, it’s my problem, you know? So... I should deal with it.” Salad let out a very exasperated sounding sigh. “Yuh say that every time, Sketchy. Every. Single. Time. But ya know what? Ah know there ain’t no point in tryin’ ta hammer it through that skull uh yours. And Princess have mercy, Ah care about yuh too much tuh just abandon yuh to yer own fate.” She took a deep breath, composing herself. “Yuh didn’t answer ma question, though. How much time?” “...juuuuust a little bit over a month.” “Hm. Alright, that ain’t as bad as Ah thought. Ah was thinkin’ Ah’d probably have to be preparin’ the couch for yuh at the drop of a hat.” Salad smiled, though he could tell from the look in her eyes that she was still somewhat worried regardless. “Ha! Ah... no, uhm. We’re not quite at that stage. Not yet.” he replied, feeling slightly relieved at having let slip to her that he was facing down such a problem to begin with. Nevertheless, the looming prospect of having to give up his home was still quite a weight. He frowned, the thought of it starting to bog down what levity he’d felt. “An’ yuh said when Ah got here that yer workin’ on something currently. Do yuh reckon it’ll be enough?” “Oh, easily!” Sketchy replied. “There, uhm, there’s, well. Just one small problem.” Salad wilted a bit at that, shaking her head. “Hon, that ain’t the way yuh say it when there’s only a small problem. Yer small problem there sounds like it’s actually a big ‘un.” “Weeeeeell, it’s uhm. Not a guaranteed job.” “Define ‘not guaranteed’, hon.” “Uh. Well. You know how the anniversary of Nightmare Moon’s defeat is coming up?” “Ah sure do, hon.” Salad nodded, and then her face fell a bit. “Aww, shoot, hon, that’s where yer aimin’?” She was well aware, after all, as were plenty of other ponies, of the fact that there had been a call for artists across the land to submit to the palace their designs and renderings of commemorative and celebratory pieces. The Crown had expressed a desire to collect as many such pieces as possible by what was now, Salad realised, the end of the week. The proclamation that had been issued across the kingdom stated that the collected art would then be looked over by a panel of selected ponies, and the most significant pieces collected together to be used in and on all manner of celebratory items everywhere: banners, posters and all sorts. There was even a promise of reimbursement to the artists responsible for the pieces that were picked, the amount of which would correspond to the manner in which their work was used. “Look, Sketchy, hon... yer good at what you do an’ all, but... yuh ain’t the only one out there that knows how to handle a pencil. Do yuh honestly expect tuh win that competition? Ah mean, it’s gonna be fierce.” Sketchy looked back at her with an expression that was a mix of sheepishness and desperation. “Have you got any better ideas?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly. “I’m, ah, not asking that to be funny – if you really have got any good ideas, now’s the time to say.” Salad took a long look back at her friend, making a sort of whistling sound through her teeth. “...shoot, Sketchy, Ah honestly got nothin’. Ah can’t think of any place that’s hirin’ currently that ain’t after either experience or a bit of education that yew don’t got. Ah’d say come work at ma and pa’s place but... tuh be perfectly honest, there ain’t any way Ah can see that we could afford tuh pay yuh what you’d need.” “I know... I know Sal.” Sketchy nodded. “No need to hire someone to come do the work if the family already have it in hoof, right?” “Eeyup.” Sally nodded, an apologetic look on her face. “Ah know full well Ah don’t make as much workin’ for ma folks as Ah would if Ah worked elsewhere – but, Ah also know full well Ah wouldn’t be as happy there, either.” “Yeah. Gotta admit, Sally, I honestly can’t picture you doing anything else.” Salad chuckled briefly at that. “Me neither. So, was that what it was that’s been gettin’ to yuh this whole time, then?” “Uh... yeah, that was it, pretty much...” Sketchy replied. As he’d feared, his hesitation was not missed by the sandwich chef sat across from him, as she narrowed her eyes slightly at him and raised an eyebrow. “Pretty much, huh? As in, most of it but not all of it?” “Well... it’s, I mean...” he began, but he noticed Salad’s eyes narrowing further. He sighed, shook his head, and composed himself, closing his eyes for a moment. “Alright. Well... I fell out with Octavia.” “Fell out with her how, hon?” Salad asked, her expression and tone softening just a bit. “In a pretty big way... and I don’t think I’m likely to see her again. At least, not from anywhere except the audience.” Salad’s frown returned somewhat at that. “Well now why would yuh say that, Sketchy? What’d you do? What’d she do?” “I told her she was worrying too much about what other ponies thought of her, and she just completely lost it at me.” “She what!?” “She just lost it. She was complaining about