//------------------------------// // Tomato Soup // Story: Making Fire and Using Shampoo // by Zeck //------------------------------// Buzzy quivered with pleasure as the hooves ran through her mane and rubbed her scalp. She loved the feeling, and the sensation of the bubbling shampoo against her skin was just icing on the cake. She sighed and sank a little lower in the water. A moment later, a cascade of soaking wet auburn hair spilled down in her view as Lucky Barrel peaked over her head. “You like this a lot,” the mare said. She rubbed her hooves behind Buzzy’s ears and the McColt’s tongue fell out of her mouth. “A whole lot.” “I had no idea washing my mane could be this…enjoyable,” Buzzy replied. She sighed as Lucky started to work on her neck. Her body felt like it was slipping away as the Hooffield scrubbed her down, but it ended all too soon. She let out a little huff of disappointment. “You know, if you’d just grow your mane out, I could wash it longer,” Lucky said as she walked around and sat down in the water across from Buzzy. “Can’t,” Buzzy replied. “Gets in the way of work. Honestly, I don’t know how you deal with it. At least Bertha puts hers in ponytails.” Lucky giggled and Buzzy smiled. “You’ve seen my mane dry. Do you honestly think there’s anything that could keep it in check?” “Hm…well, it certainly didn’t rip when I tugged on it.” “That hurt, by the way.” “I couldn’t help it. There’s just so much of it. I wanted to see what would happen.” After the two ponies had met on that night, they had been secretly meeting. At first it had just been out of curiosity. Neither of them had spoken to another pony outside of their families in years. Sure, the McColts and Hooffields had yelled at each other all those years, but that was hardly talking. They had found that they were both starved for a new pony to talk to, and so they had spent many nights sitting around Buzzy’s fire, eating Lucky Barrel’s late night snacks, and just talking. What had once been a weekly routine for both of them had slowly grown into a nightly one. Some nights, Buzzy wasn’t able to slip away. When that happened, she had found it hard to go to sleep. She would spend those nights wide-awake in her bed, or if she were really restless, she would offer to patrol the walls and spend the time gazing over at the far mountain. Lucky had told her that she did similar things when she couldn’t get away. She would stay up and work in the garden in the moonlight, picking out vegetables and fruits that she knew Buzzy would like, or just sit under the stars and stare at Buzzy’s home. As the pale pink pony sat across from her in the shallow, cool water, Buzzy knew that they were friends. She wondered when that had happened. Had it been the first time Lucky had offered her something to eat, or had it been when Buzzy had asked her to let her try the shampoo? Maybe it was when Lucky had offered to wash her mane for her? Buzzy smiled as she remembered how nervous she had been, and then how fast she had relaxed once Lucky had started. It had felt so good. “How are your sisters?” Lucky asked as she ran her hoof through her hair. “The same as always,” Buzzy said. “They both suspect something. Bertha probably knows, seeing as I’ve been giving her tips on treating her hair. But they haven’t said anything. As long as I keep washing their clothes and letting them come down here sometimes, I don’t think they care.” “Mm…I’d love to get a chance to wash Bertha’s hair,” Lucky said. “It’s so long and thick. Not like this mess that I have to deal with.” “Hey!” Buzzy said, and then she immediately blushed. She hadn’t meant to shout like that. “What?” Lucky asked with a tilt of her head. “I…uh, I like your mane,” Buzzy said as she stared at Lucky’s hair. “Oh, is that what that was about? I thought you were getting jealous.” Buzzy’s cheeks went as red as the tomato she had been hit with earlier that day. “Jealous of my sister’s hair? No way. I already told you that it’s too long. It’d be getting in my face all day.” Lucky grinned. “That’s not what I meant.” Buzzy looked down at the water. “I know,” she whispered. A second later, a wall of water smashed into her face as Lucky splashed her. Her embarrassment vanished with the rush of cool water and she splashed her friend back. They laughed and continued for a while, and then made their way over to the campfire that Buzzy had going. “So what did you bring tonight?” Buzzy asked as she sat down on the blanket-covered log. “Your favorite,” Lucky answered as she sat down right next to Buzzy without hesitation. “Fresh celery with diced carrots, and some tomato soup, if you want to cook it up for us.” Buzzy licked her lips. Her nightly meetings with Lucky had become the highlight of her life, and not just because of her new friend. She got to eat all sorts of delicious things now, so much so that sometimes she would eat a small dinner just to save room. Buzzy pulled out her cooking pot and Lucky dumped the soup in. They hung the pot over the fire and ate the vegetables in peaceful silence while they waited for the soup to cook. After a few seconds, Lucky Barrel leaned her head on Buzzy’s shoulder. The first time she had done that, Buzzy had jumped so high that poor Lucky Barrel had fallen flat on her face. Now though, the mare enjoyed it. It made her heart beat a little faster and— “What are you doing?” Buzzy whispered as Lucky gently took hold of her foreleg. “Shush,” Lucky replied. She slowly guided Buzzy’s foreleg around her back and then placed