Flu Through the Night
Itchy. Itchy. Itchy!
I squirmed beneath my covers, sweating profusely as sleep evaded me. My wings had been pitching a fit all day, and they weren’t getting any better. I’d been nibbling on them nonstop when Mom and Dad weren’t watching, desperately trying to sink my fangs into a foe that would not die.
“Achoo!” I gave a squeaky sneeze, and a little bit of snot found its way to my foreleg. My sheets were already soaked with sweat, so I wiped it onto the blanket, and resolved to do a bit of laundry tomorrow.
There was no denying it. My cold had been promoted. It wasn’t strep throat… not again. It wasn’t the stupidly named pink eye, which pales in comparison to the true manifestation of pink evil. No, this was much worse.
Itchy wings…. Itchy wings…. My eyes slowly widened, pupils constricting as a realization dusked on me. As my fur stood on end, a single, terrible shiver passed through me.
It couldn’t be that. It just couldn’t. Uncle Courage wasn’t even sick when we saw him on Ewigenacht....
I shivered again, irritating my wings and making them itch even worse than before. Turning to carefully rake my fangs through them, I nibbled as delicately as I could, and my right wing sang in relief as my teeth targeted the dastardly fiends.
I risked fluttering the wing a little, just to see if the villains would come back. No sudden urge to scratch came, so I turned my attention to my left side.
As my teeth passed over the skin, the itching got worse this time. I nibbled and nibbled and nibbled some more, but nothing I did would give me the sweet relief my right wing had gotten.
Tired. Frustrated. I ruffled my wings without thinking, and my right wing took that as a sign to act up again. I grunted—desperately attacking this one itch that was ten times worse than all the others—and in doing so my fangs pierced the membrane of my wing.
A burning sensation shot through the appendage, and I curled into a ball, whimpering as the itch flared into something so much worse. The swelling was instant and painful. The pop of pus and skin followed right behind.
“Scree-eee!”
There was a pair of thwumps from down the hall, and a muffled shout came through the walls, carrying certain words I wasn’t allowed to say.
“Night? Night?! What’s wrong?” A dark blur burst from my parents’ room as Dad bucked the door apart and flew into the corridor.
“Dad!” My sun-blasted wings burned again, and I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. My back arched in pain, but I refused to scream again. “Dad, I think I have the feather flu! Help!”
Dad was there in an instant, holding me in a tight bear hug. “Night, you need to stop panicking. It didn’t help last time, and it won’t help this time. Just try to keep still and power through the pain. The first part is always the worst.”
I whimpered as Dad wrapped his hooves around me, but his touch helped me remember everything he’d taught me last time. I had to move as little as possible. Any irritation could cause a chain—
“Achoo!”
Pain! Ow! Oh, the pain! There was more than one this time!
Stars swirled in my eyes, so I screwed them shut, and focused on Dad’s heartbeat. My wings were shaking, and I couldn’t stop them as the pain spread through them in a great wave of fire. Eventually, the burning passed to leave my wings raw and tingling. I could feel them swollen with all those stupid ugly bumps, and I shivered when both of them twitched one last time.
“I-is it over, dear?” When had Mom come in?
“I think so….” Dad slowly backed away, eyeing me up and down. “Sometimes a few like to pop in late for one last surprise. Night, can you extend your wings for your mother?”
I hesitantly did so, jumping a bit when I thought I felt another itch coming on. None came, though, so I carefully expanded my wings to full mast. A few blood-and-pus-covered feathers had already sprouted from the bumps that had burst, making me a miserable, misshapen lump of a rat with wings.
Mom crept forward, bringing her head close enough to scrutinize my wings in the dark. As she counted each unholy lump that had formed upon my wings, I prayed that she wouldn’t find any missing.
“I… think that’s one for every feather.” Mom hummed. “Although, a few seem a little… off….”
Dad snorted. “She was must have been scratching earlier, otherwise none of the pustules would have burst. We need to make sure she doesn’t irritate them any more.”
“No….” My eyes widened as he looked at me apologetically. I knew where this was going. “No! Not again! You promised I’d never need to wear the cone ever again! I don’t even have fleas this time!”
“Your mother promised that, Night,” Dad rumbled. “I knew we might still get some use out of it.”
