Off To The Races!

Laughter danced through the bright blue sky, the musical sound of fillies enjoying the new spring air. A light breeze was singing through the trees, and it swept through my mane. The gust made my bangs blow up, and for a moment I saw speedy Sugar galloping towards the makeshift finish line at the end of our ‘track’. Flare was fast too, running after Sugar in a desperate attempt to pass her. I wasn’t really a racer, myself, so I was currently seated at the start of the track watching them. Sugar’s yellow mane was bobbing up and down as she bounded over the stick that served as our finish line. She was happy as could be of her victory, showing that with a toothy grin. Flare was huffing out air when she finished; I watched her plop down with her bottom lip set into an adorably sweet pout.

As I made my way over to my friends I smiled thinking of how different they were from each other. Flare Shot was so bright in her red coat, and her hair was even redder (if that's even possible). A streak of pink ran through it, but she thought it was too girly and hid it in the tufts of the rest of her mane.

Sugar Cane was a mellow shade of vanilla in comparison. Her mane looked almost like butterscotch, flowing down in a creamy waterfall over her shoulder. Her eyes were a beautiful green, and they sparkled when she smiled (which she was always doing).

As if the colors weren’t a big enough contrast, Flare looked to be almost half the size of Sugar. That little filly was always hanging off of Sugar’s hoof, and because Sugar was my only close friend I ended up befriending Flare too. That child was born to race, lean and fast like a bullet. Just not quite as fast as our Sugar.

“Can you believe how fast shes getting?!” Sugar skipped over the last few feet between us, teeth gleaming in a broad smile.

“That was so fast! I’m telling you, a little more practice and we’re going to be cheering her on at the Ponylympics!”

I would smile my little smile and nod softly. There wasn’t really any other way to take Sugar’s bursting enthusiasm. Of course, I’d been the recipient of that enthusiastic smile for six years and as beautiful as her crystal blue eyes were, I didn’t need to see them quite this close.

“You were both really fast,” My reply was soft spoken and pretty weak, but she seemed happy with it. Her hooves carried her over to Flare even as she spoke, even as that grin somehow got even brighter.

“You’re the fastest little filly around. There’s no way anypony at school can beat you in the one hundred yard dash.”

“The hundred yard dash is the one everypony wants to do. I have to beat...like...my whole class. Somepony’s going to be better than me, I just know it.”

“No way. No one else is as fast as you.” Sugar set her face into a serious expression.

“Nopony.”
Flare giggled a little and stood up. The serious look really didn’t suit Sugar at all.

“Oh, stop. Lets get back to practicing.”

Sugar very dramatically wiped the wrinkles from her brow and tossed them away before going towards the starting line, but Flare put up a hoof and shook her head.

“Wait, Sugar,” She directed a grin at me and I knew she was up to no good.
“I’ll race Ashy.”

They were both looking at me now, and I froze. Oh goodness no, I couldn’t race. I just wasn’t a speedy sort of pony. I was better suited to watching the races than being in them.

“That sounds like fun!” Sugar exclaimed, rushing over and dragging me to the track. A whine passed my lips and I tried to pull back, but the next thing I knew I was standing there at the start of our race track beside Flare.

“Sugar...why me?”

“Because, Ashy, you haven’t raced her yet.”

“But--”

“No buts,” Flare interjected. “I can’t beat Sugar, but you’re slower.”

Well, she was right. It wasn’t that she was insulting me. I was a calmer pony who would rather lay out in a sunny field and paint flowers than race or fool around. It didn’t look like I was getting out of this one, though.

Thats where I am now, the clear sky laying sunlight across my back. As I get into position to run, I see a little grasshopper bounce off into the taller grass somewhere.

“Racers, get ready…” Sugar says in a very professional, announcer-like voice.

“Get Set…”

I quickly shake my head so that my bangs aren’t blocking half of my vision like they usually do.

“Go!”