the McColt’s hoof on her thigh. After that, Lucky scooted in even closer, pressing her body against Buzzy’s. She didn’t make any noise, but Buzzy felt her sigh as she rested against her. “Um…Lucky?” Buzzy whispered. Her heart was in her throat. Her hoof was resting on Lucky’s thigh and it was taking every ounce of willpower to stop it from shaking. “Are you…okay? With this?” “Mm-hm,” Lucky replied quietly. Her mane was tickling Buzzy’s chin, and Buzzy could smell the scent of her shampoo. Buzzy swallowed what felt like a rock in her throat. She carefully flexed her foreleg, pulling the mare closer and relishing the sensation of her hoof pressing against her soft thigh. “So…?” Buzzy asked. “So.” “So.” Buzzy bit her lip and stared at the cooking pot. “Is this…? Are we…allowed to do this?” “I don’t think so.” “We’re in trouble if our families find out. Should we stop?” “I don’t think so.” Steam began to rise from the cooking pot. Just a little longer until the soup was ready. Soon it would start bubbling, and if they didn’t hurry, it would boil over. “Buzzy?” “Hm?” “I…liked it when you pulled my hair.” “Hm.” “If I asked you to do it again, would you?” “Mm.” The sound of bubbling liquid echoed from inside the pot. It was slow at first, but it quickly built up until it was a steady hum. Lucky Barrel shifted in Buzzy’s embrace so that she was looking up at her. Buzzy met her greenish-yellow eyes and wondered if her own purple ones had the same pleading question in them. She bet they did. The pot began to shake as it reached a boil. The two mares leaned in closer to each other, their breaths brushing each other’s faces. “Pull my hair.” Buzzy wrapped the auburn mess around her hoof and pulled gently as she leaned in closer. The small gasp that escaped the Hooffield’s mouth sent a sensation through Buzzy’s body she had never felt before. They drew closer, their eyes locked on each other. The pot whistled as steam escaped. “BUZZY!” Buzzy nearly dropped Lucky on the ground as the voice rang through the night. She looked down at the pony she was holding and saw a reflection of her own terror in the pink face. “BUZZY McCOLT, WHERE ARE YOU?” “Hide!” Buzzy hissed, but Lucky was already scrambling out of her embrace and diving toward the bushes. A moment later, Big Daddy McColt, Bertha, Bow, and several other members of her family came charging into her campsite, shovels and various other tools raised for battle. “Big Daddy!” Buzzy said. She shot a look in the direction Lucky had gone, but she saw no sign of the pony. “Uh…what are you all doing here?” She glared at her two sisters and immediately knew what had happened when Bertha lowered her head and Bow refused to look her in the eye. “Little Bolt said he saw some suspicious activity down on the Hooffield side of the riverbank earlier tonight,” Big Daddy said as he marched up to Buzzy. He barely came up to Buzzy’s chest, but right now she was trembling in his shadow, even as she looked down at him. “He thought nothing of it, but then he overheard your sisters talking about how you hadn’t come back yet.” Big Daddy finally seemed to notice what was before him and his demeanor changed. “What in the name of Grandpappy McColt is all this?” “It’s…uh…” Buzzy looked at her sisters, but she knew she’d get no help from them. “Dinner! Yeah, dinner!” “You already had dinner, girl!” Big Daddy said. “You snuck off just so you could eat more food? Shame on you. And where did you even get all of this?” “Um…it’s a Hooffields?” Buzzy offered weakly. “Excuse me? You best not be having secret dealings with those low-down, dirty, no good—” “Of course not, Big Daddy.” Buzzy shot a look in the direction Lucky had gone and hoped the mare could see the apology on her face. “I…stole it. I was out on a stroll because I couldn’t sleep, and I saw this Hooffield cooking up something that smelled delicious. And, well, since they were on our property, I figured…well, I snuck up on her and made a lot of noise. I think she thought I was a bear, because she took off like a bat. And…I didn’t want to let all this go to waste, so…” Buzzy prayed that Big Daddy would buy her excuse. For a long moment, he just stared at her and tapped his chin, but finally he relented. “Okay, good job, sweetheart. That soup does smell mighty tasty. Let’s take it back with us and we can all have a light-night meal.” “Thanks, Big Daddy,” Buzzy said, relief flooding her body. “But! I don’t want you wandering around at night anymore. If one of those Hooffields had grabbed you, who knows what might have happened.” “But Big Daddy!” Buzzy protested. “No buts! From now on, the night guard will do routine bed checks. No more of these midnight strolls. They’re too dangerous with those treacherous Hooffields about.” Buzzy stood in the middle of her ruined campsite as her family swarmed over it, snuffing out of the fire and taking the pot full of soup; soup that had been meant for her and Lucky. She felt like her world was ending as she watched the last of the fire’s embers die and she was left in the moonlight. “Here,” Bow said. She walked up and draped Lucky’s blanket around Buzzy’s shoulders. Buzzy pulled it close and sniffed it. She could still catch a hint of Lucky’s shampoo on it. “At least Big Daddy didn’t wonder why it was your cooking pot that the Hooffield was using,” Bertha offered quietly as the three sisters followed the rest of their family back up the riverbed. While the statement was true and Bertha meant well, it did nothing to mend Buzzy’s broken world.