School of Hard Knocks

by Hoopy McGee


Fate's Lie

It wasn’t until a large chunk of plaster fell from the wall and landed on Breaker’s chest that the world finally rushed back in around me. I stopped gaping at the carnage, my mind becoming crystal clear in an instant of panic.

“Persimmon!” I shouted as I broke into a run. My mother yelled something that I ignored while I hurdled Breaker’s neck, skidding to a stop by the teacher’s head. White plaster dusted her coat, and her legs were stiff and trembling. Strands of her mane were strewn across her face, and that untidiness was somehow the most unsettling thing to me right then. The Persimmon that I knew would never allow her mane to get away from her like that.

I cradled her head in my hooves and brushed her mane from her wide and staring eyes, which locked onto mine with a pleading desperation. Her lungs were heaving, and small mewling noises came out of the back of her throat as she tried to speak.

“Relax,” I said softly. “You’re going to be okay. The police said this stuff wears off quickly.”

“Cinnamon?”

I glanced up to see Plum picking her way carefully through the debris-strewn floor. Her eyes were red and she was no longer crying, though her whole body was still shaking like a leaf. My mother was standing behind her, her earlier calm washed away, leaving her looking afraid and angry.

Mom could wait for now. I focused on the filly, who looked like she was ready to collapse at any moment. Luckily, I had an idea of something to keep her mind occupied until we could get help.

“She’s going to be alright, Plum,” I told her with a smile. “Can you stay with her? I have to go check on the sergeant outside.”

Plum nodded and took my place as I stood up. I looked at the two of them for a moment as the purple filly began stroking the jet-black mane and talking gently to the mare. Persimmon’s breathing had slowed to a more normal pace by the time I began making my way down the hallway.

Cinnamon!” Mom’s frightened shout stopped me just shy of the outside door. “You have to tell me what’s going on!”

“Those two kidnapped Plum’s mom tonight,” I said shortly. “You’re going to want to find something you can use to tie them up with.”

The color drained from Mom’s face as I looked between the two criminals. Breaker was as still as death, but Mister Sunshine’s eyes met mine, twin chips of ice regarding me steadily.

“Start with the zebra,” I said, my voice flat. “Make sure he’s tied up tightly. I have to check on the officer who was with us.”

My mother nodded sharply and moved quickly into her craft room as I made my way cautiously outside. When I saw that nopony was outside the front door, I moved with more confidence into the yard. If Sunshine had any more backup with him, they’d run off already.

Sergeant Pinwheel had been dumped ignominiously into what would have been the flower bed if it had been weeded at all this year. I felt some of the tension leaving my shoulders as I saw his barrel moving. His eyes, the only part of his body he could move, locked onto mine as I approached.

“The bad guys are down. My mom is tying them up now.” At least, I hoped she was. “That paralytic the zebra used on you should wear off soon, according to what the captain told me earlier.”

He blinked twice slowly, and I assumed from that he’d understood what I’d said. I reached down and took the police whistle out of the front chest pocket of his uniform, inhaled deeply, and blew into it over and over again until I felt like I was ready to pass out.

I have to admit, I was impressed by their response time. Officers swarmed to my house, the first arriving within seconds. I left Pinwheel in the hooves of several officers and escorted the rest into my home. When they saw the carnage inside, I heard a couple of gasps and one appreciative curse from the officers.

My mother didn’t notice at first that she had company, not with all of her focus on the zebra she was in the middle of tying up. She wasn’t taking any chances; all four his legs were tied tightly together at the fetlock, with more cord wrapped around his muzzle. His vest had been cut away by a huge pair of fabric shears, leaving the mobster looking somehow smaller and more fragile than before. He shifted his gaze from her back to me as I walked in.

“Good job, Mom,” I said. “How about we let the officers take it from here, though?”

She looked up, startled for a moment before scowling at the police.

“I don’t want them here,” she said flatly. Her voice rose as she told the police, “Get out of my home!”

“Sorry, ma’am,” one of the officers said, while the others were checking on Breaker and Persimmon. “This is a crime scene now.”

Mom snorted and pawed the floor with a hoof, but accepted it with bad grace. She gritted her teeth and glowered at the officers as they moved around, all of whom were wise enough to give her a wide berth.

Captain Iron Bear, as unflappable as ever, showed up within minutes to take charge of everything, turning the chaos into a precision machine with a few well-chosen orders. He surveyed the activity with a critical eye before giving a satisfied nod.

“Alright,” the captain said, regarding me, my mother and Plum with a raised eyebrow. “Would anypony like to tell me what happened here tonight?”

I heard an annoyed grunt and a sharp intake of breath from my mother and quickly stepped forward, cutting off whatever it was she was about to say.

“I will, sir,” I said, trying to tune out Mom’s grumbling from behind me.