“But— But— But—” I pouted. “Mom!”
“I’m with your father on this one, Night.” Mom smiled sadly, her ears splaying back. “He’s the expert here, and if he says it will help, then it’ll help. I’m sorry….”
Dad pulled me into another hug. “It’ll only be for a week at most, little star. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
Yeah, right…. I sniffled into his coat. Nothing could make up for the humiliation that was coming….
I sat on the couch and squirmed at the feel of the cone upon my neck. It was large and white and far too clunky. Whenever my wings itched, it thwarted my every attempt at relief. My fangs could simply not get around it, thus I sulked on the couch in silent, sleepy misery.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Dad’s voice made me jump a little.
“Can’t slee-ee-ee-yahp—” I gave a mighty yawn. “—with my wings like this.” Blinking blearily, I looked up at him. “Why didn’t you go back to bed with Mom?”
“I needed a shower after earlier.” Dad shrugged. “Your wings kind of left me covered in pus and blood.”
“Sorry….” I lowered my head back onto the couch and stared into the clouds that made it. “I probably got you sick, too, didn’t I?”
“None of this is your fault, Night. If anypony got us sick, it’s your uncle.” Dad growled. “And I am so going to kill him for this. No pony gets my filly sick.”
“Can I help?” I sniffled, scootching to the side a bit and curling up next to Dad as he took a seat beside me.
Dad gave a rumbling chuckle. “You can try, Night, but your uncle Courage is a tough old bast—” He coughed and looked towards his and Mom’s bedroom. “—cookie. He’s the only one in the family whose heartier than your uncle Star Keeper.”
“Is that ‘cause he covers himself in guano to keep moist?” I looked up, tilting my head to the side.
“He’s doing what now?” Dad perked an eyebrow.
“You know, a bast-turd!” I squeaked, smiling wide.
“A what?!” Dad roared with laughter, pulling me closer to noogy me. “Oh, I’m so going to make sure your uncle never hears the end of that, but no, Night, that’s not what that word means.”
“But Sweetie’s dictionary said— said—” I squealed as he tickled me, almost forgetting my lumpy misshapen wings until one of the bumps burst and let out a feather.
“Ow….” I whimpered; at the very least, it wasn’t as painful as before.
“Sorry!” He immediately stopped and frowned. Picking a few tissues from the box on the table next to him, he carefully dabbed the white and grey gunk away.
After everything was clean, he ruffled my mane and kissed me on the forehead before looking over his shoulder. “Seriously, though, that’s not a word you should be using at your age. You’ll get us both in trouble.”
“But you use it!” I pouted.
“Your Mom and I earned the right to by going through all our guard training.” Dad grinned. “Have you gone through all of your guard training?”
“That’s no fair!” I whined. “Scoots said she heard Rainbow Dash call Fluttershy’s brother that!”
“Pfft! Wonderbolts are still part of the military.” Dad waved his hoof dismissively.
“Well…” I hummed. “What if I told you Sweetie saw that Rarity called Blueblood one in her diary?”
“Err—” Dad bit his lip. “—she probably has permission from the princesses because she’s an Element of Harmony?”
“That still doesn’t explain—” Dad put a hoof over my mouth.
“Look.” He glanced over his shoulder once more. “Why don’t you write me a list of all the ponies you’ve heard saying naughty words without a license? Your mom and I will go have a talk with them.”
“Al— Al—” My face scrunched as my nose was filled with an overpowering tingle. “Achoo!”
Eww…. Not again…. Stupid feather flu was making me all boogery….
“Can I have a tissue first?” I resisted the urge to rub my leg into the couch.
“Like you even need to ask,” Dad chuckled, hoofing me the tissue box from the table beside the couch. “You want me to go grab some books to read to you like the last time you had feather flu? I remember a certain somepony being unable to sleep then, too.”
“Yes, please.” I thoroughly wiped my leg and blew out whatever boogers were left into a clump of tissues. “Although, you don’t have to read them this time. I’m a big filly now.”
Dad laughed. “You really are, my little star. You’re nothing like the filly that barely fit in my hooves when she was born.”
I yawned. “Yeahaaahah… You’ve shown me pictures. Can’t believe I didn’t even have fangs.”
