Rarity woke up with the smell of a stallion in her nostrils. It took her back to one of her earlier suitors; a charming and erudite unicorn who headed a survey company exploring the land west of Seaddle. Chalk Tip, his name was. He was the first pony she had gone to bed with. Not slept with, no, she kept that name secret. But Chalk Tip was the first pony of the opposite sex she had slept next to, in a bed. They had just gotten through an exhausting schedule of art museums and electronic music outlets - she appreciated the composition in both. When they got back to their hotel room, they had simply collapsed in each other’s hooves and gone right to sleep, and while it had been terribly romantic, Rarity cherished the memory for another reason.
Sleeping next to Chalk Tip all night gave her the distinct scent of stallion, or at least what she thought a stallion should smell like, and every one she had dated since, she liked the most the ones who reminded her of that smell. Earthy, coarse, and hot on the nose with the faint tang of musk and the bitter whiff of sweat from a hard day’s work, balanced by a sweetness and mildness that reminded her of evergreens and fresh rainfall. Not a wholesome, traditionally pleasant smell like a wood fire or the artificial and often overwrought aromas of, say, a relaxation candle. It was lovely for its sincerity, for its uniqueness. Only a real stallion who wasn’t afraid of being a stallion smelled that way, who lived a particular lifestyle so their bodies exuded a scent that matched their mannerisms.
She took a deep breath and buried her nose in soft, golden fur. That was Braeburn next to her, and he smelled exactly like a stallion should. Maybe a little heavy on the sweat, but she could forgive that due to the hot sun.
She had her snout buried in his neck so his mane tickled the bridge of her nose. Somehow, they had both curled even closer than they were the night previous. She was sprawled across his chest while he lay spread-eagle on his back, one foreleg curled tightly around her withers. With her ear on his chest, every breath of his was like listening to the bellows of a factory, and beneath it the steady thump-thump of his heart. She slept in an extremely unladylike way, and she could not have been happier.
As she raised her head, slowly as not to wake him, she got a good view of what he looked like asleep. She realized she’d never seen that before. His belly stretched taut, muscles on full display, and she allowed herself to stare. He wasn’t broad and huge like Big Macintosh, nor did he have the svelte form of, say, Fancypants or Trenderhoof. He was trim and sleek, all tough muscle stretched tight over an agile frame that could carry a pony for miles without breaking a sweat. His strong legs fell a little on the long side. If he had wings and a blue coat, he could pass for a stallion version of Rainbow Dash any day. All in all, Rarity decided he was just the right size. She could already imagine a whole new line of western-style designer jackets for stallions like him. And pants. Tight pants.
His mane spilled over his shoulders, tousled and unkempt. Natural curls gave it volume and bounce, just enough to give it the freedom to run wild. She ran a hoof over it, enjoying the gentle sensation as she would petting her cat Opalescence to relax. Of course, a sleeping Braeburn was a mite easier to caress than Opal on any given day.
“To think,” she whispered to herself, “I very nearly decided not to say hello those months ago at the reunion. Wouldn’t that have been a tragedy.”
For a few minutes more she lay in contented silence, stroking his mane and listening to the town slowly awaken. There was no hurried bustle to finish chores today. Everypony must have felt as exhausted as her. Braeburn’s eyes fluttered open as she laid her hoof on his chest. His gaze swung around the room and came to rest on Rarity, and he smiled lazily. It was an absolutely adorable smile.
“Hey, Rares,” he said. “You have a good rest?”
“You’re all muscle and no comfortable love handles,” Rarity said with a huff. “I barely slept a wink.”
“Up all night staring then?”
She gasped and gave him a very gentle bump on the shoulder. “Now that is just presumptuous!” And partially true. “But of course I slept well with you, you silly.” She nestled her head into the crook of his neck. “Ponies will talk though, if we go outside hanging off each other like this.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Well, most of it will be true, so, no. But it’s good to be ready for it.”
“After yesterday,” Braeburn said, curling his hoof a little tighter around her, “I feel like I’m ready for anything. ‘Specially if you’re there.”
Rarity blushed and snuggled tighter against him. “This all feels so wonderfully… natural. Like we’ve been doing this for years.”
“I’ll take that as a good sign.”
“Braeburn,” she said, idly twirling a hoof through the fur on his chest, “are you really ready for this? Are we?”
“Ready for what?” Braeburn answered, moving the tip of his hoof in lazy circles around her cutie mark.
“You know,” she said, “this. What we’re doing. I feel like we’ve come to an agreement, even one not explicitly stated. That we’re ready to go beyond pen pals and longing gazes.”
Braeburn was silent for a time, and when he spoke, it was slowly and deliberately. “Way I see it, Rares… romance an’ all that… ponies make a big deal about feelings an’ gut instinct an’ all. But I’m an earth pony. I feel, sure, but what’s important to me is what I do. I could feel whatever I wanted about Appleloosa, but none of it woulda made a lick a’ difference if I didn’t pack up, move here, an’ build it with my own four hooves. Same deal with us. We could feel all the live long day, but… I’m bein’ honest here… either one of us coulda got all awkward an’ cold-hoofed an’ left any time. But we’re choosin’ to stay. S’what we decided to do. An’ what I feel is matchin’ up pretty closely with what we’re doin’ right now.”
He turned his head down and looked her in the eyes. “So yeah. I’m ready.”
