Terrible Sting

The State That I’m In

Big Mac sat at a desk in his room. A single lamp illuminated a blank piece of ordinary, letter-sized paper. His gaze shifted from the paper to the pen in his hoof, and then to the quaint little cuckoo-clock on the wall. It had been an hour since he first sat down, determined to write a letter that needed to be written. He studied the page, wondering for the umpteenth time how to begin.

The big stallion shivered. The fire in the adjacent living room had been extinguished long ago, leaving his room as cold as the night was outside.

Eventually, he decided that he wasn’t comfortable enough like this. One needs to be comfortable if one wants to write. So he unseated himself, and lay down with his stationery in front of him underneath the thick blanket on his hoof-carved bed.

Once more, Macintosh looked down at the page. He snorted in frustration, and saw his own breath condense into a miniature cloud. He watched the cloud rise and dissipate into nothingness.

He gently put his pen down to the page, so not to puncture the paper on the soft surface. Then he began to write.

Dear Caramel,

He stopped, not knowing where to go from there. Well, it was a start. Sort of. Big Mac knew in his mind and in his heart what he wanted to say, but he had no way of putting it into words.

Sighing, he looked at the wall beside his bed. Then Macintosh saw something that caused an unusual reaction in the big colt — surprise.

There, creeping along the wooden surface, was a large, orange and black wasp. It spread its translucent wings wide, but did not take flight. It turned, and raised its head. It seemed to be staring at Macintosh.

Big Mac returned the gaze. Then, slowly, his mind left that dark and cold bedroom, and travelled to another place, another time.

Gosh, I wonder who else from Ponyville is gonna be here, Big Mac wondered as he hopped off the hired carriage. He tipped the driver a few bits that Granny Smith had given him, then bade him goodbye.

He turned, and looked at the old wooden sign above his head.

CAMP HORSESHOE LAKE, the sign spelled out in large, faded black letters. It looked well-worn, rather than derelict.

Big Mac was very excited for his first time at summer camp — even though he might not look it outwardly. School had just ended, and Granny had surprised him by informing him that she had arranged for him to spend a few weeks at a wilderness camp some miles away from Ponyville.

A greeting from a big male pegasus drew him out of his small recollection.

“Hey there, son! I’ll assume you’re here for summer camp, eh?” The pegasus had a cheery voice, and a white coat with a maroon mane. “And I’ll also assume from the way you’re standin’ there that it’s your first time. Is that right?”

“Eeyup.”

“Beauty! I’m Great White, a counsellor here. What’s your name?”

“Big Macintosh.”

“Alright, Mac! It looks to me,” Great White said, looking at a clipboard he had produced from his saddlebag, “that you’re gonna be in Cabin Three, and your counsellor’s name is Leafy Tree! Come on, I’ll show you to your cabin!”

Big Mac followed the friendly pony to a sturdy-looking cabin. It was one of five that were lined up facing a paved surface. Surrounding the blacktop were numerous other buildings — a large structure Macintosh assumed was the mess hall, a nice-looking cabin, a small office, a medical building with a big red cross painted on the door. Through a path in the woods, Mac could see a sparkling lake.

On the tarmac many kids were already gathered and were playing various games. Big Mac recognised a few. He dropped his luggage off in front of Cabin Three and went to go join them.

“Hey Big Mac!” shouted Derpy, just before she was hit in the head by a Hoofball.

Big Mac made no response until he had joined the group. He didn’t like having to raise his voice.

“Howdy folks,” he said plainly.

He was amiably greeted by his friends, who included him in their chatting. Even though Big Mac never said much, most ponies just liked having him around. He radiated calmness and passive cheerfulness. Mac never needed a reason to be happy, he just was.

Later in the day, the colts from Cabin Three were situated around a small campfire, roasting marshmallows and talking about their busy day. Mac sat more or less on his own, content to watch the fire and remark upon the events of the day. He had tried his hoof at myriad sports and activities including archery, sailing, and his personal favourite, fishing. He had gone out in a canoe and cast his line in the middle of the lake. It was a hobby that was well suited to his patience. He also was a natural at canoeing, able to navigate the boat all by himself.