“Aye.” Dad nodded. “I had to gut crickets and mush them up just to feed you the first few months.” He stood and the couch floomped back into shape. “Now, you just stay there and I’ll go get those books. Do you have any preferences?”
“Daring Do, please,” I murmured as he headed into the hall. I wasn’t sure he heard me, but the couch was too comfy to leave.
Still, I was so itchy…. All I wanted… was… some...
“Well, well…. Looks like you might not need the books. You feeling good enough to sleep now?”
I startled, flailing a little as Dad dumped some books on the coffee table with a thwump. I almost fell off the couch as the cone unbalanced me, but Dad caught and steadied me with one hoof.
“Was I asleep?” I blinked blearily.
“Looks like….” Dad sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. “I’m sorry. You were fidgeting just enough that I thought you were just resting your eyes.”
“It’s alright….” Rubbing at my eyes, I licked my lips. “I probably would have twitched awake in another minute or two.”
I picked up the book to stare at the words for several seconds. They refused to come into focus, and slid about the page with a will of their own. “Maybe you should read after all. I’m so tired the words just won’t…”
“Too tired to read, but too itchy to sleep…” Dad rumbled as he patted me on my withers. “That’s feather flu for you.”
I scootched over a bit and curled up against Dad’s side as he sat down again. As he picked up one of the books, he extended his wing over me, and I snuggled a little closer at the warmth. I closed my eyes to let his voice wash over me, hoping the itches might stop long enough that he’d lull me to sleep.
It took awhile, but eventually I slipped into a fitful rest—my dreams full of feathers and flying chickens.
A knocking on the door sent me tumbling to the floor with a flump. Dad was gone— I wasn’t sure where. It was so tempting to just crawl back onto the couch and pretend nopony was home.
“Night?” There was muffled panting from behind the door. “You there? Miss Cheerilee gave me your homework.”
Not the time, Scoots.
I pulled a section of the cloud floor over me as a blanket and flattened my ears, determined to get some more sleep. She’d take the hint eventually…. Probably.
“Night! Come on!” More knocking. “I know you’re in there! Your dad stopped by class to tell Miss Cheerilee you were sick! Get your lazy flank out of bed and answer the door!”
I wasn’t in bed, unfortunately…. I didn’t even have the couch anymore. All I had was the floor. Maybe that was a good thing, though. My homemade blanket crackled and tingled with some of the lightning we powered the house with, keeping me warm and toasty.
“Rrragh! Stupid door!” The lock rattled, and there was a clinking noise followed by the sound of metal snapping. “Hey! My pick!”
There was the thwump of hooves meeting the door, but I wasn’t concerned. Dad had invested in good, firm, enchanted clouds for all the doors, windows, and walls. We got a weird unicorn spell put on them so that we were the only ones who could mess with the house itself.
“Ow! Your house just zapped me!” She bucked the door again. “Ah! Why does it keep doing that instead of poofing?!” And again. “What the buck is your house made of?!”
Language, Scoots.
Moon-blessed silence fell after the third kick, and I thanked Luna that my friend was finally gone. Anything other than feather flu, and I probably would have at least attempted to go open the door, but with my wings like they were…
I coughed.
“Aha! I knew you were in here!”
“Scree!” I jumped as Scootaloo burst through the archway leading to the hallway. Jumped from behind, my wings flared out to full mast as I hissed.
“Bwahahahaha!” Far from scaring my assailant, I sent Scoots rolling on the floor with laughter. “What the hay happened to your wings?”
“Scootaloo?! How did you get in?!” My hiss turned into a whine.
“I picked the lock on your window.” Scoots rolled her eyes as she got up. “Seriously, though—” she snickered as she eyed my wings again, “—what’s up with your wings?”
“Feather flu…” I grimaced.
Scootaloo’s snickers grew.
“It’s not funny!” I stomped a hoof into the floor.
“You’re like a plucked chicken, though!” Scoots laughed. “How’d you get stuck with white feathers?!”
“I don’t know!” I hid behind my wings. “Please…. Just leave the homework and go…. I hate feather flu….”
“Darn it, Night….” I found myself being pulled into a hug. “You gotta learn to take a little ribbing.”
