//------------------------------// // 37. Lessons in Flight - Part Two // Story: Letters From a Little Princess Monster // by Georg //------------------------------// Letters From a Little Princess Monster Lessons in Flight - Part Two South of Canterlot, on the outskirts of Ponyville, stood a particularly tall and special tree. What made it special was not that it was hollow, or that it had originally grown several miles away, or even the few small strands of royal mane that still decorated the occasional section of bark around the midpoint of the tree. No, what made it special was the ponies who lived inside. Everfree flora evolved to survive, sometimes even rapidly enough to be seen by an unlucky grazer who was about to become fertilizer, although being hollow was not a survival trait for a tree unless it was able to attract a creature who would protect it and help it to grow. Various surviving botanists who studied Everfree plants agreed that their evolution as a species in this direction could not possibly be planned or orchestrated, but only the result of natural selection. Nonetheless, they were baffled at the recent emergence over the last decade of habilis ficus, or the Convenient Hollow Tree, which seemed to be a variant of the endangered species quercus bibliotheca, the Library Oak. Several botanists even claimed that during their travels into the dark and forbidding forest, they had encountered trees complete with hinged doors and shuttered windows at the exact moment they had intended on setting up a campsite, one even going so far as to claim discovery of one with a writing desk and rather lumpy bed. Botanists who were careful to knock before entering and clean up upon departure were always able to find the odd structures when they returned, despite the oddness of the whole concept, although they never were able to find the same convenient place upon returning with more skeptical peers. The huge tree on the edge of Ponyville was older and odder than its apple neighbors, with not only several rooms throughout the trunk and a cavernous space in its root structure, but also a peculiar and obtuse room near its leafy crown that had things ponies called ‘shelves’ and ‘a skylight.’ Everfree magic had permeated its verdant foliage and deep roots to the point where it practically oozed out of the cell walls, and that was before a certain older zebra and her injured foal had moved in. After that, things had gotten strange. Trees twist their leaves to face the sun in order to absorb energy and convert it to food, but the warped and twisted pony who had lived and loved inside the tree for the last twelve seasons had twisted the tree in a manner more metaphysical than physical. Sometimes dangerous, sometimes vulnerable, and always powerful, the tree had to be on the tips of its roots whenever the pony was around, but lately the danger had been dampened and the power grown to a pure and wonderful flood that made it fairly bloom with joy whenever she was present and droop in sadness when she was gone. In the wide room at the top of the tree, where Zebrican scrolls and other arcane relics of concealed lore rested uneasily in their respective cubbyholes and nooks, Zecora looked up suddenly and stared out the nearby open window. “Where is my Flower in this late hour?” “Not sure,” said Trixie, nearly totally surrounded by scrolls and little colorful bits of sticky paper. “She’s probably hanging around with her friends.” * * * “Let me go!” screamed Scootaloo, flapping her tiny wings in a flurry of dust and sharp fragments from the nearby cliff face. “I can fly! I know I can! Just let me try!” There was no immediate answer from the sharp edge of the ledge above her, only the scrabbling of tiny hooves trying to brace themselves in the loose gravel that covered the narrow precipice. A rain of tiny pebbles showered down around Scootaloo as the tip of a glowing horn appeared above her and a badly stressed voice stammered, “N-n-no!” * * * “So where did my daughter go?” asked Zecora, looking out the window of her tree library with the wind gusting around her ears. “I dunno,” muttered Trixie, holding up a wad of knotted cords and turning it in her magic while checking her notes. “Something about going to catch Scootaloo while we try to decipher some of your weird zebra writings. I think they’re practicing flying. I hope they don’t do something stupid.” “Like you would do?” asked Zecora, turning to look at the suddenly uncomfortable unicorn. “Uh. Yeah.” Trixie looked up and tossed the knotted cords back on a shelf. “I wouldn’t worry. Menace promised she wouldn’t try flying without an instructor.” “Uh-huh,” said Zecora. “And did this promise upon which you depend also bind her pegasus friend?” “Oh, yeah.” Trixie picked up an oddly-shaped rock and turned it in the afternoon sunlight slanting in through the window, seemingly entranced by the shifting runes that changed with every exposure to light. “Well, she’s pretty responsible. I’m sure she’ll keep her friends from doing anything stupid.” * * * Scootaloo buzzed her wings as hard as she could, which resulted in a cascade of more pebbles from the ledge above her as Twilight was dragged into sight by her frantic efforts. The little