I started relaying what had happened after I’d left the park with Persimmon and Pinwheel. Mentioning Mr. Sunshine’s paralytic powder got the trussed up zebra a scowl. Telling him how Mom had kicked Breaker through a wall got her a pair of raised eyebrows and an appreciative nod.

I looked back to see how Mom was handling this and my mouth went dry. My mother wasn’t paying any attention to what I was telling the captain. Instead, her face was an expressionless mask as she watched as the officers moved through her home. Her muscles were so tense that her legs were trembling, and her ears were pasted down on her head. I eyed her warily, wondering if she’d make it through the night without some sort of breakdown.

Plum caught my expression and looked up at the mare next to her. She must have seen that my mother was close to losing it, because the filly moved closer to her and pressed her shoulder into my mom’s leg.

Mom jumped slightly and looked down into Plum’s uncertain and hopeful smile. Her face ran from suprised to smiling in the space of three heartbeats, and some of the tense stiffness left her posture. Mom sat down to wrap her foreleg around the other side of the filly’s body, bringing Plum into a hug as the two of them quietly watched the officers work.

I felt a surge of guilt. That should have been me, comforting my mother. I’m not sure why it never occurred to me to try.

It was around then that a commotion from outside grabbed my attention, and the captain’s as well. I trotted to the door with Captain Iron Bear right behind me. A familiar purple mare was being held back outside of our gate, the officers sternly warning her to stand back. Mulberry was having none of that, instead pushing forward while frantically calling Plum’s name.

“Let her through,” Iron Bear commanded.

I don’t think Mulberry even saw me as she ran by, wide-eyed and still calling Plum’s name.

“Mom!” Plum cried, leaving my own mother behind as she rocketed towards Mulberry like a little purple cannonball. Mulberry, sobbing, sat on the floor and gathered her daughter up to her in a hug that enveloped the filly whole.

I watched the scene with half a smile on my face. I was glad to see them together, and at the same time, I was sorry that Mulberry had gone through even more trauma. Celestia knows what had gone through her head when she got here and saw all the police outside.

Captain Iron Bear must have been thinking along the same lines, because he left the scene with a satisfied smile. In spite of everything else that had happened that day, there was a mother and daughter who were back together again, which made it a good night.

I moved over to sit next to my own mother while Mulberry and Plum reconnected. Mom had a wistful expression on her face as she watched the two of them. Again I felt a stab of guilt, followed by another of resentment. It wasn’t my fault she didn’t have what those two did.

“So,” I said to fill the silence between us, “did Dad teach you grounding? I didn’t know he did that.”

Mom shook her head. “I was the one who taught him,” she said absently.

I stared at her blankly for a moment. “What?”

“I learned it from your grandfather. Didn’t I ever tell you he was in the military?”

She had. I’d never made the connection.

“Why didn’t you ever mention it?” I asked, genuinely curious. “Heck, why didn’t you teach us? I’ve been making do with what little Dad taught me, and the occasional instructor on the force!”

She blinked a few times, frowning. Looking down at me, she said, “I don’t want you learning that nonsense.”

“It came in useful tonight, didn’t it?” I waved a hoof at the massive mound in our hallway that was the unconscious Breaker. “You saved us with that.”

“It didn’t save your father.” Mom said, her voice emotionless. “In fact, I think it got him killed.”

That was news to me. “How do you mean?” I asked.

“Chocolate wasn’t as good at it as he thought he was,” Mom said, sighing. “I think that overconfidence is why…”

She trailed off, looking away with a grimace and leaving me with my mind whirling.

The words were out of my mouth the moment I realized it. “You’ve been blaming yourself this whole time.”

She flinched and kept looking away from me.

“Yes,” she admitted after a few seconds, laughing bitterly. “Not just me, of course. The pony who did that to him is to blame, too. So is Shamrock.”

“How is Dad’s old partner to blame?” I asked.

“He should have been watching out for him!” Mom snapped. “He let Chocolate down.”

She stood up, anxiety pouring off of her as she started pacing.

“I don’t like this,” she said loudly to nopony in particular. “I want this done with. I want you ponies out of my house!”

The officers who were exchanging Mr. Sunshine’s makeshift restraints with actual police fetters traded a look, but didn’t say anything.

“Mom,” I said softly, placing a hoof on her leg, “they’ll be done as soon as they can be.”

She grumbled something before retreating to her craft room and slamming the door loudly behind her. I sighed, returning my attention to what was going on around me.

Two ambulances had arrived by then, one for Pinwheel and one for Persimmon. The sergeant got into his mostly under his own power, stumbling only slightly as his fellow officers helped him into the back. Persimmon wasn’t afforded that dignity, instead being levitated out on a stretcher by two white-coated unicorn paramedics working in tandem. They loaded her into the ambulance, steadfastly ignoring her slurred assurances that she was just fine walking, thank you very much.

I didn’t know what to say as I walked alongside her stretcher, but I at least wanted to let her know she wasn’t alone. As they loaded her into the back of the ambulance, I managed to catch her eye.