how everything was stressing her out, and she mentioned how her orchestra were gossiping about her behind her back. So I told her she shouldn’t be so concerned with that, and she flipped out. Told me to get lost, pretty much.” “Well shoot... Ah’m real sorry to hear that, hon. Ah can understand her bein’ stressed out and all, but that don’t make it right fer her to tell yuh that.” “Well, what’s done is done.” Sketchy replied. “I think I ought to stay out of her hair for now. “ “Prob’ly fer the best.” Salad agreed. “Ah do feel kinda sorry fer the gal, but she cain’t just go takin’ her worries out on other folk like that. And heck knows you got enough to worry about yerself.” “I do at that. Speaking of which, I should really be getting back to work.” the earth pony noted, getting to his feet. “Yuh should, at that. Uh, do yuh... do yuh mind if Ah hang around a while, sugar-cube? It’s still rainin’ cats ‘n’ dogs out there after all.” Sketchy smiled fondly at his unicorn friend at that. “If it were just about anyone else, Sally, I’d tell ‘em to brave it. But sure, you can stick around. My home’s your home.” “Thanks, hon!” she replied, beaming at him. “No worries. Just, y’know. Try not to distract me if you can help it. There’s less time than I’d ideally want to finish my picture.” he replied with a small smile, heading for the stairs back up. “Ah’ll try, hon.” she nodded, adding “Do yuh know anythin’ about the prizes? Ah mean, how bad is it?” “Could be worse!” he called over his shoulder, raising his voice a bit to make sure she still heard him as he made his way back to the drawing table. “If I remember rightly, the stuff that’s considered the best is gonna get seen absolutely everywhere, on banners and stuff like that. The less fancy stuff is gonna get used on smaller odds and ends. Y’know, postcards, fliers, etcetera. If your piece gets picked to go on something, you get some bits for it.” “Any idea how much?” “Depending on how they use your work, anywhere from a few hundred up to maybe a few thousand. If my work’s picked to be featured, I’d have enough to squeak by for another month, maybe a few months at best.” “Well, that’s better than nothin’...” Salad mused. “Can Ah get a gander at whut you’re drawin’?” she called back up. “Sure!” Sketchy replied, having had a feeling she’d ask that. He leaned back a bit on the stool he was perched on as he heard the footsteps of his friend climbing the stairs. She trotted over and peered at the paper on his desk, raising her eyebrows and letting out a small appreciative whistle. “Not bad, hon, not bad at all. Ah reckon you might just be in with a fightin’ chance – well, so long as yuh git ‘er done on time, that is.” “Well, I should be able to manage that I think.” her friend chuckled, picking up a pencil between his teeth. “Ik’ll gusht kake kime.” Salad snickered a little at her friend’s peculiar sounding speech, though fortunately for her she’d heard him talking with his mouth full often enough to understand what he was saying. “It will, Ah guess. Ah’ll let yuh get on with it. Yuh eaten much at all today? Cuz if Ah know yuh like Ah think Ah do, then the answer probably ain’t gonna be yes.” Sketchy grinned sheepishly round his pencil at her. “Ah thought so.” she nodded. “Ah’ll go whip yuh up somethin’ nice.” With that said, she trotted back down the stairs to the kitchenette, and busied herself finding some food to organise into some refreshments. Sketchy allowed himself to relax slightly as he continued working. His friend’s presence, especially having now talked over the situation with her, was quite calming. It eased his worries a bit to know that there was now someone else sharing the burden, so to speak. A few more hours ticked by, and the rain still pattered steadily against the windows. Salad was lounging on Sketchy’s bed, idly watching the falling rain; her eyelids starting to droop and her head nodding occasionally. Sketchy finally noticed this as he glanced round at her. “Sal? If you can’t stay awake, just nap already. I’m probably gonna stay up the rest of the night on this anyway.” “Huh?” Salad replied blearily, looking round at him with tired eyes. “Are yuh...” she began, but paused to yawn widely before continuing. “Uh, ‘scuse me. Are yuh sure it’s alright? Ah can head home...” “When you’re practically falling asleep and it’s dark and wet outside? Doesn’t sound like a smart idea to me, Sally. And your folks know you came here, I’m sure they won’t mind you staying given the circumstances.” “...yer right. Outta all the guys in Canterlot, Ah’d say they trust you the most tuh look after me.” she smiled, a warmth to her tone that brought a smile to her friend’s face too. “Well then. Get some rest. I’m gonna be burning the midnight oil on this one.” “Alright, sugar-cube.” With that, Salad curled herself up a little more comfortably on the bed, settling herself down to rest. Sketchy returned his focus to the paper before him, carefully working away at the