alicorn had her eyes nearly closed with sweat pasting her short mane against her dusty neck, but the magical grip on Scootaloo’s tail never flickered for a moment, even when one small hoof skidded on the loose gravel and kicked a few more pebbles down on Scootaloo. Twilight was fighting as hard as she could, but one tiny bit at a time, Scootaloo was slowly dragging her friend farther out on the crumbling ledge with every frantic tug on her magically-held tail. “I’m not letting go,” filtered down from above. “I don’t want you to d-die.” “I’m not going to die!” screamed Scootaloo, flapping her wings into a powerful buzz until it felt as if her tail was going to tear off. “I’m going to fly! Let go or I’ll pull you off the ledge! I mean it!” * * * Zecora walked over to the window and looked out at the way the late afternoon sun was reflecting off the vast collection of apple trees outside. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes while she spoke. “I do not understand how you can sit without alarm when your friend and sister could be risking great harm.” Trixie shrugged. “Trust in Harmony.” Although Zecora turned away from the window and glared at the impassive unicorn, Trixie continued to rotate the oddly-shaped and marked rock in her magic, eventually picking up a second rock and holding them side by side. “That’s what Princess Celestia always used to say to me. Used to drive me crazy at times. I’d be all tied up inside about some presentation or show and she would just glide by and say those three words like she knew what was going to happen and it wasn’t that bad. Ha!” Trixie picked up a third rock and held it next to the other two. “All that talk about predestination and fate is just hot air. We are what we make out of life, no more, no less, and no Neighponese fortune cookie can change that. Our decisions shape our world, and your daughter makes far better decisions than I ever could.” Zecora’s glare turned volcanic for a moment until she turned and looked out the window again. “Trust in Harmony is what you said,” she growled, “but that is no comfort for the dead.” * * * “I don’t care!” Twilight’s voice filtered down from above as Scootaloo strained her wings to an orange blur, gaining a few more inches of progress towards her goal while more small pebbles rained down. “I’m not losing you!” “You have to let go, Twilight!” shouted Scootaloo. “Let go before you fall…” Undersized wings stopped cold as both of Twilight’s front legs fell off the edge of the ledge, leaving the tiny purple filly nearly over the precipitous drop. “No! Let go, Twilight! You can’t fly!” “You c-can’t either,” rasped her friend. “I’m not letting go. If you die, I’m going with you.” More little rocks rained down as Twilight scrambled backwards, slowly and inevitably pulling the unresisting pegasus up after her by the tail. “But I could fly,” wailed Scootaloo. “I know it.” “You’d fall,” said Twilight. “I know.” One short tug followed after another until Scootaloo was dragged onto the tiny flat spot on top of the towering rock and Twilight wrapped her up in a bone-crushing hug far too strong for such a little filly. Tears finally burst out as she held onto Scootaloo and buried her nose in her friend’s sweaty neck. “You have to trust me,” gasped Twilight between sobs. “I saw it. I saw you fall.” “I-I trust you, Twilight,” said Scootaloo, holding onto her sobbing friend and adding a few tears of her own. “I trust you. I just wanted to fly.” “You’ll fly,” whispered Twilight. “I promise. You just have to trust.” * * * “—in Harmony,” said Tallgrass, looking up in the sky with the rest of the zebra mares in his peculiar and quite elderly herd. The rather odd cloud, an escapee from Cloudsdale’s well-guarded inventory, had been twisted and contorted by the breeze as it drifted, as well as reduced by the occasional pegasus who saw an opportunity to grab some free building material. From its lazy course, he judged that it would be carried along on the prevailing winds until it drifted across Ponyville, and from there to the Everfree Forest, if it was not scavenged into a few small scraps during the trip. Perhaps one of the pegasi who had ‘borrowed’ some of its substance had a talent for sculpture, although they would have been a rather odd pony to have carved the puffy white thing into what it seemed to be now. The ragged cloud looked for all the world like a pegasus filly falling out of the sky, with legs and tail above in a helpless turtle-like pose while undersized wings were tucked up on its flanks as if paralyzed in fear. “What is that you say, young colt?” rasped Old Kavu, an elderly mare with seven heavy golden neck rings and a corrosive wit as sharp as a jagged broken bottle. “Do your young eyes spy something in the sky that we old and wise ones do not?” The oldest of the zebras looked around at the rest of her female peers with a derisive sniff. All of them wore matching expressions of distaste directed at Tallgrass and his male zebra disguise, which he had determined was going to stay on until long after he had seen the last of them. After all, the elderly Imetabiriwa had no qualms informing him that the lands of Zebrica had been changeling-free for centuries, although they