“I’m sorry you got caught up in all of this,” I said.

“S’no problem, Cin’mon,” Persimmon slurred back at me, still under the influence of that powder.

“I’ll come visit you in the hospital,” I promised. “After all, I have the day off from school tomorrow.”

That brought out a lopsided smile. The doors to the ambulance closed with a thunk. I stood in my front yard, watching the lights travel down the road until they faded into the darkness. I spared a moment to glare at the gawking neighbors as I turned and walked back inside.

As I walked back into the living room, I noted that Mulberry and Plum were still sitting together, Mulberry with her foreleg looped around Plum’s shoulders and holding on as if she never intended to let go. The mare looked up and her eyes narrowed as she studied me, her mouth drawing down at the corners. I stumbled slightly before continuing on my way at a slightly slower pace.

“So,” I said, sitting down facing the mother and daughter. “I’m glad you’re alright, Mulberry.”

Plum managed a trembling smile, but Mulberry’s face didn’t change.

“I… Yes. I’m alright,” the mare replied. Her face relaxed a little bit. “I understand I have you to thank for that?”

I snorted. “Whoever told you that was greatly exaggerating my part in this.”

“Maybe,” she said. A tense silence stretched between us. Eventually, she cocked her head and said, “Is it true?”

I grimaced. I was pretty sure I knew what she meant, and I also knew that this wasn’t the best time or place to have this conversation. Still, I owed her the truth.

“Depends on what you mean,” I said. “But if you meant the part about me being a filly because of a patch of poison joke, then the answer is ‘yes’.”

“Oh,” Mulberry said in a small, weak voice.

Plum gasped and looked up at her mom. “How did you find that out?”

“After they got me out of there, they took me to the station to take a statement,” Mulberry said to her daughter, not looking at me at all. “The officers said you were here, and that you were safe.”

She gestured at the scene in front of us. No less than four ponies were lifting the unconscious Breaker. Two were earth ponies, carrying him on their backs. The other two were unicorns, assisting them with glowing horns. And they were still struggling.

“Seems like they were wrong,” she said flatly. She sighed and shook her head. “When they took me home, I had a little talk with your daddy. He mentioned that Cinnamon wasn’t all she pretended to be.”

Guilt twisted in my gut like a worm.

“I’m sor—”

“No,” Mulberry said quickly. She sighed, resting her forehead against a hoof. “Not right now. I can’t deal with this now. It’s been just too much, today.” She laughed bitterly. “I feel like I might just collapse if anything else goes wrong today.”

“Right,” I said, shifting my hooves uncomfortably. I hesitated, trying to think of something to say. In the end, I just got up and walked away. It seemed like the least damaging thing I could do at that moment.

I looked over to see the now vestless Mister Sunshine still lying on his side on the floor of the living room. He should have been able to move, considering that the powder had started wearing off on the others, but he hadn’t said a word this entire time. Instead, I found his flat, cold eyes on me, staring at me levelly, and I had the feeling that they hadn’t left me this entire time.

I stared back, keeping my face calm. I wasn’t going to allow this scum to intimidate me with an obvious, if unspoken, threat.

Captain Iron Bear caught it too. As the zebra was heaved to his hooves by a pair of earth pony officers, the police chief leaned down and whispered something into his ear. I didn’t catch what was said, but whatever it was made Mister Sunshine flick his ears and look back at him uncertainly.

“Get him out of here,” Iron Bear ordered his officers.

The officers on either side of him nodded and started escorting the zebra, who was forced to take tiny, shuffling steps thanks to the hobbles he was wearing. I heard the muttering from the crowd outside quiet down as the zebra was paraded past them and into the back of the second police wagon.

“They’ll be spending tonight under guard in the police station’s infirmary,” Iron Bear said quietly. “No worries. I will not underestimate them again.”

“Thanks, Captain,” I said.

“As for you, Officer Swirl, I thought I told you to go home and rest, not ‘go and apprehend the fugitive criminal mastermind’.” There was a hint of a dry smile under Iron Bear’s bushy mustache.

“Sorry, sir,” I said with my best poker face on. “I won’t let it happen again.”

Captain Iron Bear chuckled. We stood in silence for a moment, watching as his officers took notes and pictures. One unfortunate soul was getting a terse reply from my mom as he tried to get her statement. As Mister Sunshine’s ruined vest was packed in a large plastic evidence bag and brought outside, the captain turned and looked at me with a serious expression on his face.

“You did well tonight, Officer Swirl.”

It didn’t feel that way to me, not right then. Still, an ember of pride started glowing in my chest. “Thank you, sir.”

“What are your plans now?”

“I… ” I frowned as I looked at the massive hole in the wall of our living room. I found myself vaguely hoping that the wall wasn’t load-bearing. “Honestly, sir, I’m not certain. I was supposed to be retired weeks ago, but I didn’t really have any ideas where to go from there.”