I leaned into the hug and sniffled.
“Eww!” Scoots laughed, pulling me closer to give me a noogie. “Don’t wipe your nose on me!”
“Screep!” I tried to pull away, giggling. Flapping my wings in an attempt to pull us apart, we tumbled to the floor, and plowed right through the coffee table. I used the momentum to bounce us end over end until I managed to pin her.
“Achoo!”
“Oh, gross!” Scootaloo squirmed beneath me. “Get off!”
I managed a grin and let her wiggle for a few seconds before getting off of her. “That’ll teach you to ambush your platoon commander.”
She hastily wiped herself down with the tissues. “You better not have gotten me sick. Rainbow Dash was going to take me to a Wonderbolts show this week.”
“It takes more than a week for feather flu to set in.” I ruffled my wings and hopped back onto the couch.
“Really?” Scoots tilted her head. “Awesome! Then maybe I’ll get sick just in time to miss that big test we’re having a few weeks from now.”
I giggled. “You really think that would stop Miss Cheerilee? You’d just end up taking it when you get back.”
“Yeah….” Scootaloo kicked the clouds. “Oh, well. I can handle some feather flu.”
“It’ll be easy for you,” I huffed. “You have feathers already. All you got to worry about is some shedding. Me?” I flared my wings out. “See these bumps? They’re all the spots where feathers are growing in. Really painful. Really gross. Extra super itchy.”
As if to prove a point, one of the bumps began to tingle. I arched my head to try and scratch it, but couldn’t reach it with the cone restricting me.
“Argh! Stupid cone!” I bit at the plastic feverishly as it denied me relief.
“Why don’t you just take it off?” She frowned. “It looks like your parents didn’t even lock it.”
My fangs scraped at the plastic in frustration. “Because as much as I hate it, it’s a good thing.”
“Good for what? Making you miserable?” Scootaloo’s wings buzzed irritably. “Besides, it makes you look stupid.”
The itching suddenly worsened for a moment before the bump popped in a rush of fluids. I shivered at the feeling, and quickly grabbed the tissue box from Scoots to clean myself.
“That’s why. Imagine getting a mouthful of that.” I held the soggy white and grey clump of tissues out to her. “Trust me, it tastes even worse than it looks”
She eyed the tissues warily. “Really glad I just got the snot right now.”
“I know, right?” I grinned. “You really dodged a bullet.”
“Faster than a speeding tank!” Scoots puffed out her chest.
“Wanna bet?” I tried to puff my own chest out only to cough. “Sergeant—“ Another cough. “—Sergeant Smiles has been giving me a few lessons on the side.”
I hacked my lungs out for a couple more seconds before frowning. “Or maybe you should go.” My ears wilted. “I am sick after all.”
“Eh.” Scootaloo shrugged. “You probably got me already. Want to play some board games or something?”
I smiled weakly as I sniffled a little. “Sounds like fun.”
I sighed in relief as the last of the feathers fell from my wings. Stretching them, I flapped them a bit to feel the air on my skin, and I giggled madly when there was none of the ticklish sensation of feathers.
“I’m free! I’m free! Screeheeheeheehee!” I bounced around the living room.
“That’s wonderful, Night.” Mom sniffled from the lounger. “Do you think you can help your father and I now that you’re all better?”
“Platoon Commander Nightingale is on the job!” I yanked the sun-blasted cone from my neck and threw it in the corner. “Don’t need this anymore!”
“Lucky son of a…” Dad grumbled several words I wasn’t allowed to say—picking at his own hated cone.
“Don’t make me come over there.” Mom threw a piece of the lounger at him.
“There’s enough room for two,” Dad chuckled and patted the seat next to him on the couch. “I just know you’re itching for somepony to preen your wings for you.”
“I’d love to—” Mom coughed. “—but I think I’ll wait a bit. I’d rather you didn’t blow all your fluids on me.”
Dad roared with laughter and spread his bumpy feather-coated wings. “Afraid of a little blood, dear? I thought you were in the guard?”
“I can deal with a little blood just fine.” Mom grinned as she grabbed a few tissues from the box next to her.
“That pus is extra, super gross.” I nodded. “What even makes it look all milky white?”