Rarity didn’t mean to fall into the kiss like she did. One moment she was looking at Braeburn with desperate affection, and the next their mouths were gravitating towards each other, an electric tingle like static building up between them. She felt a rush of intense heat and a cold splash of ice water, a rumble thrumming through her veins, saw stars burst behind her eyes. Their lips touched just barely and she felt a wonderful pressure like she might explode, yet everything pressed inwards too, narrowed down to that tiny little space between their noses. They bumped awkwardly together like ponies finding each other in a dark room, laughed at their own nervousness, and then fell together with such smoothness it was like his lips were soft butter, and just as sweet. She sighed needfully, vulnerably, and pressed in closer, tilting her head so they fit better together, and both his strong arms were around her and she was laying on his chest and nothing felt better than this bed, this stallion against her skin.
With a gentle smeck of noise they pulled apart, their mouths hanging open, breath mingling in the space between, eyes half-lidded. They both shivered like leaves about to fall, and held each other tighter to quell it.
Braeburn panted, “What… Um… That…”
“I think that was a good one,” Rarity said.
Braeburn swallowed hard. “Y-Yeah. Um. One more?”
Rarity nodded. “One more.”
It became three, and then five, and then ten, before they finally agreed enough was enough and pulled apart. There was a moment of hesitant indecision before their hooves finally left one another, and she had to stand on hard, unyielding wood floor. Then Braeburn bumped against her sans vest and she felt his warmth again, and smiled as she slipped into the bathroom.
“There are, of course, still a few loose ends to tie up before we move on to the next stage,” Rarity said as she turned on the shower faucet. “Bona Fide is still out there. I don’t feel right leaving her to her own devices.”
“She made her choice,” Braeburn said from behind the bathroom door. “Besides, I doubt she’ll speak to anypony after yesterday.”
“She’s had time to cope,” Rarity replied. “The times a pony wants to be alone are often the times when they should not be left alone. They tend to lose perspective. Still, I think it best if I go and speak to her by myself. Bonny doesn’t strike me as the kind of pony who responds well to being pressured. Going in force will just reinforce her vitriolic need to defy us.”
“You sure? I think I’d be a good help.”
Rarity stepped behind the shower curtain, shivering under the lukewarm water. “I don’t doubt it, but trust me. You don’t have to prove anything, Braeburn. This is merely something I feel I must do myself.”
———
Rarity walked down the streets of a changed Appleloosa. Most ponies wouldn’t spot it at first glance, but she did. One needed a keen eye, the kind that spotted how a dress looked when a pony moved their flank in just such a way, or the subtle glint of light off a shade of makeup.
Ponies walked with less of a hunch in their shoulders. All of the tunnels from the Dust Dog attack had been filled in. Ponies kept their eyes up and didn’t hide their faces. Sand and grit still clogged the air, yet it felt less oppressive. She thought, A cloud has lifted, and ponies can look up at a free sky again. She glanced upwards to check—sure enough, even the sky looked a lighter shade of blue than yesterday.
Ponies had come around to a new day and a new way of thinking. They all seemed poised to take their first steps to the future.
All except the house outside of town on the hill, beneath the spreading branches of trees. It looked far more lonesome now, with everypony but Bonny of one mind. She had no more friends in town, or at least no friends she wanted to acknowledge. The chicken coop overflowed with untended birds, the gate hung lazily off its latch, and no lights shone in the house that Rarity could see. For a brief moment she thought Bonny might have skipped town, but then the front door banged open, and out came Rusty Hinges. He stormed into the street, looking up at Rarity only when he nearly bumped into her. His big eyes scrunched between narrow brows.
“Will ya talk some sense into her? Please?” he asked, and charged away toward the apple orchard, leaving the door open behind him.
Bonny came outside soon after, giving lackluster chase to her little brother. She stopped dead when she saw Rarity, and gave only a sad little sigh before sitting down on the porch, taking the ribbons out of her hair. Her head hung in defeat as she idly played with her ribbons, stretching them out until they almost tore. A gust of wind tousled their manes. On the far eastern horizon boiled a wall of dust. A sandstorm, maybe.
“You’re very pretty when you aren’t scowling all the time,” Rarity said.
Bonny scoffed, not meeting Rarity’s eyes. “That boy can sure throw a tantrum when he wants to,” she whispered. “Got his Ma’s temper, Dad said once. Quiet like thunder waitin’ to burst out of a cloud.”
“He’s quite remarkable, being so grown-up yet having so few grown-ups around.” Rarity let the lure dangle. Bonny only grunted and rubbed at her bloodshot eyes.
“Did you sleep at all last night?” Rarity asked.
“‘Course not, no thanks to you,” Bonny growled. “Got nothin’ left in this town. Gonna be movin’ out soon. Find somewhere else to live.”
Rarity blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
Bonny tossed her ribbons to the side and leveled a sarcastic glare at Rarity. “Move. You know, uproot. Skedaddle. Vamoose. Get outta Dodge. Rusty’s comin’ with. That boy sure can throw a fit, but he’ll understand.”
“I’m not sure he will,” Rarity answered. “And I’m sure I don’t either. Why exactly is Appleloosa broadening its horizons enough to drive you away? Surely it’s not just to spite me?”
“I’d be lyin’ iffen I said that weren’t at least a small part,” Bonny sighed, wandering back inside. “But no, it ain’t just you. Now look, I don’t have time or inclination to go explainin’ myself to you. My private affairs are pretty much all I got left in this town. No way I’m gonna parcel ‘em out now.”