“About that,” he said. “Since you went MIA before your official retirement date, regulations say that you’re still officially considered an active police officer until it’s discovered what happened to you. I’m not certain what your status will be on the Ponyville P.D. now that we’ve found you, but I’ve seen enough of you to know that you’ve got a place here. Once you’ve gotten yourself cured, of course.”

My ears snapped upright as I turned slowly to face him. He wasn’t looking at me, instead keeping an eye on his officers as they worked.

“I can be a police officer again?” I asked softly, not quite believing that I’d heard him right.

“I’ll need to review your record, of course,” he said. “Provided that there are no outstanding disciplinary issues, I’d be happy to have you on the force.” He grinned down at me from behind his mustache. “It just so happens that I have several open positions for new officers at the moment.”

My head was reeling, and I felt a little faint. Sure, I’d told my mom I was intending to be a police officer again, but that had been an act of bravado, conjured up in the heat of the moment. This was real. To have it put in front of me like this… it was as if a door that I’d thought closed and barred had been broken open, and I felt my future falling into place. I broke into a broad smile that I couldn’t have stopped if I’d wanted to.

“Sir, I would like that very much,” I said, my voice seeming to come from a long distance away.

“Very good,” the captain said with a curt nod. “See me when you’ve been cured. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to check on how things are progressing.”

I nodded, but I’d barely registered what he’d said. I was vaguely aware that I was grinning an idiot’s grin. I felt like I was glowing, and I felt a tingle crawl down my body. I felt my grin slip at the same time as Plum gasped behind me. It was a sensation I had felt once already. I can’t imagine many ponies ever feel it twice.

“Cinnamon!” Plum’s voice was awed. “You got your cutie mark!”

I glanced back, and a sense of unreality washed over me when I saw a grey-blue police shield on my flank, with a magnifying glass crossed diagonally over it. The joy I’d felt earlier splintered like a broken mirror and crashed down around me.

“That’s not my cutie mark,” I said, my voice hollow in my ears.

Miss Persimmon had warned me earlier that day that I had limits; I was about to be reminded again. This was one shock too many in too short of a time, and my filly body couldn’t handle it. Grey rushed in from my peripheral vision, and I was out before I hit the floor.

~~*~~

I woke from a nightmare to the feeling of being suffocated. I shouted and lashed out, trying to get some air and to get this oppressive weight off of me. I felt soft objects go flying away as I struggled to get upright, the ground beneath me far too soft, shifting nauseatingly beneath my hooves.

Panting, I looked around in the darkness. The only light was from a window, letting in the moonlight. The space I was in was familiar, and it slowly dawned on me that I knew where I was.

I was in my ridiculously frilly princess-style bed, and the damned mountain of plushies had collapsed on top of me. My flailing hooves had scattered the soft toys in every direction, some of them knocking items down from my dresser, others falling harmlessly to the floor.

It took a few minutes for my racing heart to slow back to anything like a normal rhythm. I stood on my bed, sunk into the plush bedspread up past my fetlocks as I panted for breath. The lamp beside my bed had been knocked over, and I struggled for a moment to remove a stuffed penguin from the lampshade before finally turning the light on.

I was groggy and confused as I looked around. My bedroom looked like a war zone, fuzzy soldiers lying injured and scattered across the carpet. I caught my reflection in the mirror, and the night’s events came back to me with an icy, crystalline quality.

I’d fainted. Like some weak little filly, I’d fallen over on the floor. I’d come to with Plum crying in the background and my mother standing over me, her hooves on my shoulders as she rocked me gently and called my name. She had been asking me if I was alright. I had mumbled something back, though I have no idea what it was. My mind had been in a fog, but I vaguely remembered that Mom had bundled me up and rushed me up to my room.

Apparently I’d fallen asleep some time after that. How could I have fallen asleep after what had happened? The mark on my hip was wrong. Completely, totally wrong. How could I have ignored that and just gone to bed like nothing had happened?

When I had been a colt, my decision that I’d grow up to be a police officer had been the defining moment of my young life, calling forth a pair of hoofcuffs to decorate my coat. I’d worn that cutie mark with pride. It had been who I was, how I’d defined myself.

The grey-blue police shield and magnifying glass I was seeing now, that belonged to some other pony. I wasn’t sure who that pony was, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t me.

I turned off the light and allowed myself to fall over on my side before rolling over onto my back. I stared up into the darkness and wondered just what the hell had happened to my life.

I spent the rest of the night alternating between moments of nightmare-plagued sleep and staring wakefulness. At one point during the night I heard approaching hoofsteps. I squeezed my eyes shut at the sound of my door opening.

“Cinnamon?” Mom said softly.

She sounded worried. I lay on my side, keeping my breathing steady and my ears still. It was an old trick I’d learned as a colt. If I flicked my ears, she’d know I was awake.

She stood in the doorway for a few seconds longer before sighing and leaving, shutting the door behind her.