Just then another pony sat down beside him. It was somepony he hadn’t spoken to before, a colt named Caramel. He was a good-looking pony with a carefree smile. He had a golden-brown coat and a chocolate mane, and three horseshoes for a cutie mark.

“Hey,” said the amber colt.

“Hey,” responded Big Mac.

“You have a fun day? I know I did.”

“Eeyup.”

Caramel smiled. “You don’t talk too much, do you?”

“Nope.”

“Well that’s fine. I usually get along fine with quiet ponies. Maybe I talk a bit too much. Just enough to make up for them.” At this, Big Mac gave a smile and a nod of agreement.

“I saw that you spent a lot of time out fishing. You like that?”

“Eeeeyup.”

“Was it your favourite activity?”

“Eeyup. Caught some nice big ones.”

“It’s a really nice lake, part of the Palisades Equestrian Park. Maybe we can head out sometime, you can show me how it’s done.”

“That sounds nice.” Big Macintosh was never one to deny some company.

“Great! Anyways, I think my favourite activity was the Outdoorspony skills. Learning about bugs and plants, how to make fires. It’s really interesting...”

As the smaller earth pony went on, Macintosh reflected on just how true Caramel’s words had been. Caramel talked just enough to keep the conversation going at a pleasant pace. And he never rambled on for too long. He made sure Mac was part of it too, asking questions and listening to answers. Mac glanced at the other colt’s triple-horseshoe cutie mark, wondering that it wasn’t related to being a good conversationalist. By the time the groupmates retired to their cabin to sleep, Mac had made a new friend.

The next day, Mac was putting his canoe in the water alongside some other ponies when Caramel appeared quite suddenly next to him.

“Heya Big Mac! You don’t mind if I join you, do you?”

Mac didn’t mind at all, and he gladly tossed an extra rod into his boat. The two set off on the sparkling waters, eager to get started.

Horseshoe Lake, oddly enough, was shaped roughly like a horseshoe. The camp was situated on the outside edge of one of the arms. Macintosh and Caramel paddled through the clear water to the centre of the horseshoe, where both the arms met.

“Here’s a nice spot to cast,” explained Mac, “y’all can catch some nice lake trout over by those rocks.” At this, he gestured towards a collection of boulders that had fallen away from a small cliff by the water’s edge.

Then Macintosh showed Caramel how to tie on his hook and bait it, and gave him a quick rundown on how to cast.

“Ya want to get a nice flick out of it. Really snap yer hoof. Ready?”

“Eeyup!” responded Caramel with a wink.

Caramel aimed for the rocks Mac had mentioned and gave it a try. The line sailed out over the water, and the bobber landed around thirty feet away from the little canoe. A decent cast by most standards.

“See? Nothin’ to it,” Mac congratulated.

“Well... Now what? We just wait?”

Macintosh chuckled. This was a fairly standard reaction from a first-time fisher.

“Don’t you worry, y’all’ll have a bite before too long.”

He was right. It was only a few minutes before Caramel’s bobber started sinking.

“Oh, wow! Something’s going for it!” he exclaimed.

“Okay now, don’t get too excited. Ya have to be patient with it.”

“Come on, Big Mac! I’ve gotta reel it in, don’t I?”

Mac said nothing. Experience, he found, was often a better teacher than he himself.

Caramel worked his reel hard, and the fish came in, fighting back with just as much vigour. When the fish was a few feet from the boat, Caramel leant out over the side, trying to make a grab for it. As the line went slack, the fish shook the hook out easily and started swimming away.

“No!” Caramel shouted, leaning out just a bit too far...

SPLOOSH.

Caramel fell out the side of the canoe. Only Macintosh’s weight kept the boat from flipping. Coughing and sputtering, Caramel swam back and rested his head on the gunwale in defeat.

“Come now, get back in here and I’ll show y’all how ter do it proper-like.”

So Caramel, with Mac’s assistance, got back in the boat. He then listened — a little more patiently this time — as Mac explained how to drag a fish.

“Ya don’t have to do all the work. If y’all just keep the line taut, ya can let the fish swim all over and tire itself out.”

So, armed with this new knowledge, Caramel tried recasting.

But after almost half an hour in the sun, nothing was biting. Macintosh suggested that Caramel’s tumble into the lake had scared all the fish away.

“Right, well, we should find a new location then, right?”