Rarity tsk’d under her breath, struggled to keep her own growing frustration in check. She followed Bonny without invitation—not that Bonny seemed to care. Rarity was too tired to keep up pretenses much longer herself. The house was much as she’d seen before: sparse, dour, and devoid of many sentimental things.
She watched Bonny sit down on a long couch in the living room. Papers littered the floor. A quick glance saw plans for apple orchard management and letters to and from every corner of Equestria. Many of them bore very official watermarks from companies she didn’t deal with, but their names had a lot to do with real estate and banking. Bonny buried her face in a pile of them, rifling through it.
“Well, go on,” Bonny said. “Tell me.”
“Tell you what?” Rarity asked innocently. She hoped it didn’t come across as wheedling.
“‘Bout how you’re gonna be my friend, or whatever, an’ you hope that since this is behind us, we can just sashay off into the sunset hoof in hoof. The usual.”
Rarity cleared her throat. What a shame that Bonny found friendship cliche. Rarity personally would have loved it all to end so tidily. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Bonny’s jaw tightened. “Don’t you be coy with me. Not in my own house. You’re the Element of Generosity an’ all, this is what you do. More like Element of Busybody. Nobody asked you to come. Nobody asked you to bring those city folk here. An’ I didn’t ask you to go bargin’ into my business.”
“Appleloosa is everypony’s business,” Rarity snapped. “What exactly made you think you could claim ownership of this town and its ponies? What made you that desperate?”
Bonny stared at her, wide-eyed, like an owl caught in torchlight. Her arguments rang hollow now. There was no point in being this stubborn, except to simply be small-minded and malicious. She just needed to push a little further, and Bonny would crack like an egg.
“Your fondness for being vague and aloof was curious at first, I’d daresay even exciting,” Rarity said, pointing her nose up. “But now it reeks of self-importance and childish pettiness. Rusty isn’t the only one throwing a tantrum here, Bonny. I have had my suspicions from the start, but now I see it plain as the cutie mark on your flank: You have been hiding all along, from your town, from your brother, and from yourself. This is not the first time you have run away from a problem, and you will keep running away, forever and ever, until something forces you to stop. And on that day, when you pick up your things and turn up your nose, still trying to convince yourself that nothing can hurt you, nothing can hold you, and it all wasn’t your fault—you will stumble. You will shatter to pieces on the wall you’ve built up around yourself, and it will do nothing less than destroy you. I am offering you this one chance to break early, while there is still a chance to put yourself back together.”
She stepped forward, nearly going nose-to-nose with the other mare. “I know almost everything save the gory details, Bonny. You are hiding from nopony but yourself. There is no point in holding up this charade any longer. Please. I am asking you. Tell me what’s really happening.”
Bonny gulped. Her cheeks puffed out ridiculously, and she looked to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown or a psychotic episode. Rarity braced for some kind of assault, verbal or physical. But then, in a small, quiet voice, she said, “Fine,” and slumped to her flanks, resting against the couch.
“I come from Manehattan. You figured that from the accent. I was born there, me and my brother. Rusty Hinges isn’t his first name—our parents called him Penny Pincher. That should tell you what kind of ponies they are. We picked out the name Rusty Hinges after we left. Thought it was fitting for all the fuss he can put up when he’s of a mind. But I was born Bona Fide. Because that’s what I am. The real deal, the big cheese, what have you. You have to have that kind of attitude, you know, in Manehattan.”
“I know that too well,” Rarity whispered.
“Not really,” Bonny said, without much hostility. “Not like I did. My parents have hooves in a lot of pies, and they never let me forget it. I was born into wealth, you know. Born into having to know money, how to spend it, where, on whom. I was born with a bit in my hooves, my parents liked to say. But that wasn’t good enough. Nothing ever was. From day one they had me pegged as the heiress to their empire. They expected me to shoulder their burdens, to uphold their little dynasty. I have apples for a cutie mark, Rarity. Apples. Not bits or some corporate logo. I couldn’t do it, didn’t want to, and they knew it. It didn’t stop them from trying of course. Saddling me with responsibilities beyond my years and desires. Introducing me to royalty and nobility and taking me to board meetings. I bucked hard against the trend and they just pushed harder.”
She wandered into the kitchen and pulled a jug of cider out from under the sink, taking a long swig from it.
Another secret you’ve been trying to hide, thought Rarity. Without the drink you feel everything you’ve been trying to ignore.
Bonny gulped down another mouthful and slapped the jug down on the kitchen table. “Every venture I started, every coltfriend I had, every class I took, every spoonful of cereal I ate was watched. Judged. Measured. If it wasn’t good enough, not ‘proper’ enough, it was thrown out. Discarded. I acted out like any teenager would, but they always reeled me back in with heartfelt apologies and expensive gifts. The breaking point came late in my schooling years, when I refused to go to some upstanding university they had planned out for me. After an argument that nearly burned down the mansion they finally figured out I wasn’t going to be the perfect little scion they wanted and ran me off the farm, so to speak. Sent me on a Grand Tour of Equestria, never to return until I made something of myself. Or until they give up and give the inheritance to my cousin or something.”
“And where does Rusty come in?” Rarity asked.
That triggered another long, long gulp of cider. Bonny wiped her mouth with the back of her hoof when she finished, looking more wild-eyed and harried than before. “I kept that kid sheltered as long as I could. Tried to protect him.”