I opened my eyes again, staring out into nothingness while my mind wheeled and whirled. The image of that wrong cutie mark kept flashing up, and every time it did, my mind flinched away from it like a hoof from a hot stovetop.

Was I too late to be cured? That’s what I was wondering about. One of the things, at least. A new mark meant a new destiny. Was I going to be this way forever? If so, could I live with that?

I honestly didn’t know.

My thoughts chased each other in circles until the windows of my bedroom started glowing with the light of the early morning sun. With the light came a restlessness, infecting my legs and shooting up into my brain. I rolled out of bed, all four of my hooves hitting the carpet simultaneously.

I put on my saddlebags before I left my bedroom, shifting them back far enough that they covered that false cutie mark. The bags were uncomfortable in that position, and I’m sure they were going to chafe as the day went by, but I didn’t care. I checked the contents, noting that I had my bit bag, some school supplies and a few other odds and ends.

My police badge wasn’t inside. I looked around the room, but I didn’t see it. I couldn’t make up my mind right then if it mattered where it was. Too much of my attention was with what was going on in my head. Everything else seemed oddly detached, as if what were happening around me was actually happening to somepony else.

I didn’t have any destination in mind when I left the room, all I knew was that I couldn’t be here right now. I’d always considered that bedroom to be a lie about who I was. The darker recesses of my mind suggested that maybe it wasn’t as much of a lie as I used to think.

I snarled and pushed the thought away, but it came back again and again. And with it came another question: Who am I, really?

I walked as quietly down the stairs as I could, making my way towards the front door. My eyes caught on the damaged wall between the hallway and the living room and I stopped for a moment to study it.

It was another thing that was wrong. This house had largely been the same my whole life, present clutter notwithstanding. Now it had been changed. Torn, damaged and broken. There was something vaguely threatening about that. I felt that, even if the wall were to be fixed, I would always be able to see a scar there.

Somepony had gone after the area around the wall with a broom and dustpan, clearing up the debris. Which made that section of hallway the cleanest area in the house, underscoring the strangeness even more.

My hoof was on the bottom step when I heard a soft cough, and for the first time I noticed the distant glow of a light coming from the other room. My mother was in her craft room, likely losing herself in yet another project. I froze where I was for a few seconds, waiting to make sure I was still unheard before moving silently to the front door and letting myself outside.

The sun was just cresting the horizon, tinting the frost-painted grass with a rosy glow. My breath hung frozen in the air and I found myself shivering. The part of my mind that was still paying attention to what was going on noted that winter was definitely around the corner. It was just more background noise for me to tune out as I made my way to the front gate. I scowled as I reached it, seeing that it was listing open drunkenly. I tried to pull it closed, but it wouldn’t latch properly. One of the hinges was twisted, possibly from when the officers tried to carry Breaker through to the police wagon.

I tried again to close it. It refused. I tried again, then again to close that defiant gate, and suddenly I found myself cursing and slamming it over and over again until the top hinge gave way completely, tearing raggedly out of the wood. I stared at it for a long moment, and then I felt something in my mind just give way. I slowly became aware of myself screaming in a rage while kicking and hitting the gate repeatedly until it was nothing but a mass of splintered wood.

I stood panting and sweating in the chill morning air as my sanity started to filter back into me. Shame and embarrassment crept over me as I stared at the destroyed gate, and I wondered where my self-control had gone. My ever-so-helpful brain decided right then was a good time to remind me that I’d spent the last few minutes shouting and cursing at the top of my lungs at an hour when most ponies were probably still trying to sleep.

“Cinnamon?”

My mother’s uncertain voice from the doorway froze my breath in my chest. I glanced back to see her, her mane in disarray and bags under her eyes from a lack of sleep. I wondered how much of my tantrum she’d seen. The humiliation was rising, threatening to swamp what little reason I had left.

“Cinnamon,” she said gently, “why don’t you come in—Cinnamon!”

I ran. I couldn’t face her, so I just ran, pretending not to hear while she called out my name from behind me. I put my head down and galloped through the nearly empty streets until my heart threatened to explode, and then I ran even further.

I finally stumbled to a halt and collapsed next to a park bench some unknowable amount of time later, my heart hammering as a pain like a knife in my ribs made it nearly impossible for me to catch my breath. As I lay on the frozen grass, it didn’t take long for the sweat to cool to ice water, leaving my body shuddering and cramping from the chill that I felt in my bones.

My eyes watered from the pain as I forced myself back onto my hooves. I started walking, my legs trembling like jelly, though I had no destination in mind. I kept my head down, staring at the sidewalk as I simply let my hooves take me where they would.

Early morning commuters weaved around me as I wandered. Most ignored me, though some called out to me, and others cursed me for being underhoof. I barely registered them. My mind kept flashing images of the broken gate, and then added in the shield with the magnifying glass. As wrong and alien as my body had felt when I’d been changed from a stallion to a filly, somehow that unfamiliar mark managed to seem even more wrong than that.