“I reckon so. How’s about we paddle around that there cliff? I’ve been wondering what’s over there.” He motioned to the cliff, which was obscuring their vision of the other ‘arm’ of the horseshoe.

Caramel agreed, and they were about to set out when they heard a long whistle blast from the camp, signalling that it was time to return.

“Aw, man,” complained Caramel.

“Relax,” responded his red friend, “there’s always tomorrow.”

Over the next few days, the two ponies fell into a pleasant routine. Every day after breakfast, they would go out in a boat and fish for an hour or two. They sometimes swam in the lake, or rafted up and fished together with other ponies on the lake, but they were always together. The mystery of what was behind the cliff had been forgotten. It had turned out that area was out of bounds to campers anyways.

The time they spent together had obvious effects on both ponies. Caramel’s excitedness and occasional clumsiness made Big Mac a little more outgoing — sometimes he had to act a little faster than he was used to in order to fix his friend’s flubs.

And Caramel was learning how to be just a little more patient. By the end of their first week at camp, he had become a decent fisher, and had caught some that were nearly as big as Mac’s.

It all was going so well that it couldn’t possibly last.

One morning, as Mac and Caramel were putting their boat in, some dark clouds were rolling in over the camp.

“Huh. Those don’t look too pleasant,” Macintosh brooded as he watched them.

“Come on, don’t be such a filly,” retorted Caramel. “Today, I’m gonna show you up big time.”

“If you say so,” Mac replied, amused.

So they headed out into the lake, defying the sickly green sky.

As the two approached the familiar centre of Horseshoe Lake, where they had gone on the first day, strong winds had begun to blow. They were coming to regret their decision alarmingly quickly. Already the waters were too choppy to do any fishing in.

“Hey... Uh, Mac, think maybe we should head in?”

“Yea... Think that might be a good idea.”

But as the two turned the boat around to paddle back to camp, the wind let them both know that it had other plans in mind for them. Despite their efforts, they made no progress. In fact, they were slowly being pushed backwards, around the bend of the lake. It was taking all of Mac’s concentration at the stern to keep the canoe pointed at the camp.

Slowly, inexorably, the headwind drove them back, back, back. Caramel moaned as they drifted past the rocks near the cliff, and continued to drift until the cliff obscured their view of the camp.

The wind died down a bit once they had reached a slightly wider part of the lake, but the dark clouds overhead warned that a downpour was soon to come.

“Caramel, we need to get off the water!” Mac shouted, “that looks like a lil’ beach over there, we can pull the canoe out there!”

Caramel nodded his agreement, and the two paddled their way across the lake to reach the small sandy shore.

They ran their canoe aground on the beach, then hopped out and dragged the canoe dry. The rain had receded momentarily, and they carried their little boat over to a nearby tree.

“I think we should explore the area just a little, so that nothing takes us by surprise,” Caramel said to Macintosh as they leaned the canoe upside down against the tree. “If we split up we can do it twice as fast.”

“Alrighty. Be back here in ten minutes?”

Caramel agreed and they split up, going opposite directions and sweeping for anything that could make their temporary refuge unsafe.

Before long, Mac came across a small cave. He cautiously made his way inside, wary of whatever large creatures might be lurking in the dark. It turned out to be quite shallow however, he had soon swept the place clear and found it to be free of all threats.

As he emerged from the cave, however, an alarming sound met his ears. Through the trees, he heard a colt’s frightened cries, and knew it could only be Caramel.

Mac raced through the woods to find his friend, following the sound of the shouts, which didn’t stop. He grew more worried as Caramel’s cries got closer, and they weren’t stopping. Before long, he burst out of the forest and found himself on the beach, and saw an ugly sight.

Caramel was racing away from the trees and towards the water. Right on Caramel’s heels was the largest wasp that Macintosh had ever seen. It was easily the size of Mac’s hoof in length, and he could see its complex orange and black markings even from the distance he was at. Caramel was screaming now as he ran into the lake. Mac could see that the wasp had already stung his friend several times along his shoulders, and once on his neck. Just before Caramel submerged himself, the wasp drew near him once again. It landed on top of his head, and drove its stinger right into Caramel’s cheek.

Bucking hell!