She shuddered with what might have been bitter laughter. “Maybe I poisoned him against our parents, or he just hated being the consolation prize after I turned out a disappointment. He turned out rebellious as I did, maybe worse. Lotta anger in him, especially after I left. Meanwhile I found a life building homesteads. Sent letters. Convinced the folks the country air was doing me good. I expected to be ignored. But they sent Rusty out not long after I left… couldn’t stand him any more than me, I expect. And to keep him out of their hair while they get our future empire set up. But I don’t want what’s theirs.” Her gaze turned steely. “I want what’s mine. Away from them, and their clammy, grabby hooves. Away from ponies like you.”
Rarity ignored the potent jab, though she longed to retort with something sarcastic and stinging. “And just what,” she said, “do ponies like me do?”
“You meddle!” Bonny snapped, stamping her front hooves. “You meddle and poke and prod and ask stupid questions and play everyone’s sympathies so you’re always the victim! You judge and you watch and you wag your hooves and you tut tut and condescend when ponies just don’t get you! You haven’t lifted a hoof to help this town, you didn’t break your back and sweat for it like I did, you didn’t watch ponies die for it like I did, you didn’t live my life before you got here, and you don’t get to act like you know what’s best when you haven’t seen a lick of these ponies when the going gets really tough!”
Rarity struggled to keep her composure. Bonny’s face twisted with anger and guilt and frustration, but her eyes were the worst. They stared at her with singular, maniacal intent, but didn’t quite focus enough to look directly at her.
Then it hit her like the cake Blueblood had tossed her in front of.
“Are you sure you want to be telling me all that, or somepony else?”
Bonny made a retching noise like she’d been punched in the gut. For a moment her eyes went truly wild, spinning in their sockets before settling back on Rarity, and then she laughed, loud and bitter.
“Oh, I see. You’re hoping that little zinger will win you friendship points? Think you can just call ‘checkmate’ and you win? ‘Oh, Bonny, just go deal with your estranged parents, it’ll turn out fine!’ Just like your kind. You have arguments like you have mud fights: even if you win you’re still filthy by the end. How dare you. How dare you! Asking about my past and then trying to turn it against me. I’m wise to you, Rarity. My parents did the same thing!”
“Then you have been making this about the wrong issue all along!” Rarity snapped back. Bonny started to pace, smirking to herself and shaking her head as Rarity pressed her attack.
“It has never really been about Appleloosa at all, has it? It has never been anything but your desire to be free. You have been manipulating them ever since you came here, purely as some measure of revenge against your family?”
Bonny scoffed. “Manipulating? I’ve been trying to spare them what my parents put me through. You’re never going to keep this town safe. They find a way in. They always do. Only thing you can do is cut your losses and move on before they ruin it all.”
“And make a child grow up without his parents,” Rarity said.
Bonny threw the jug against the wall. It left a dent where it shattered, scattering ceramic and cider all over the floor. Rarity was unmoved.
“Are you itchin’ t’ get me in a foul mood, Rarity?” Bonny said, hissing the words. “‘Cause you keep talkin’ like that, I can’t be held responsible for what comes next.”
They stood there awhile, locked in stalemate. Bonny pawed the floor, just looking for an excuse to keep going, but Rarity gave her nothing but a stony silence. She wouldn’t be cowed here.
She reverts to her Appleloosan accent when she is pushed hard enough, as though it is more comfortable, Rarity thought. She’s run away from home in more ways than one.
A loud bang made them jump. Outside the wind had suddenly picked up strength. Anything not tied down was swept up and tossed about, into the walls of the house. Animals clucked and cawed and squealed as they took shelter in their respective coops and houses.
“Wha—?” Bonny gasped as she ran to the window. “It shouldn’t’ve… not so quickly…” She whirled about and snarled at Rarity. “You distracted me!”
“Excuse me,” Rarity huffed, “but getting trapped in a house with you in a storm, desperate as I am for reconciliation, is not an experience I would plan for. Though that does bring up strange memories of the last time something like this happened…”
“You hush up!” Bonny dashed to the windows and closed the shutters, bolting them tight. “Didn’t I say so from the start? Nothin’ but trouble. rotten high-falootin’ no-good…”
A thought popped into Rarity’s head. “Is Rusty here? Does he know where to take shelter?”
Bonny’s left eyelid twitched. “That kid ain’t stupid,” she said, but she ran to the back porch anyway and kicked the screen door open. A trail of little hoofprints, deep and messy like somepony had messily stomped through, ran directly into the orchards behind the house. Already the sun was darkening as tendrils of sand squirmed across the sky; Rusty was nowhere to be seen.
“That dang foal!” Bonny shouted into the growing wind. “He had to know that storm was comin’! I shoulda figured. He has this thing where he runs off into the orchard when he’s upset. Prob’ly where he is now.”
“I’ll help you look for him,” Rarity said at once.
“No.” Bonny put a hoof against her shoulder and shoved her back towards town. “You get back to Appleloosa an’ help ‘em lock the place down. They’ll need it.” She looked up into the sky, squinting against the blizzarding dust. “It’s just so fast. I’ve never seen it like this.”
She ran back inside and came back out with a pair of goggles and hoofkerchiefs, which she slipped over hers and Rarity’s faces. Rarity knew the brusqueness of Bonny’s hooves as the goggle straps slid around her ears meant it was an instinctive precaution more than actual concern, but she appreciated it anyway, even if her kerchief was an ugly shade of green.
“Do we have time?” Rarity asked, alarmed to see the storm wall bearing down on them much closer than the last time she looked, and now all she had to do was blink and now it loomed over them like a cliff falling over.