My hooves stopped their wandering and I looked up. I was surprised to see where I was, though I shouldn’t have been. The Puddings’ house. The place I’d found the most comfort for the last few weeks.

I shouldn’t be here. I had no right. Not to their time, not to their company. I’d lied to them about who I was, even though I wasn’t certain of who that was anymore. I’d gotten them into the worst kind of trouble imaginable when I’d meddled in their affairs. This was a family that would have been better off without me.

The windows were dark. I guessed that the family was still asleep, getting some much needed rest. I turned to go, still shivering, and just kept walking.

As the sun came up, the frost on the ground started to recede. That didn’t help the cramping in my legs. My body needed warmth and time to recover but I simply didn’t give a damn. I trudged along in a fog of bleak indifference.

I was in the town square when I finally realized that I did have a destination after all. There was a mare out there who had stuck her neck out for me, and had nearly paid the ultimate price for it. I owed it to her to at least check to make sure she was okay. And, after all, I’d promised I’d visit today.

Hoofington General Hospital had been built shortly before I was born. In fact, I was the fifty-first foal born there, according to a special certificate given to the first hundred foals the hospital staff had helped deliver.

My legs were numb by the time I stumbled in through the revolving doors. The heat from the air prickled my coat, and my skin started registering a pain like pins and needles. I ignored it as best I could, brushing back my mane with a hoof in order to look a little more presentable as I made my way to the front desk.

The nurses on staff all told me what a wonderful student I was, and how touching it was that I was concerned enough to skip class and come see my teacher. I got her room number and made my way through the impersonal white hallways until I found her.

Persimmon was standing by the foot of the hospital bed, scowling into a mirror while she magically moved her brush through a bad case of bed-mane. She jumped a little when I knocked on the doorframe but relaxed as soon as she saw me standing there.

“Cinnamon!” she said, a smile breaking across her features like a sunrise. “You came to visit?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” I said, rubbing a forehoof on the opposite leg.

“Oh, I’m fine,” she said. “My bloodwork came back clean, so they’re letting me go this morning.”

A few seconds of awkward silence floated by between us before she rolled her eyes. “Come on in and stay a while, Cinnamon.”

“Oh, right.” I stepped into the room.

“Everything okay?” Persimmon asked me, concern etching her face. “You look a little rough.”

I ran a hoof self-consciously through my mane. “I didn’t sleep well,” I said, by way of massive understatement. “So, you get to go home today?”

“Glad to be going, too,” Persimmon replied as she turned back to her mirror and started working the brush again. “I have a hard time sleeping in unfamiliar places. And I really, really need a hot shower.”

“I’m just glad to see that you’re okay,” I said. I worried vaguely about the dullness in my voice, but I don’t think she noticed it.

“I started feeling better late last night,” she said as she brushed her mane. “It took a few hours, though. Anything happen after I was gone?”

I glanced back to make sure my saddlebags were still in place. “Not really,” I said. “Sunshine and Breaker will probably be in front of a judge today to see if they get out on bail or not.”

Persimmon looked back at me, eyes wide. “Is that possible?”

I snorted and sat down on the floor. “Unlikely to the point of impossibility. If their other crimes weren’t bad enough, having assaulted several police officers puts a cinch in it. They won’t be setting a hoof outside of prison for decades.”

“Oh, well that’s a relie—Oh my goodness, you’ve gotten your cutie mark!”

My head whipped around to see that sitting down had caused my bag to slip forward just enough to show the edge of the damned thing. I winced and scowled.

“That’s not mine,” I growled.

She cocked her head at me, her mane still half-unbrushed. Somewhere in the back of my brain the stallion I used to be found her semi-disheveled state incredibly endearing.

“What do you mean?”

“My cutie mark is a pair of hoofcuffs,” I said. I pulled my bags forward, showing the entire mark. “This thing just… showed up.”

I glowered at it before snorting and looking away. The school teacher gave me an odd look as she set her brush down.

“You know, Cinnamon,” Persimmon said slowly as she approached me, “in some ways, I think you’re a very lucky pony.”

“Lucky.” My voice was flat and my ears were laid back against my skull. “Oh, yeah. I’m so incredibly lucky. Ripped away from my life, my body, my own mark. Everything replaced with something I don’t want or don’t recognize.” I was vaguely aware that my voice was rising in volume, but I found it hard to care. “I look in a mirror, and I don’t know who’s looking back. I don’t even know who I am anymore! I’m so damned lucky, alright! Just look how lucky I am!”

My voice broke at the end and I turned away. My eyes burned and my throat felt thick and swollen, but I’d be damned if I was going to start bawling in front of her. I held it back with everything I had, gritting my teeth and trying to control my breathing.

“What I meant is that you’ve gotten a second chance to define who you are,” Persimmon said softly. “Hoofcuffs for your first cutie mark, right? Well, that was because you had a simple dream: to become a police officer. But your new mark? I believe that means something different, something more.”