drawing. His face was etched into a look of determined concentration as he painstakingly sketched lines, erased bits here and there, re-drew other parts and further refined the image before him. He became faintly aware, after a while, of the faint sound of his friend’s steady, relaxed breathing from off to the side. He laid his pencil down on the table before him, and glanced round at her sleeping form. He couldn’t help but smile – the small rosy-coated unicorn had curled herself up on top of the duvet, her head laid on one of the pillows. Her blonde tail was curled round her haunches, twitching slightly every now and again. He watched her peaceful slumber for a few more moments, then quietly turned back to his desk. Pulling open one of its drawers, he retrieved a small camera. Sitting it on the desk, he carefully adjusted it to frame the image of his average-sized friend curled up on top of the larger-than-average bed, and snapped a photo. Salad remained where she was, unmoving save for the occasional tail twitch and her steady breathing. He was somewhat relieved not to have woken her – he preferred to capture his subjects’ likenesses in more ordinary, candid postures. He stowed the camera away again, turning his attention back to his drawing. Still, as he continued to work away on it, one lingering thought in the back of his mind continued to bother him. I wonder how Octavia’s doing... He frowned to himself. Now wasn’t the time to think about that, after all. There was this picture to finish, first and foremost – and besides, with the way she’d responded to his words, it was pretty clear to him that she wouldn’t want anything more to do with him. After all, her music was more important. Even if she had spent time with him, the music had always taken precedence. She had her reputation, her career to consider. He knew he couldn’t compete with that – and besides, with the Summer Equinox slowly closing in on them, it would be better for her not to have to worry about her peers gossiping about her personal life. And if I don’t have to worry about her either, that’s one less thing taking my focus off this. he told himself as he continued the painstaking work of crafting the smooth lines on the paper before him. Little did he know that, across town, the subject of his muted worries was also indulging in late night artistry. Octavia sat where she had been for the past several minutes - no, hours, she corrected herself. She had spent this time carefully refining pages upon pages of sheet music; a task which had been preceded by a personal visit from the very pony whose forthcoming spectacular was the whole purpose for the music she now sat editing. The Princess had been as polite and cordial as ever, a fact Octavia had found herself both grateful and a little guilty for. The reason for that was that she herself had not been as attentive as she felt was due – although that had been because Her Highness had inadvertently touched on a rather raw nerve. She frowned to herself as she recalled the incident. “Good evening, Princess.” “Good evening, my dear Octavia.” Princess Luna’s tone was both regal and friendly at the same time. It was an interesting blend to hear, but one that you couldn’t help but feel some cheer in your heart from hearing it. “I trust the evening finds you well?” “Always, Princess. You know I am a fan of your work.” Octavia replied, a wry smile on her face at her little joke. The Princess tilted her head slightly at that, her expression creasing into an amused look. “You must be in a good humour to go so far as word play.” she commented happily. “Does it perchance have something to do with your stallion friend?” she added with a wink. Octavia winced slightly at that, her formerly buoyant mood deflating a little. “Ah... no. No, I would not say that.” The regal pony before her arched an eyebrow at her teacher’s reaction, but realisation soon dawned on her face. “Did you have a disagreement?” “That would be one way of putting it.” Octavia replied with a small sigh. “Let it simply be said for now that I should like to keep my distance from him.” The Princess could hear the slight edge in the smaller pony’s tone, one she understood to mean that her teacher would rather not speak of her problems. She decided to be respectful of that wish, and smoothed over the subject. “I see. I am sorry to hear that. I hope that things work out.” “I am sure I shall feel happier soon enough.” Octavia replied. “Come, let me hear your playing. If nothing else, I know that should serve to lighten my mood.” “Indeed? Shall I take this to mean that my somewhat neglected skills are regaining more of their sharpness, then?” Luna replied in a mildly teasing tone as she made her way into her teacher’s living room. “If nothing else, it has been quite some time since last I heard a strangled rabbit.” “Ha! I shall take that as a compliment, my dear teacher.” Luna remarked, taking up the blue-lacquered violin in her hooves. “Though