“Never have time when it comes to Mother Nature; she’s an ornery mistress,” Bonny grumbled as she finished knotting her kerchief around her neck and slid it over her muzzle.
Rarity could barely hear her over the wind, which had gone from a roar to a shriek in seconds. She leaned closer. “What did you say?”
Bonny clutched her hat with a death grip. “I said—!”
But it was too late for more talk as the full fury of the storm broke on the town. A huge blanket of stinging sand and dark shadows draped over the world, and filled her ears with a horrible, cacophonous noise that went on and on like a never-ending freight train. Bonny gritted her teeth and gave Rarity another shove, shouted at her to get moving. Rarity turned and ran while she could still see the outline of the town’s buildings and the ponies scattered among them, all dark scurrying shapes. Her skin stung as dust pelted her through her fur coat, her goggles rang with the constant pitter-patter of sand on the visor, and her hoofkerchief flapped pitifully against her face. She thought the wind might yank her mane right off her head. She understood what Braeburn had said now, about the tornado and the hugeness and the wilderness, and understood that she had never been ready for this. It had always been too big for her.
I now deeply regret even coming outside today, she thought as the silhouette of Appleloosa vanished into the haze, and the wind spun her around until main street looked like any other patch of dirt. But on the bright side, nopony can see the disaster this is making of my mane.
She lit her horn as bright as she could and fired a flare that burst high above her head, hoping to provide a beacon for whomever else might be lost. The storm swallowed it in moments.
The wind buffeted her from all sides, kicking up walls of dust that fell on her like bricks. It overwhelmed her dirt-repelling enchantments, and the meager shield she summoned wavered as her mind raced with horrible possibilities. What if she ran outside of town and fell in a ditch? What if she stumbled and broke her leg in a pothole she didn’t see? What if she was knocked out somehow, and the wind stripped the very flesh from her bones?
Such macabre thoughts didn’t suit a lady like herself, but that didn’t make them any less possible. Rarity closed her eyes and bowed her head, trying to concentrate on keeping her shield going as long as she could. The storm was terribly powerful. Surely it would blow through in a matter of minutes?
A matter of minutes later, Rarity started to panic. Her trudging turned to trotting, which turned to galloping.
This is it, she thought to herself. I’m going to die out here. Because of sand. Mere yards away from Braeburn I expect, that’s how these things usually go…
Crack!
“Goodness, what—?!”
The ground gave out beneath her hooves. She fell with a shriek that cut off after she hit solid ground just a few feet later, and sat up with a groan, rubbing her sore behind.
“Ugh, what now?”
“Ha! We save whiny pony and she still whines!” Ruff barked in her ear, sending her into fits of squealing and flailing until she hit the side of the tunnel wall, huddling against it.
“Wha—Ruff? What are you doing here?”
The Dust Dog shrugged. “Ponies caught outside by Dust Devil. Me and my Dogs travel beneath to save them, follow their hoofsteps. Lucky you are so heavy, whiny pony, or we not find you for long time!”
“How fortuitous you find my flank so fulsome,” Rarity deadpanned. “Was I the last one?”
“Other ponies gather inside, think we have all of them,” Ruff answered. “The one called Braeburn asks about you nonstop. Very tiresome.”
Rarity took a moment to preen and hide the blush on her cheeks. “Yes, well, some ponies clearly have their priorities in order. Where have they gathered?”
“Town Hall. Had to breach the floor; very messy,” Ruff said. “Come! I take you to them.”
“No!” Rarity startled herself with the force of her outburst. “I… I can’t just yet. Bona Fide and her brother are still out there somewhere; I can’t go back until I know they’ve gotten somewhere safe!”
“Mmm. That is angry pony who lives on the hill, yes? Not good place in a storm.”
“Which is why we can’t leave them out there. If we do they may be hurt, or worse. Ruff, can you dig your way to that side of town? And send your fellows to let the others know where we’re going?”
Ruff rolled up his sleeves and grinned, signaling two Dogs with him to return to town hall. “Old Dogs dug to Equestria from other side of earth! Angry pony hill no problem. Stay close behind, Rarity, and very quiet. Ruff must listen for pony hooves, and the Dust Devil listens for us too.”
“You mean the storm?” Rarity asked as she straightened her goggles.
Ruff growled as he prepared to attack the earth again.
“I do not, pony.”
———
In a matter of minutes they saw roots poking through the surface of Ruff’s tunnel, large and healthy, growing in such thick abundance that Ruff had to take a detour downwards to avoid the worst of it.
I should have figured she’d make sure the best trees grew on her land, Rarity thought to herself. I need to tell her how much success can take from you as much as give… it certainly won’t give her a place back in her family.
Ruff pointed upwards and started to dig, signaling the place he thought Bonny and her brother were sheltering.
Or perhaps she wants her success to take her as far from her old home as possible.
They breached the surface and were immediately assaulted by gale-force winds and stinging sand. Rarity squinted even behind her goggles, shying away from the fury of the storm.
“Does it really get this bad?!” she shouted.
“Worse! Dust Devil is close!” Ruff barked back. “Hurry! We must find ponies and go below! They are this way.”
He used his bulk to shield Rarity as they wandered a shadowed maze of tree trunks and wildly swinging branches. Leaves and apples were torn from their limbs, and even the thickest trunks teetered and groaned. The wind seemed to consume all other sound, but as they came upon a tool shed not far from the tunnel, Rarity picked up the tell-tale sound of a foal in distress. She’d picked up an ear for it through all of Sweetie Belle’s tantrums—oh, Sweetie Belle, right now I even miss being woken up by your shrieking of another ruined breakfast!—and she knew only a young pony in the peak of anger could caterwaul like that.