She put a hoof on my shoulder, and I was sorely tempted to knock it away. Instead, I settled on just glaring at her in confusion.

“I’ll tell you what it means to me, Cinnamon. It means that you’ve grown as a pony. Just being a police officer isn’t enough for you anymore. That magnifying glass? I think it means that you’re a pony that will keep looking for the truth, no matter how long it takes. And the shield is obvious.”

“It is?” I asked, interested in spite of myself.

“Yes,” she said with a nod. “It tells me that you’re a pony that will stop at nothing to protect the ones you love.”

I blinked, and an unruly tear used that opportunity to make a break for it down my cheek. Just the one, though. Most of the pressure I had felt behind my eyes had dissipated as Persimmon’s words took root in my mind. But she wasn’t done yet.

“But the cutie mark doesn’t define you, Cinnamon,” she said. “You define it. It’s a reflection of who you already are. You should know that! Everypony who gets their mark learns that lesson. Maybe you’ve just forgotten?” She gave me a smile. “You define your mark, not the other way around. If it’s different now, it’s just because the pony you are now has grown up from the colt you once were. I’d honestly be more surprised if it hadn’t changed.”

It’s funny, strange, and a little bit frightening how just a few words can tilt the entire world on its axis like that, knocking my hooves out from underneath me. My thoughts scattered in more directions than I could count as I tried to absorb what she’d said. The bleakness I’d struggled with all night was still there, still rooted in my heart, but now something else was there too: a kind of fierce and unexpected joy, coupled with an ember of determination that was growing hotter and hotter.

I didn’t have to let what had been happening define who I was. Not this filly’s body, not this new cutie mark, but me. How could I have forgotten that?

And here came the waterworks again. I cleared my throat and looked away, feeling disgusted with myself and my lack of control. Persimmon did me a kindness by turning her back and working on her mane again while I got it out of my system as quietly as I could. After a few minutes she glanced back, then floated me a box of tissues. I blew my nose noisily.

Strangely enough, I actually felt better. Minutes passed as I worked it out in my head. I found myself remembering the feeling of acceptance during Iron Bear’s planning session. I remembered how Plum never once questioned my story after she’d accepted it. And now Mulberry and Persimmon knew as well. This town was full of ponies who knew who I really was.

Could that be enough? I wasn’t sure, but it was a damned sight better than it had been before. I drew in a long, slow breath and held it for a few seconds before pushing it out again. I wouldn’t let a different mark define me. I knew who I was.

“You know, it just occurred to me,” I said after a few minutes. Persimmon paused her brushing to look back at me. “My last cutie mark had me as a beat cop. If anything else, this new one suggests that maybe I’ll be a detective.” I grinned. “I guess I just gave myself a promotion, huh?”

She laughed, and I joined in. It felt good.

“Cinnamon, I… well, I don’t suppose you’re coming back to class now that your secret is out. But I wouldn’t mind if you stopped by sometimes, just to check in.”

I stared at her for a few seconds. Her mane was still unbound, and it fell in a glossy wave down the right side of her neck. The morning sun was coming in through the window, framing her features in a soft glow. I found myself grinning widely in spite of myself.

“I think I can manage that,” I said.

~~*~~

I found myself back out on the town, though with a slightly better attitude than before. I wasn’t hiding my mark anymore, at least. And once again I found myself wandering, letting my hooves go wherever they wanted.

As it turns out, they wanted breakfast.

I found myself outside of a small diner near the hospital, my stomach rumbling at the smell of the greasy food inside. I had three bits and change to my name, and I had no intention of heading home yet. I went inside.

It turns out that three bits and change can just barely afford a stack of kids-sized pancakes, but only if you throw in a hungry look to a sympathetic waitress.

I sat in silence, ignoring the stares around me. I didn’t give a damn what the ponies here thought about the lone filly in the diner by herself. That is, until one of them slid into the booth opposite me. I glanced up, startled to see a familiar pony sitting across from me. I almost didn’t recognize him out of uniform.

“Cinnamon Swirl, right?” he said with an easy grin. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Sergeant Pinwheel?”

“Yup!” he said with an easy smile. “Don’t mind if I join you for a bit, do you?”

“Nah.” I waved a hoof dismissively. “I’m glad to see you back on your hooves. Had me worried last night.”

“Me too,” he said, then snorted and shook his head. “Man, I thought it was all over. Especially when I heard what sounded like half your house coming down!”

“Just a wall,” I said with a smirk. “It turns out that my mom packs a mean kick.”

“So I understand. Hey, is that all you’re eating?” he said as the waitress came out with my kid’s stack of pancakes, each one the size of a bit.

“Yeah,” I said, frowning at the tiny cakes. “I guess so.”

“No way. That won’t cut it at all!” He shook his head and turned to the waitress, who just happened to be walking past our table at that moment. “Sparrow, sweetheart, could you bring out whatever Cinnamon here wants? On my tab.”