Whoosh! Flare is like a missile, shooting out over the track as fast as her hooves can take her. I have a late start already, and Sugar is yelling behind me.
“Go Ashy, run!”

So I do. I dash, running, clumsily as I may be. I’m kicking up all kinds of sorts of dust and my mane is flying wildly in the wind. It actually feels pretty good, truth be told. Flare’s behind is getting closer and closer until I think I just might pass her. Then I do! I did it! Slow Ashy Petals is going to win a race! I’m...I’m...oh dear.
Somewhere along the way my silly feet got fumbled and now I’m stumbling awkwardly towards the finish. A misplaced hoof, some failed attempts at righting myself, and splat. Face-first I go into the dust, my muzzle almost touching our finish line.

“Woo-hoo!”

Flare almost steps on me going over the stick, but veers at the last second. Thank goodness for that, at least.
“I won, I won! I knew I could beat Ash!”

Sugar gallops over to us and even though I don’t look up from the grasshopper that has found its way back to our dirt track before my muzzle, I know she’s giving Flare a stern look.
“Its okay, Sugar. She did win.”

I pull myself up. Its weird seeing Sugar serious and honestly, weird to see her at all without my mane partially blocking my view. I shake my head until it falls back into place over my right eye and smile a little.
“Ashy…”
“Its okay, really. I’m just clumsy, so don’t blame her.”
“But Ash, I’m really sorry. I should have let you win. You were going to win.”

I just smile a little more and shake my head.
“No, no. You won fair and square. If you just let me win, it wouldn’t be a race, now would it? Don’t be sorry, I’m just a clumsy pony.”

~ ~ ~ ~

I startle awake, my eyes snapping open to a deep blue. My chest is heaving with the shock of seeing Sugar. I close my eyes again and try to slow my breathing. Its a slow process, but i’ll be fine in a few minutes. Close my eyes...deep breaths...open my eyes….look at the solid things around me. The solid things take me away from the scary things in my head and put me back into reality. This is the routine I go through whenever i have a nightmare.

I wonder why I did have one. I mean, I haven’t had any bedtime terrors for a long time. Even when I did have them, they weren’t frequent and generally didn’t involve Sugar Cane.
My nostrils still flare with every breath, but I’m calm in my oasis. I know I’m okay here, in this safe little haven of mine. My black hooves aren’t dusty from galloping across the track, Flare isn’t here, and Sugar isn’t even in the city. I’m still nestled in the soft spring grass by my stream.

A soft breeze waves the ungrazed grasses and they tickle my gray dappled torso. My stream plays a quiet gurgling melody, washing away the memories that my dream had brought back to life. One last deep breath, and everything is peaceful again.
I stand up, taller than I used to be. Its funny how everything changes, even the body. Though...some things haven’t changed, I think as I glance back at my blank flank. Still nothing. But maybe that is what my cutie mark is: just nothing. I don’t really have any special skills unless you count tripping over your own hooves or making an impossible mess when you eat.

I drag myself away from the beat down grass where I’d been laying and out of the shade my low-hanging weeping willow lent me. It’s early afternoon now and Rainbow Dash has given us a cloudless spring sky. The birds seemed to enjoy that, twittering sweetly from a nest in the old willow tree.

I push through the soft undergrowth of the forest, a few rough leaves scraping over my legs. It’s a few minutes walk to the main dirt road that winds through our town, but I don’t mind. I like the distance because its quieter in my spot. It is a little inconvenient when I’m in a hurry, though.
“Isn’t that Ashy? And what’s with her mane?”

My ten minute walk must be over.
“I dunno. She’s the one from all that drama last year, right?”
“Shhh, she’s looking this way; I think she can hear us.”
“Whatever. C’mon, the race is about to start.

I flick my tail and watch the two unicorns walk east. That's where the track was set up, and where I was headed, too.
“Ashy?”

I look up to see a dark green earth pony with a silvery mane flowing over her shoulders.
“Cherry!”

My heart warms in fondness and she prances over to me in delight.
“I should have known it was you, covered in leaves like that.”
“Leaves?”