“I don’t care if you think it’s good for me! I ain’t goin!’” Rusty Hinges’ voice bellowed through the door and the storm.
“I oughta tan your hide for this!” Bona Fide shot back. “I’ve done good by you, Rusty! I’ve done more for you than Mom an’ Dad ever could! I even helped you pick out a real name!”
“I never should’ve gone with you! I never should’ve let ‘em send me away! I hate all this movin’ an’ hidin’ an’ I hate the heat an’ the dust in my mane! I hate you, Bona Fide! I hate you!”
“Stop talkin’ your fool nonsense an’ get this blanket over you. That door may not hold long!”
“An accent even in private,” Rarity murmured to herself, but Ruff was already pounding on the door and shouting for them to get out as soon as possible. The shouting from inside stopped, but Rarity put a paw on Ruff’s arm and lowered it gently. She grasped the handle with her magic and pulled it open just a crack, intending to speak through it, but the wind took the door and slammed it open for her.
Rarity was bustled inside by Ruff, who used his powerful arms to grab the door, yank it shut again, and lock it with the latch, all over Bonny’s loud protestations.
“What in Tartarus is that thing doin’ here?!” she barked. “Rarity? I told you to go back to town!”
“Don’t let her leave, miss Rarity!” Rusty shouted, poking his head out from behind Bonny’s hind legs, a blanket draped over his head. “If you go she’ll run off behind your back! S’what she’s good at!”
“I told you to hush up, boy,” Bonny growled.
“Bonny,” Rarity said quietly and firmly behind her kerchief. “Stop this arguing. Ruff is here to get us all to safety. He dug a tunnel all the way up from town. Traveling underground is the only way to escape.”
They all eyed the shed ceiling as it creaked and groaned. Outside something big snapped and fell.
“Goodness,” Rarity whispered, and turned back to Bonny. “It’s not safe here. We have to go now.”
“Aw, sure, an’ then you’re the big hero. Just like usual,” Bonny hissed, staring at the ground.
“What…?” Rarity gasped. “Bonny, our lives are in danger! Rusty’s life is in danger! Can’t we have this argument some other time?”
“No! No we can’t!” Bonny shouted, her eyes wild behind her goggles. “Not this time! You’re not gonna cart me off like no damsel in distress! This is my home! My house! My family! It don’t need savin’ by the likes of you!”
The wind howled outside, and deep down in Rarity, something yearned to answer it, but she did her best to push it down.
“Bonny,” she said levelly, “I am not in the mood for this, and we do not have the time. We will discuss this later.”
“What are you, my mom?” Bonny sneered. Rarity’s imagination twisted her scowl into something horrible and malignant. “I’ll talk about what I want, when I want, with who I want!”
“Stop yellin’ at miss Rarity!” Rusty yelled.
“Shut up, Rusty!” Bonny answered.
“Don’t tell him to shut up!” Rarity snapped, clacking her teeth with the force of her shout. The shed shivered, and Rarity barely noticed Ruff backing into a corner, but she didn’t care. The coiled presence deep inside was threatening to unwind, and Celestia as her witness she was willing to let it all out. “Don’t you ever tell him that, you ungrateful, snobbish ruffian!”
“Stop tellin’ me what to do!” Bonny shrieked, clutching her head with her hooves. “My whole damn life’s been one big instruction book an’ I’m sick of it. I’m sick, you hear me?! Sick!”
“The one time you need to listen and you choose not to,” Rarity pressed on, the coiled thing in her chest unraveling, spilling out like a rope tossed over a cliff. “I’ve half a mind to leave you out in this storm. Or maybe I should, maybe that will finally blow some sense into your head!”
“Rarity,” Ruff said, slapping a heavy paw down on her shoulder. “The Devil is close.”
“And you!” Rarity rounded on Ruff. “Stop with your nonsense, your foul smell, and your idiotic manner of speech, you giant baboon!”
“Not nonsense,” Ruff answered calmly, his eyes shrouded with stony resolution. “Have seen before. When ponies drove us deep into the desert, and my people screamed in rage, the Dust Devil screamed back. Took many days to drive it away, much digging, much silence. Thought it gone, but it is here again. It is the storm, and the wind, and it buffets you. It feeds on this anger. If you do not stop then you will bring it down on us.”
He pointed a long claw at Bonny, who muttered to herself and scraped the ground with her hooves. Behind her Rusty paced like a caged animal.
“Storm is strong because anger is strong. Our people and yours were close to peace… it does not want to starve, and will blow as hard as it can until all walls fall. Must be desperate to strike now.”
Rarity swayed on her hooves, in unison with the blustering wind. It shrieked at her, demanding her attention, to open herself and let it blow through her.
“This storm is alive?” she asked, rubbing her temples. A vicious headache erupted when she tried to center herself, to find a calm space where the howling didn’t reach.
“Its rage is yours,” Ruff answered. “The Dust Devil will not stop until it consumes all, or until it is spent.”
The entire shed swayed on its foundations, bending with the wind. Ruff yipped and plunged his paws into the ground, throwing up clods of dirt.
“Hurry!” he barked. “No more time! Ruff will carry ponies who argue!”