“I don’t know, Night, and I have a feeling it’s better that way.” Dad shook his head, chuckling. “Feather flu pus is probably one of the worst things I’ve ever tasted. Not quite the worst, but close to it.”
“What could possibly be worse?” I stared at Dad, eyes wide.
“They give you any guard rations yet in the Junior Guard?” Dad smiled sinisterly.
Mom threw another piece of the lounger at Dad. “Now isn’t the time for messing with your daughter, dear.” She looked to me. “Do you think you can handle making some soup? I’ll be right here to give you all the instructions you need.”
“You can count on me!” I saluted.
“Good.” Mom nodded. “First things first. You’ll need to fly out to Fluttershy’s. I used the last of our chicken making yesterday’s batch.”
“Huh!” I gasped, dancing on the tips of my hooves. “You mean you’re finally gonna teach me to make chicken noodle?!”
Mom smiled as I started bouncing about. “Yes, Night. Your father and I had a talk last night, and we agreed you were ready.” She grimaced for a moment. “Although, I certainly hope it ends up better than when your grandmother taught me.”
Dad laughed. “I remember that! Mom was so mad I volunteered to give you your homework when I knew you had the feather flu.”
“She came over to my house and made a scene just to guilt me into helping.” Mom snorted. “Really makes me wonder sometimes. I mean, she had to have figured we’d end up crushing on each other down the road. Why else would she have taught me to make chicken noodle?”
“To punish you, of course!” Dad gave a rumbling chuckle. “You beat up her precious little colt every week. She was dying to see you scream like a banshee when she pulled the chicken out.”
“She really underestimated me then.” Mom rolled her eyes.
“Yes. Yes, she did.” Dad hummed. “She didn’t believe me when I said you’d be back within a couple of minutes.”
“I had to make sure I didn’t throw up!” Mom huffed only to end up coughing. “Anyways.” She looked back at me. “Yes, I’ll be teaching you to make chicken noodle for the next few days. It’s so rare for you and your father to get sick that I don’t know when we’ll get another chance.”
“Screeheehee!” I did a little loop before bolting for the door. “Be right back, then!”
I sipped at the bowl of soup—my soup—and hummed in appreciation. Sure, the flavors were simple, but it just felt so good to have the soup’s warmth spread through my body.
“Oh… that’s the stuff….” Dad shuddered as took a sip. “She made it just like her grandma.”
“It’s not as good as Mom’s, though….” I pouted.
“But it is.” Mom pulled me into a hug only to turn away and sneeze. “I’ve been trying for years to make it just like your grandma, Night. Must be a thestral thing.” She pulled me back in tighter. “You did a great job.”
“Thanks.” I snuggled a bit closer, sticking my head in the crook of her neck. “It was really weird to gut a chicken, though.”
“Isn’t it?” Mom laughed. “I mean, you wouldn’t expect dead animals to make such good broth.”
“I’m just thankful Fluttershy gave me those tips.” I squirmed a bit. “They were really useful.” Also, detailed. Far too detailed. She almost made me want to go home without the chicken.
“Aye. She’s an understanding mare, that Fluttershy.” Dad hummed as he took another sip. “Experienced too. She didn’t even bat an eye when I asked her for chicken instead of the usual last week.”
“Perhaps we should share the recipe with her?” Mom was careful not to spill any of her own bowl on me as we cuddled. “I’m sure some of her critters would just love it.”
I drained the last of my bowl, licking up every last drop. “You think Miss Cheerilee would want to do a lesson on making chicken noodle soup in school?”
Mom put her own bowl in front of me—all the tasty bits of chicken left on the bottom just for me. “Sorry, Night, but you know you’re only allowed to make this when somepony is sick.”
“Can I make some for Scootaloo, then?” I pouted, turning on the puppy dog eyes. “She’s probably gonna get sick any day now with how much she’s been over. She even sneezed a couple times yesterday!”
Mom chuckled. “Sure, as long as you tell her what it is before you feed it to her.” She ruffled my mane. “You’ll also probably want to fish out all the chunks of chicken for her.”
Get rid of the chicken? But— But—
“But the chicken is the best part!” I whined.
“For you and me, maybe,” Dad rumbled. “It’s different for other ponies, though. You didn’t think your mother left you all her chicken just because you’re our special little star, did you?”