Sparrow smiled and reached into her front apron pocket, pulling out a menu and passing it over to Pinwheel, who in turn tried to give it to me.

“Oh, hey, you don’t have to do that,” I said, trying to wave him off while my rumbling stomach cast a dissenting vote.

“Forget it,” Pinwheel said, ignoring my admittedly half-hearted protest. “You saved my life last night. Well, technically your mom did, but close enough. This meal is on me, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Fine, fine. I know when I’m beat.” I chuckled wryly and shook my head. “Thanks.”

“No worries, buddy.” He stood up and put his hat on. “I gotta get to HQ and see if I can talk the captain out of reversing my medical leave so I can get back to work. Enjoy your breakfast!”

“Will do,” I said, nodding. “Take care,” I added, waving as the sergeant left the diner.

My next plate was a little more on the generous side. Three adult-sized pancakes, slathered with butter and doused with syrup, a side of hash browns and two slices of wheat toast with jam and butter. I ate until I felt ready to burst and still had food left over.

As full as my stomach was, that wasn’t what was making me feel contented. It was the way Pinwheel had talked to me. It wasn’t like he’d been talking to a filly, it was as if he were talking to an adult. An equal. It reinforced what Persimmon had told me, that it was up to me to define who I was. Not what the poison joke had done to me, not my new cutie mark.

That feeling alone was worth more than all the pancakes in the world. Not that I hadn’t been trying to cram in every bite that I could, of course.

I left the diner a while later, my digestion working overtime and my stomach purring like a kitten. Sparrow had been kind enough to put the rest of the food into a to-go box that was almost too big to fit into my saddlebag. I had food enough to last me the rest of the day, if I didn’t mind eating it cold.

The day had warmed up considerably, the morning’s freeze a forgotten memory as the sun climbed joyfully overhead. I was surprised to note that it was nearly ten in the morning. I’d been out and about a lot longer than I’d realized.

Still, it looked like it was going to be a good day. I felt a smile growing on my face as I trotted out into the nearly empty streets of Hoofington, pondering my next move. I still didn’t want to go home, but I had no idea what to do next.

My enthusiasm dampened a little bit as I realized that I still owed Mulberry a full explanation. And, assuming she was ready for it, I was going to give it to her. I turned down the street and made my way back to the Pudding residence, my breakfast heavy in my gut and my heart lurching unsteadily.

I was so busy working over what I was planning to say that I arrived at the Pudding house almost before I knew it. Whatever I’d been planning to say evaporated out of my head when I noticed the ambulance parked in front of the house.

My heart twisted as I galloped forward. The front door of the Pudding house was wide open, the interior dark. I ran through the doorway, already drawing in a lungful of air to begin calling for Plum or Mulberry. I hesitated when I heard the sound of voices speaking. I listened for a moment, trying to gauge the mood, but by the tone it was just a casual discussion. I trotted down the hallway until I reached the master bedroom.

Inside the room, two EMT ponies were helping Tapioca up to his hooves. All three of them were stopped mid-motion, and I realized that I’d just barged in on them.

“Is everything alright?” I asked, adrenaline making my voice louder than intended.

“Oh, Cinnamon.” Tapioca said, blinking. “Yes, everything is fine. These fine stallions were just helping me out to the ambulance. I’m going to be staying in the hospital for the next few days.”

“Oh,” I said, the tension draining away and leaving nothing but an overwhelming sense of foolishness. “I’d worried… Well, after everything that happened, that something had happened to Mulberry or Plum.”

A look of pain crossed Tapioca’s face at the mention of his wife and daughter.

“They’re fine,” he said. “I… There’s no easy way to say this, Cinnamon, but Mulberry left for a few days to stay with her sister.”

“Oh.” I was rocked back on my hooves by the statement. My thoughts flashed back to what Mulberry had said the night before, how she might collapse if anything else went wrong.

“She’ll be back,” Tapioca said, though his confidence rang hollow. “She told me she just needed to clear her head.” He grimaced, adding, “Finding out that I’d been hiding all of this from her was a pretty big shock, on top of everything else she’s been through.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.”

The EMTs had been waiting patiently all this time, but now one of them interrupted.

“We really should get going, sir,” the pony said.

Tapioca nodded, forcing himself to his hooves with a grunt of effort. I got out of the way as the three of them made their way to the door. Just before stepping outside, Tapioca hesitated before pulling a set of keys down off of a hook next to the door. He gave them a toss, and I managed to catch them with my forehooves.

“Could you lock up for me, Cinnamon?”

“Sure thing,” I said, my voice steady and not letting on how lost I felt.

Tapioca smiled wearily before allowing himself to be led into the back of the ambulance. By the time I got done locking the door, they were gone.

I stood there in silence for a few minutes before I realized I had nowhere else to go. With a sigh, I turned my hooves towards home and started walking.