The bang of splintering wood filled Rarity’s ears as the shed walls collapsed under something big and heavy, and then a hail of splinters struck the side of her face and something heavy struck her side. She was bowled over with barely an ‘oof’, too surprised to even make a sound. She curled up into a ball as the storm bore down on her, groaning as the icy fire of shock gave way to a sharp throb of agony. Bonny was shouting, or maybe that was just the wind, or maybe that was Rusty, and her heart went out to him.
She realized Ruff was right about the storm not going away. Its noise overtook the world. It was like a great roaring mouth had closed around her, and she was stuck inside listening to the echoes. Even if Ruff pulled her underground, the Dust Devil, if that was what it was, would only seek them out again, or leave the town in shambles in its search for sustenance. All her work would be for naught. All her friendships would be stripped away by sand and wind. The fragile truce would break down when the orchards were wrecked and the buildings uprooted.
I hate it, she thought angrily, knowing it was reckless to let her emotions go and not caring in the least. I hate it all. I hate this ridiculous desert. I hate Braeburn being coy. I hate this stupid storm that wants to rip everything I’ve worked for out of my hooves right when it’s close to completion. I hate the way Bonny put on airs until it was too late to change. I hate it, I hate it all, I hate everything, why not just-
Her mind froze when she felt something in the wind turn, like a vast head swiveled towards her. Something deep in the sandstorm growled, hungry and primordial.
Rarity dared to open her eyes.
She saw Bonny huddled nearby with her hooves over her head and her face buried in the ground. She looked like a foal pretending the world didn’t exist just because she ignored it. Rarity put out a hoof, pushing it along the ground so the wind wouldn’t catch it, and then the other, and pulled herself forward. This was the mare who had caused so much trouble, who set half the town against her, who used jealousy and deceit where Rarity wanted only peace and unity. She was the villain and Rarity was the hero, she deserved nothing and Rarity deserved everything, and she hated her. Images flashed in her mind of falling on Bonny and finally cutting loose, screeching about how she’d nearly brought about the downfall of a whole town, how the heart of Appleloosa was Rarity’s now, how Braeburn was hers now.
But her hooves scraped Bonny’s side and felt a terrified flinch, and the rage sputtered. Hold on, her mind told her, wouldn’t it be ridiculous to scream at her in the middle of a sandstorm? Wouldn’t that just be the silliest thing to try and outshout a hurricane?
The billowing dust above clumped together into what might have been a face, or something eerily close, and then flew apart again as the Dust Devil let loose another roar, but Rarity didn’t answer.
She kept her eyes on Bonny. How small the other mare looked now, and Rarity realized, how young. Too young to be consumed by all this. Too young to let anger and anxiety draw lines on her face, to let that nice mane get tattered and worn with neglect.
She put her hooves around Bonny instead of on her as she brought her muzzle close down to Bonny’s ear.
“I don’t hate you,” she said, either a shout or a whisper, but she heard herself either way.
Bonny started. One of her hooves, painfully slow, twisted over, and with fear and trembling, took the tip of Rarity’s hoof.
Rarity felt a warmth she hadn’t since… well, earlier in the day when she woke up cuddling with Braeburn. But frequency never dampened the excitement of friendship. That warmth grew like a smoldering fire until it became a glow in her chest. That glow spread down to her hooves and to the tip of her horn. Its light very faintly touched on Bonny’s fur, and she raised her head just slightly to see. Angry tears streaked her cheeks, but her expression showed only confusion.
Above them, the storm drew back.
“I want to be your friend,” Rarity said. “I want to be everyone’s friend - it’s a fault of mine sometimes. But I want the best for you. The best! And yes, I’ve made mistakes. I’ve been arrogant and presumptuous and I’ve given myself this tragic heroine complex and I ignored you and what you meant to this town. But I swear, it was never out of malice. Good intentions don’t excuse me, but I hope it shows you… shows you what we could be if we just stopped all this.”
One of Bonny’s eyes slid open just a crack. Rarity gently rubbed Bonny’s hoof as the Dust Devil hovered, seemingly confused.
“What we’re doing can’t be solved with anger, Bonny,” she said, raising her voice only to be heard over the wind. “We’ve been feeding this thing, this storm, all along, and it’s fed us too. You all came out here to tame this place, to make it safe and quiet, right? We’ll only ever do that if we quiet our hearts first. Please. Stand with me now.”
Rarity slowly stood up, limbs shook as they struggled against the wind trying to push her down, and the terror that threatened to freeze her in place. She kept her hoof firmly attached to Bonny’s, tugged on it.
“For Rusty. And for yourself. Show them all you can be better.”
Bonny resisted at first, but then the Dust Devil roared again, and her expression wrenched away from fear and settled on placid, focused calm. The grip on Rarity’s hoof tightened, and then Bonny stood up. The two mares stared at each other, manes whipping and eyes narrowed. Though Rarity prided herself on her ability to read other ponies, this time she found Bonny’s expression inscrutable. But she didn’t turn on Rarity. Instead, she looked up at the ghastly, formless creature above them, and gave it a snort.
Rarity felt herself glow all the brighter. She felt her Element at work, tickling just beneath her horn, bubbling up at the back of her throat. And in that moment, she felt friendship take root.
The two of them stood side by side as the Dust Devil swirled in confusion.
“My heart,” Bonny said, “is my own. An’ I’m sick of lettin’ others dictate how I feel.”
The Dust Devil keened and wailed, even as the wind quieted down. The never-ending haze around them lifted, and Rarity saw Ruff and Rusty poke their heads out of a hole in the ground nearby, watching them.