“Maybe….” I squirmed, looking at Mom. “What’s so wrong with chicken? You liked the broth! You eat Dad’s bugs!”
Mom hugged me tight. “Nothing is wrong with chicken, Night. I’m sure if you made it more often I’d like it as much as I like your father’s insect dishes, but I just can’t get used to it with how rarely it’s made.”
“Alright, then…” I sighed. “I guess I’ll just fish out all the chicken for myself when it’s done. Can we at least start it tonight?” I looked up at Mom, pouting.
“Maybe you should wait until you know she’s sick.” Mom wrapped her wings around me. “I’m sure she’ll love it, though.”
“Fine….” I sulked, ears flattening and body slumping.
Besides, I bet some healthy, hearty chicken noodle might even help her wings grow. Just had to be careful she didn’t overdo it. You are what you eat, after all.
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...You had to go there, didn't you?
I hate you so much.
So she has been eating her fair share then?
also SQEEEEEEEE new chaper
Cone of shame and feeding a chicken pieces of chicken?
a chapter about being sick... when Im sick myself.
was doing fine until I got the part about her wings....
That was so adorable I think I got diabetes.
Now I want to see our orange chicken with feather flu.
Another cute little chapter <3
Oops, forgot to track this. This is a great book I can't wait for more!
XD You dirty little .... *whaps with the newspaper* XD *on the nose, even!* :P
So, her Mom is a pegasus? Reading the first few chapters I had assumed she was, but it being so unstated/de-emphasized eventually led to me having doubts and wondering if she was another thestral who was just better adapted to sunlight/diurnal living.
But she can't see in the dark, can't eat chicken, is diurnal, and has feathers; so she's definitely a pegasus. (The bug-eating is what made me doubt myself I think. Plus she really acts a lot like her mate/another thestral, so there was that as well. I suppose she's just well-adjusted to thestrals and hardier than the average pony due to her guard training.)
PS: God, feather-flu sounds hellish for thestrals. Waaaay worse than for pegasi.
Also, TF kind of illness even is that? It makes them sprout feathers from boils on their wings? Jeez, must be magic's fault. That and I suppose they're close enough to pegasi that the disease can also infect them and then gets confused about the host not having feathers for it to force the molting of. So it just forces them to spontaneously grow them? Somehow?
What can happen when diseases cross-species is terrifying.
8618196
Magic and bacteria is scary yo.
Awesome! New chapter!
Edit: 5 mins later I'm still laughing at this.
"Alright, well another fantastic chapter with lots of cuteness and adorableness.
Brilliant addition and looking forward to the next one.
It's odd when you can read a story about a disease which causes bat-like wings to sprout feathers, and not only have it not be absurd, but plausible in the world it's set in.
Oh, the horror. I read the first chapter of this and somehow didn't track it, and now there's a whole ton of things to read.
But I'm in the middle of an epic. What to do???
She would. And though I don't normally condone the use of such language myself...I don't think Rarity's usage is unjustified.
As for the rest...oddly, the only thing I can think of is the poor chicken.
Bits of proteins and lysed leukocytes."
"Huh?"
"It is all the leftover bits from your white blood cells fighting the feather flu.
"How does that work?"
"Imagine taking a water balloon filled with pudding and popping it with a nail."
"Eeewww!"
"Yup. That's what your white blood cells are doing to the feather flu what's making you sick."
Being sick is never a good thing and it seems that the Feather Flu is worse for batponies than for pegasi. Fluttershy is indeed very understanding some of her critters are predators so eating meat wouldn't faze her. I think that Rabow calling Zephyr is actually mild for her and I wouldn't be surprised if she called worse things than that.
awesome chapter looking forward to seeing the reaction when scootaloo is given chicken noodle soup
8619076
Don't know the German language, so thanks for pointing "Ewige Nacht" ("Eternal night" right?)
Would of missed it otherwise.
8618561
I dunno, the chicken ended up rich broth.
I would wager MRSA pus is worse, considering what it smelled like when the huge boils I'd had exploded from the internal pressure... but you kinda don't want to lick something full of antibiotic resistant plague germs.