I look over myself, but I don’t see what leaves she’s talking about.
“Here, silly.”

She brushed her right hoof over my mane and a few fallen leaves danced down to land around my feet. I guess thats what the unicorn meant by my mane being weird. Its kind of embarrassing that they saw me that way. Looking up at my best friend i was about to say so out loud, but I shake my head and chuckle at her.
“You really should wear your glasses, Cherry.”
“Oh, not you too. I get enough of that from dad.”
“Sorry, but you can’t hardly see without them.”

She just rolls her big gray eyes and tosses her mane.
“Are you going to lecture me, or are we going to watch Flare win another race?”

I can feel the heat creep into my cheeks, and Cherry grins over at me. Oh, curse my blush. I wish I could tell a lie or, at the very least, keep a straight face
“You’re so very obvious, you know.”
Yeah. I know. I shuffle past her, making sure to shake my bangs into their place.
“She’s my friend.” I defend weakly.
“She was your friend. When did you even talk last?”

I don’t respond. She knows she’s right just as well as I do, so there isn't any reason to argue that point.
“I know you want to support her, but you can’t keep that promise forever.”

Again, I don’t say anything. Why can’t I keep my promise? I never break a promise, no matter what. Cherry knows me well enough to know that, at least. She just doesn't understand my relationship with Flare. She doesn't know everything; she doesn't ask. I think its just her fear that I won’t tell her that keeps her curiosity quiet.

The race track is in view now, and a few ponies are walking alongside it making sure its clear of debris. Its in a typical oval shape. Just a dirt track;nothing especially fancy. The trees weren't very dense here and only one or two birds were twittering about their branches.

Cherry and I join a bustling crowd of ponies on the closest side of the track. A few racers trot proudly up to the white chalk line ground into the dirt of the track. The first one up there is Flare. She’d gotten bigger, her mane cut in a roughly spiked style and her coat redder than ever. Her mane is almost all pink now, and it looks like she doesn’t mind so much anymore.

Beside her is a periwinkle purple filly with a mane that looks like candy cane stripes, then to her left a black colt with a with a white, short-cut mane. The colt that I recognized to be Midnight (he works at the local grocery his dad owns sometimes) was sizing up the competition, scraping the ground with one hoof as he looked away from Flare and back to the track.

My gut tightens as it always does when I watch the races. This time though, it feels a little different. A little more….ominous? Its probably just my overactive imagination. Flare seems confident, but that isn’t helping to ease my worries this time.
“Hey Ashy,” Cherry whispers, nudging my shoulder. “That colt has his eye on Flare.”

I nod, biting my lip.

The announcer, a bright pink pony waving down at us from an air balloon, floats into sight. Her cotton candy pink, fluff of a mane is bouncing as she jumps around excitedly in the air balloon.
“Ladies and gentle colts,” Her high voice booms out over the crowds. “Are you ready for the bestest, most spectacular, wonderful, Little Pony Triathlon yet!?!?”

I flatten my ears against her loud, ecstatic voice. It is no doubt that mare loves her job, and all of the ponies down here. The crowds seem to love her right back with their resounding cheers.
“Racers, are you ready to pace? Race? Gallop?” Pinkie tilts her head, muttering to herself.

Cherry rolls her eyes at my right, whispering over the low rumble of the crowds.
“Last time she delayed the race with her antics.”

I nod, having been there when it happened. That was last month, when Pinkie got carried away with her trumpet. Why she had one up there in the first place, I don’t know. Its really no use applying logic to that pony.
“Oh well,” Pinkie says into her mic.“Racers, get ready to go!”

My eyes shift back to Flare. She’s getting into her familiar racing position, head low to the ground and body tensed. I think I catch Midnight smirking at her before he goes into position, but it must be my imagination again.
“Alright!” Pinkie yells, hardly containing her enthusiasm as she bounds to the edge of the hot air balloon.
“Get ready…”
“Get set…”
“Go!”

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