“This is my life,” Bonny said. “An’ that means no more running. No more bein’ afraid. No more nothin’ but doin’ what I said I was gonna do. Helping Appleloosa. Helping the ponies here. Hurtin’ ponies who’ve been trying to tell me what I won’t tell myself.” She looked over her shoulder at Rusty. “I ain’t been the best kinda family. Or the best pony in general. But that’s comin’ to an end. No more foolin’ with what I can’t change.” She took a deep breath and looked to Rarity, who smiled.
“But I can change me,” Bonny whispered. “An’ I guess that’ll start today.”
The Dust Devil swirled and cowered, hiding high in the air from them. It wrapped a cloak of sand around it, trying to hide from the glow that emanated from both ponies. The light expanded, grew, overtook the Dust Devil, even as it roared back, tried to blow it all away with sheer rage. It blustered and puffed itself to massive size, and even though Rarity saw nothing resembling a body or a face, she felt the frustrated rage in the storm’s flailing wind. But they stood firm, even as the storm grew and loomed over them.
She saw shapes advancing through the storm wall as it thinned out, brought them into focus. At their head walked Braeburn and Little Strongheart, faces set with determination, then Cold Cock and Apple Tart and behind them a whole mob of ponies, at least half the town of Appleloosa. They walked with purpose, staring up at the storm that shrank back from their advance.
They formed up around the two mares, serene and unflappable while they basked in the glow of friendship, and their closeness only added to it until the storm could not hold it back any longer. The Dust Devil quailed and withdrew further up into the sky, where the sun finally breached its mighty storm wall, shining down on all of them. Out of the corner of her eye, Rarity spotted Ruff hop out of his hole, and Rusty clambered out of his arms to stand next to Bonny, who gave him a little brush of her tail.
Rarity couldn’t resist looking to Braeburn, who caught her gaze and held it, and Rarity’s heart swelled. For the first time in months, these ponies truly stood together, and she was right in the heart of it. She didn’t question how they had all come up here or why; all that mattered was that they were together, as friends should be. And that Braeburn stood here, too. Especially him.
He reached out and took her other hoof, and together they dared to peer upwards, directly into the eye of the storm, and rejected it. To the anger in their hearts, they said “Be gone.” To the divisions of the past, they said “Be gone.” To the stubborn rage at a past they couldn’t fix, they said “Be gone.”
Then Rarity bowed her head and closed her eyes, and her cutie mark burst with light. All around and through her surged a beautiful rainbow, crystalline and soft as a sheet of air, expanding out in all directions. Rarity heard one last blast of wind, one last dying ebb of anger, and then a new breeze poured in and silenced it all. Friendship flowed into the cracks anger left behind, and in the serenity that followed, Rarity remembered an endless night and a dark alicorn overcome with friendship, and she knew that this light was just as pure and righteous as that one.
When she opened her eyes, everything was quiet and calm, from the blue sky above down to the soft pitter-patter of her heart. There was no sign the maelstrom had ever even existed, save the thin coat of dust that colored everyone a pale orange. Everyone either stared up into the sky, or looked around in placid confusion - they didn’t really know what just happened, but they were all right with it.
Bonny held Rusty close and avoided everyone’s gaze, staring straight ahead with a thoughtful expression. She looked terribly small, but she seemed more humble than sad to Rarity.
“I ain’t never said anything like that in my entire life,” she whispered. “Not once. Always been angrier than a bobcat on a snare string, but now it… I don’t… s’like it’s gone, almost. I mean, not really. It’s still there. I just… can’t think of why it was so important before.”
“I think we all feel a little lighter on our hooves,” said Sheriff Silverstar, carefully patting down his hat. “That was definitely an experience.”
“What brought ponies?” Ruff wondered aloud.
“We saw a light through the storm, clear on down to town hall,” Strongheart said quietly. “At first we thought someone might need help. But then one volunteer turned to three, and ten, and it just all got brighter, and…” She trailed off, amazed by something she couldn’t put into words.
Apple Tart continued for her, in a voice both quiet and reverent. “An’... then somethin’ drew us up here. A feeling, but, it had a voice. We all heard it at the same time. Somethin’ nice an’ wholesome. We felt needed. So up we came.”
Braeburn tugged her hoof again, looking utterly silly with a coating of dust all over him, save a circle of gold fur framing his lovely eyes where he’d worn his goggles. A small, honest smile tugged at his lips as he dragged his hat off his head, letting his dusty locks spill out from underneath.
“Well,” he said with a tired sigh, “I know why I’m here.”
Rarity lowered her kerchief and carefully lifted her goggles, knowing she looked ridiculous, with a circle of clean fur on her face and the rest coated in sand and her mane in wild tatters. She didn’t know why she did what she did next at the time, but she knew why she didn’t do many other things. She didn’t throw up her hooves and cheer, like some ponies did. She didn’t sink to her flanks and fire off a one-liner worthy of the worst Con Mane novel. She didn’t hurry around and make sure they had a plan, either.
She didn’t do any of these things because right then she simply grabbed Braeburn by the lapels of his vest, pulled him close, and kissed him. The taste of dirt and sweat and grit came with it, and the force of it was enough to nearly bruise them both, but then she tasted his lips, and they were so sweet and soft and melded with her own with such eager willingness she really couldn’t have cared about anything else at all. Braeburn didn’t seem to either as he wrapped his hooves around her and held tight, sealing the quiet promise made between them.
For those precious few moments, they agreed to forget everything in the world except each other.