refused to say exactly what had happened to the changelings who had been there before. If they did not know he was a changeling, he was not going to tell them, and if they did know, it would not matter if he told them, so he kept his mouth shut and gauged his words carefully. “I was just looking at the cloud,” said Tallgrass. “Certainly it means something. The spirits of the air would not have brought it here just for us to admire their skill at sculpture.” “Baa!” snapped Tafadhali, whose name meant ‘Please,’ although in all probability she had never uttered that word in her entire angry existence. “The spirits of this place are all fools. They dance and sing for no reason.” A second zebra mare snorted and pawed at the ground, kicking away several dry clumps of dirt from where the group had stopped for a grassy lunch. “Only a cloud there what we seek lies far beyond come, let us be off.” “Which way, Mshairi?” asked Old Kavu with a dangerous spark in her eye and a sideways glance at Tallgrass. “We have been walking for many days, and my old bones are tired. I’d like to find the Imetabiriwa na Anga before the earth spirits call me home. Which way do you think we should go, young colt?” In one blinding flash, Tallgrass could see the answer as if it had been burned into his mind, and he damped his connection to the hivemind so as not to disturb the rest of the changelings with his vivid vision. Deliberately, he turned so his tail was pointed at Ponyville and began to walk with slow, constant steps. Five minutes later, after the rest of the zebra mares had belittled him into turning around, he kept pace beside the elderly Imetabiriwa who seemed the most amused by his efforts. “You are a young fool, Tallgrass,” said Old Kavu. “Young and without the experience that the spirits have given your wise elders. It is fortunate for you that we are here to give you the benefit of our years.” “Yes, indeed,” agreed Tallgrass, trying not to hurry his pace in anticipation of returning home to his wife and odd child. While above the zebras and the disguised changeling, the rather odd cloud drifted along. * * * “Going to be dark soon.” They had been cuddled together for hours of wordless togetherness, but it was time for the words to begin again, and Monster had found that stating the obvious was a good way to contribute to a conversation when she did not feel like saying anything. Sometimes it even triggered the answer to a difficult question she wanted to ask but was afraid to actually put into words. “I don’t want to spend the night up here,” sniffled Scootaloo, relaxing a little to look around the stunning view they had from their tall rocky spire, although Monster still kept a firm magical grip on her tail, just in case. “I’m not sure we can climb down. There were a few spots where I almost…” Scootaloo trailed off and hunched her shoulders. “Fell,” completed Monster. “Me too. Scared. More scared I would lose you. Didn’t look down. Scared of heights.” “You could teleport us down,” suggested Scootaloo a little reluctantly. “Too scared,” said Monster, holding Scootaloo tighter and stopping a growing tremble that threatened to make her clamp down with bone-crushing force. “Trust me?” “Of course I trust you, Twilight!” said Scootaloo. “I’m just a little mad at you for keeping me from… jumping.” “Dying,” said Monster, clutching onto her friend until the trembling stopped. Scootaloo ran a hoof carefully through Monster’s short but still tangled mane, eventually spreading a wing across her friend and holding very still until she could feel the little alicorn relax and the hammering beat of her heart had slowed to something a little more reasonable. “I trust you,” said Scootaloo. “You’re one of my best friends, and if you say I was about to do something really stupid—” “Not stupid,” said Monster with a sudden increase in hug pressure. “You’re not stupid. It was a decision. It makes sense. Afraid of flying. Afraid of dying. One fear bigger than other fear. Still wrong. Don’t know why. Just know.” “You mean it’s like one of those neat zebra star thingies?” Scootaloo looked up into the sky as if expecting a star with a label on it to suddenly pop into view as the sun descended below the horizon and the moon gracefully ascended with its torrent of brilliant stars. “Which one?” “Not star.” Monster shook her head, unable to make the words come out. “I saw you fall. It’s… complicated. Need help. Lie down.” “Okay, Twilight. I trust you.” Scootaloo settled carefully on the loose rock shards and looked at her friend with wide eyes as Twilight rested her stubby filly horn against her head. “I trust you,” she repeated, “but I’d still like to know what you’re doing.” “Calling a friend.” ~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~ After an extremely long period of looking out the window while Trixie stacked Zebrican rocks and rotated them against each other, Zecora stood up and deliberately walked over to wrap her houseguest up in a powerful hug. “Thank you,” said Trixie, with more than a little hesitancy once the hug was over. “I think. What did I do?” “The burden of my daughter has grown over the years, until friends she has gained to calm her great fears. Although to others your methods