it pleases me to hear it. Celly is beginning to suspect I am up to something, I can tell.” It took Octavia a good few seconds of puzzled thinking to realise that the princess was indeed referring to her older sister – albeit in a highly informal manner. “Is she, now?” “Most certainly. I am going to have to hope she does not think to check the music room’s collection. If she should happen to get curious and notice my violin missing, she will almost certainly realise what I am up to. And that would ruin the surprise.” Octavia blinked a moment in realisation at that. “Aha, so that would be why you have left her in my care?” “Quite so!” the moon princess smiled, her eyes sparkling. “My sister does not often set foot inside the music room. Between us, it would certainly be me who is the more musically inclined – not that she does not have any talent in that area herself, of course. But regardless, were I to begin spending a lot of time in there, it is inevitable that she would come to hear me play. I do not want her to hear me strangling rabbits, as you so put it.” Octavia let out a giggle at that, nodding her head. “I quite understand your plight, Princess. I would not want to give anything but my best, regardless of the size of the audience.” “Well then, we should see to further sharpening my skill, would you not agree?” Octavia simply nodded her head, taking up her own violin and glancing over to her alicorn student. With an unspoken signal, the two of them began to play. It was certainly true that Luna’s skills had improved since she had begun tutelage under Octavia. The smooth tones of her celestial instrument rang clear and soft, bright as the moon and yet as subtle as the stars. That was really the only manner Octavia could think of for describing the instrument’s sound that did it justice – of course, considering the instrument’s owner, it was no surprise. It felt as though the princess was putting her heart and soul into her playing, and after a while Octavia had found herself simply stopping her accompaniment to just listen to her student create such enchanting sounds. It was enough to push her nagging thoughts regarding the stallion that Luna had mentioned almost completely out of her mind, to the point that her head was filled with nothing besides the enchanting sounds wafting through the air. It wasn’t until she had played for several minutes more that Luna had seemed to realise that her tutor was now just stood listening to her play. She blinked a few times, bringing her playing to a close. “I apologise, Octavia. I appear to have gotten a little carried away.” she stated. “My goodness, Princess, do not apologise!” Octavia replied, shaking her head with a smile. “What you were playing was a thing of beauty. I could not bring myself to continue accompanying you for fear of drowning your music.” A wide smile spread across Luna’s face at that remark. “Is that so? Well! Then in this case I shall retract my apology on those grounds.” she stated with a slight giggle. That elicited a similar response from her tutor, who shook her head slightly as she laughed. “I am most pleased with your progress, Princess.” she commented. She then glanced to the clock, and noticed that time had unfortunately not stood still whilst her student had been playing such awe-inspiring music. “Sadly, it would seem time is not on our side... I am afraid I have much work to do tonight and few hours to spend on it.” The midnight blue coated pony nodded her head slightly at that. “It is quite alright. Going by your reaction tonight, it would seem that I have all but regained my former ability. I believe I should not need to call upon you so often soon.” Octavia felt a slight pang of melancholy at that, as she had grown accustomed to the Princess’s visits. Nevertheless, she had known from the beginning that this was of course only a short term arrangement to help her sovereign re-train her neglected skills and nothing more. She nodded in turn. “So it would seem, Your Highness. I shall of course be glad to continue to assist you until such a time as you feel necessary.” Princess Luna carefully set her instrument back down upon the stand it had been sat upon, and gave another nod to the smaller pony. “I expected no less of you. I shall be on my way, the night is not getting any younger.” The two of them headed towards the front door. Octavia was abruptly forced to come to a halt, however, as the princess in front of her suddenly paused mid-step. “Forgive my curiosity, Octavia, but when did you acquire this piece?” she asked, her eyes fixed on the framed drawing hanging in the entranceway. Octavia followed her gaze, and her mood was once more slightly soured as she looked up at the picture. “That... it was given to me a week or so back.” “It is a captivating rendition, my dear. Tell me, whom was it that created this masterpiece?” Octavia remained silent for a moment, causing the Princess to turn her gaze to the smaller pony. It took