I'm always paranoid at every little pimple or itchy dot now.
But that would make Scoots a cannibal.
8618635 You should have seen the results of MRSA I had to deal with two years ago. Horrendous stuff. Outrageously contagious. You actually need to bleach your body for a month during and after antibiotic treatment to try and kill it all.
wow a awesome chapter i love it and the ending.
8619353
8619356
I would imagine so. Nothing should come out of a body looking like that...
Reminds me of when I was dating Significant Other and the first time I took him to have dinner with all my family. Most of my family is in the medical field so "naturally" the conversation drifted towards...things not typically discussed over dinner. We somehow ended up conversing about maggot debridement therapy.
Fair credit to Significant Other; he found the conversation fascinating and engaged my brothers and mum in conversation about various and sundry things regarding maggots and debridements and necrosis. One of my brothers leaned in and whispered to me. "I think he is a keeper SIG. I am impressed."
I do not think the people at the adjacent restaurant tables were impressed though...
8620143 I actually asked if they had the maggots available at the hospital since they seem immune to MRSA and suppress bacterial replication.
Sadly, no. So I had to resort to chemical warfare.
8622156
That would be German. Ewige nacht = Eternal night.
Don't ask me how to pronounce it. That's totally Google Translate there. :p
Though, it's kind of interesting, that eternal night was a thing to the bat ponies before Hearthswarming, instead of only at the time of Nightmare Moon.
Cheese and cracker crumbs. On. My. Screen.
DAMN YOU AUTHOR!!!!
8622156
It's german, and 'Ewige Nacht' means 'Eternal Night'
8618635
Plot twist: the pus is actually a baby blue color. It just looks milky white because Night and her father are colorblind. It's caused by the physical manifestation of an excess of pony air-magic leaking from their wings!
What does Night's voice sound like?
Congrats on making it to #7 on the top rated of all time! This comment was posted 11:01 PM January 16th, 2018. I live in Utah, so what ever time zone I'm in.
...
giggity
8617792
glory to clive the chicken god its a reference to an old friends character born of one of his friends feeding her chicken some kfc if anyone knows a guy named josh crank then you know what I'm referring to 3081 represent
8812955
I had pet chickens and fed them leftover chicken and they tore it up
The images for this chapter broke
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Really, now? Really?!
OOOOOOOH.
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Chickens are omnivores after all. On our farm, I've caught the chickens killing and tearing into a garter snake...
Any non-sapient omnivorous/carnivorous animal wouldn't balk at eating the flesh of their own kind (Survival of the fittest and all that). Well, the ones with the lower intelligence levels at least. Although... Humans have been known to eat human as well after all.
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Basically all birds are carnivores, because of their evolutionarily ancestors. You know dinosaurs
So cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuute.
And a little gross.
holy buck...
Question, is Night's mom a pegasus?
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Yes, I simply never explicitly state it in the earlier chapters. There are definitely a lot of signs to point to it, though.
Oh yes, nothing like a good olde fashioned chicken joke...
I'm sure Scoots would a heck of a lot more resistant to the idea of visiting if she knew what was sitting in their freezers half the time.
Uhhh, Pretty sure chickens are sentient in this universe... how does Fluttershy feel about them cooking her pets?
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Carnivore’s are a thing, though, and Fluttershy raises carnivores. She’s in the best position to understand out of almost anypony.
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I was under the impression that most animals weren’t exactly sentient, with a few exceptions. There are a number of differences between creatures we know to be sentient, and creatures that clearly aren’t. Most of the animals we see only use body language or simple noises to communicate.
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Being able to communicate arguably makes most of the shows animals sentient but not necessarily sapient. It also doesn't technically exclude them from being sapient. That said, the crux of my argument in that comment you responded to is that regardless of sapience or sentience or the lack thereof, everything has to eat, and Fluttershy having a special talent in understanding animals should know and recognize that. So like, while normal humans and ponies would get mad at a scavenger for digging up their pet buried in the backyard and eating them, Fluttershy would arguably just accept it as part of life. Like, she wouldn't want the scavenger to die by starving itself if the recently deceased elizabeak might help him.
How have I only just now realized that Mom is a pegasus, and not a thestral. I mean, the clues were in the first chapter. Daugh!