may seem reprehensible, to me they no longer seem so incomprehensible.” “Thank you, I think. Again.” Trixie waved at the collection of Zebrican scrolls stuffed in various cubbyholes all over the room. “As long as we’re on such a good note, this would go a lot faster if you would just let me write on—” “Those scrolls of Zebra lore should be treated with care and respect, for they are the only ones which you have to inspect. If you wish to inscribe them with quill and ink, a copy you could make upon which to think.” “I wish,” muttered Trixie. “Watch this.” She held up a sheet of zebrican writing and made her horn glow gold. “Observe your neighboring tribe’s writing when seen by sun, and now—” her horn glowed silver and several of the runes changed “—by moonlight. It takes a particularly twisted mind to think like this, and I already sent word to one of the most twisted.” She paused with one hoof up, then checked her watch before a knocking echoed up from downstairs. “He’s late,” declared Trixie, vanishing down the staircase and returning in a few minutes with a rather shaggy pale turquoise unicorn with a dark blue mane, who looked around the scroll and zebrican artifact-packed room with a near-physical hunger. He sat nervously on his rear while waiting for Trixie, reaching out for nearby scrolls before pulling his hooves back several times. Behind him followed a unicorn mare in a police officer’s cap, who regarded the room with a much more subdued expression. “Zecora of Zebrica, I would like you to meet one of the most gifted minds in Equestrian encryption and codes. Crypto, this is Zecora, Twilight Sparkle’s adopted mother.” As Zecora nodded, and Crypto grinned nervously, Trixie cast an evaluating glance at the quiet policemare, who did not make a single move to identify herself. “I was unaware that Trixie’s friends had the kinds of skills on which she depends.” “He’s not really a friend,” scoffed Trixie. “I met him in jail once before Celestia bailed me out, and we’ve crossed paths a few times since. He’s a gifted codebreaker who speaks a dozen languages better than the natives and can break any security spell in Equestria.” Trixie eyed the impassive policemare to his side. “Are you his keeper or his wife, Ma’am?” “Keeper,” said the policemare. “Lieutenant-Commander Grace of the Canterlot Police Department, on detail at Princess Celestia’s personal request.” Trixie looked between the two unicorns. “Wow. Either you screwed up royally to get stuck with this escort duty or Crypto did to deserve a Lieutenant-Commander as foalsitter. Which is it?” Grace’s lips pursed slightly and she shifted her stance, which Trixie read just as clearly as if she had held up a sign that indicated the mutual magnitude of screwup that would send both of them to such a small town. “Mister Crypto was found in the Celestial Vaults, attempting to gain access to the Elements of Harmony.” A low whistle escaped Trixie as she looked at where Crypto was ever so cautiously floating a scroll out of a nearby cubbyhole. “You broke into The Vault, Crypto?” “Wanted to see the security,” muttered the pale unicorn, sitting the scroll down on a nearby table and beginning to open it with the delicacy of a surgeon. “He had nearly accessed the Inner Vault,” said Grace, her lips drawn into a thin line. “Was on the way out,” said Crypto, gently pinning down the edges of the scroll as he unrolled it. “Disappointed. Fourteen character thaumaturgically-active encryption matrix bypass for the whole thing. Could have jimmied it with a hoof file. Shush. This is interesting.” “Hoof file?!” Officer Grace was noticeably upset and moved towards Crypto only to be stopped by Trixie’s outstretched hoof. “Let him work, Officer Grace. He can’t lie worth a hoot, but there’s no denying his gift,” said Trixie. “There’s a dozen vault companies in Equestria who keep him on retainer. There’s a vault in Manehattan that he designed that the company still can’t get into.” “Nightmare Moon,” muttered Crypto, setting down the last of the rocks around the unrolled scroll and getting out a jeweler’s loupe to examine it. “Kept the moon up. Scrambled the encryption time codes. I’ve got some ideas.” Zecora got up to stand beside Trixie. “Officer, please do not reject his eager willingness to inspect. This lore is protected by the wisest of our kind, and to read it will take a special mind.” “This is so cool,” murmured the pale unicorn, finishing his first pass over the nearby scroll as if it were some ten-thousand year archaeology find that would crumble to dust at the slightest encouragement. “Actual Zebrican Imetabiriwa writings from the Tortoise Tribe. The original copies even. They use the blood of Ibex mixed with turtle dung to hold the metaphasic quantities of the runes so they can be stacked, but I’ve never actually seen one before.” His tongue darted out and touched the surface of the scroll ever so gently before Crypto sat down and started at the ceiling. “Hoptoad venom. Very deadly in a larger dose. A forgery would never bliss fargle medifanunt garblemud fibdigeriet...” “I said he was gifted,” said Trixie as they laid the rigid stallion on the floor so he would not hurt anything when he fell down. “I didn’t say he was smart.”