very little time for her to put two and two together. “...ah, forgive me. This is his work?” “Mmm. Yes, Princess. That... it is Sketchy’s work.” Octavia replied, averting her gaze to one side. “I am sorry, Octavia. It was not my intention to fray your nerves once more.” “Please, Princess, do not concern yourself with it.” the stone grey pony insisted. “It is not worth your while worrying about. I... I am certain that I shall find a way to resolve my quarrel with him, one way or the other.” The slender dark coated mare bowed her head slightly to her tutor, an understanding smile on her face. “Very well, my dear. I shall be on my way, then. I bid you a good night.” “And a good night to you also, Princess.” Octavia replied, managing to at least smile in return as the regal pony stepped out the doorway. There came a distant rumble of thunder as the Princess and her escorts disappeared into the night, cuing Octavia to hurriedly close the door of her cottage and swiftly retreat to the confines of her living room once more. So it was that she now sat, many hours later, having waded her way through countless pages of music. Her eyelids were starting to feel somewhat heavy, and her eyes were sore from having to focus on the intricate arrangements of notes laid out on the sheet before her. She groaned as she straightened up, her back making a few audible cricks as she did so. That, she decided, was her body’s manner of informing her that she’d sat here long enough. A glance at the clock brought her to the realisation that her star student’s big sister would be getting out of bed in only a few short hours, which meant that it was definitely past time that she retired for her own. She slowly pulled herself off the chair she’d been sat in and made her way to her bedroom. However, once she had pulled off her collar and tie, donned her nightgown and made herself comfortable under the covers, she found herself unable to drift off. She laid there staring up at the ceiling for several long minutes, but her mind refused to shut down. There were too many concerns and thoughts crashing around inside of it. First and foremost, there was the concert. The closer it got, the more worried she became that perhaps, just possibly, what they would perform would not be worthy of the event. Or perhaps something would go wrong, as the weather pegasi involved had been far from reliable so far in properly performing their part - and that was before one took into account that there could easily be a technical fault, or that somepony might snap a string, or inhale their reed, or... No! Stop this! she mentally chided herself. There is much that could go wrong, but just because it can, does not mean that it shall! That, however, still left her with one other large concern - one which, try as she might to avoid it, kept coming back to torture her. The quarrel that had erupted between her and the one pony she had begun to properly consider a friend, which for all she knew could well have soured things beyond hope. Why did he have to say such things? And why did you have to become so enraged? Why... She felt a sob escape her throat before she could catch it, as her tired eyes became damp. In her head, she relived the argument once more. She saw the face of her accuser, heard his voice bring allegations against her of being too hung up on image. She felt the rush of fury inside, heard her voice cry out vehemently in defence of herself. Then she saw the blur of her vision as she turned away, and it was then that, lying there in her bed, she began to sob openly as she once more recalled how, as she had walked home, the anger that had burned so hotly in her chest had slowly fizzled out, replaced only by an aching emptiness and a sick feeling in her stomach. “Why!?” she cried at the ceiling, the feeling of anguish getting the better of her. She turned over and buried her face in the pillow, her tears soaking into it. Why won’t this feeling go away? she questioned herself. She knew, though. If she was honest with herself, she knew why she couldn’t get rid of the feeling that she had been robbed of something. She knew, also, why it was that she had flown so quickly into a rage. It was confusing, frightening, and at this very moment, painful to think of – but she recognised the one feeling that was causing so many others to swirl around in her head. That one that she had never expected, never thought possible that a stallion could cause. And then he had insulted her, and spoken words that could not have been further from the truth. A strangled sob escaped from her throat, followed by a bit of a hiccup as she struggled to get her emotions back in check. She slowly turned back over, onto her side. I cannot think about all this right now. she thought to herself. Tomorrow is a new day. I can wonder about the solution I told the Princess I would find then, when it is light. With that thought in mind, she gradually drifted off into a somewhat fitful slumber.