Macintosh didn’t know what to do, but the wasp wasn’t leaving Caramel alone. It was waiting menacingly, buzzing around the water where Caramel had dove in. Mac knew he couldn’t leave his friend, a wasp of that size could definitely kill a pony.

“Hey!” he shouted at it, throwing caution aside in his rush to protect his friend. “Leave him alone!”

The wasp turned to face him. It started flying towards him, and Mac gulped. Surely this was how it ended. Stung to death by a predatory wasp, while a storm brewed around him. Mac looked for Caramel, but couldn’t see him. It was strange, but the thought of dying without seeing his friend one last time agitated Mac more than anything else about the situation.

It was in that moment that he realised that Caramel was the best friend he had ever had.

Bracing himself as the wasp closed the distance between them, he said a quick prayer to Celestia.

But then a curious thing happened.

The wasp stopped its charge, just before it was upon him. Macintosh could have touched it, it was within the reach of his hoof. But he didn’t do anything. He just looked at it, and it seemed to look back. Then without a warning or explanation of any kind, the wasp turned and flew away. Up it went, out over the lake, and disappeared from sight in the brewing storm clouds.

Big Mac didn’t know what to make of this. But there were more important matters at hoof.

He rushed over to where Caramel sat in the water, continuously pouring water over his head to try and dull the pain.

“Caramel!” he sputtered, “are you...?” He trailed off, seeing that Caramel was obviously far from okay. “What can I do to help?”

“There’s a plant...” Caramel said with great effort. “Analgesic...”

“Anal-what now?”

“It means painkiller!” Caramel said angrily, “it has bright blue flowers... And a rough texture. Saw some in a clearing... UGH, over there...” panting, he indicated a direction. “Is that stupid... Bucking wasp... Gone?”

“Yeah, it left. Don’t worry, something tells me it ain’t comin’ back. Now hang in there while I go find this miracle flower of yours.”

Macintosh sprinted off in the direction Caramel had told him to, quickly finding the clearing. There, next to a thick pine tree, were several of the plants he was looking for. Not knowing what part Caramel needed or how much, he elected to just uproot the whole lot and bring them back. He felt a little bad for the flowers as he returned with them clenched in his mouth, but the flowers hadn’t just been stung by a monstrous insect.

When Mac returned, Caramel was sitting on the beach, shivering in shock and pain. Caramel expressed his gratitude to big mac, then set about crushing the leaves of the plant and rubbing the pulpy mess he created on his wounds. They had begun to swell enormously, each forming a bright red mound at least an inch in diameter. There were seven stings, and it took a while for Caramel to apply his dressing.

Mac, meanwhile, was watching the storm clouds. He could see that across the lake it was raining heavily, right where the camp was. The wind had picked up again, and the downpour was quickly heading towards them.

“Uh, Caramel, I think maybe we ought to take shelter...”

“Mmm,” grunted Caramel in response. He gingerly rose from his position on the beach. His impromptu poultice had worked to dull the pain, but the wounds were still there.

The pair decided they would hide from the storm underneath their canoe, and Mac placed a few thick logs around the base of their shelter to keep it from moving around. There was just enough room to fit the both of them underneath.

The rain came before long, pounding on the hull of the boat. In the dim light, Mac saw tears running down Caramel’s face, accompanied by slight sobs.

“Caramel...” Mac began gently, “you’re gonna be okay. The storm will be over in a while, the folks from camp will come get us, it’ll all be fine.”

Caramel didn’t say anything. He just slowly shifted himself over towards Mac. Then he hugged the big red stallion, and didn’t let go. Mac placed his forelegs around Caramel too, carefully avoiding the swollen stings.

Before long the two were asleep in each other’s arms.

Big Mac awoke in a puddle. Carefully he slipped out of Caramel’s grasp, and lifted the canoe off of them. He tried to gauge the time, and saw it was near sunset. They had been asleep about six hours by his reckoning.

Asleep... Together? Does that count as sleeping together?

Mac was confused. He wasn’t sure what Caramel had meant by such an intimate gesture, but he felt like...

It was something... Something new, different...

Mac sat down, watching his friend gradually rise from his sleep.

Something more. Like...

As Caramel slowly convinced his body to move, Mac slowly convinced himself of one thing. That hug, that embrace... It had been more than a friend looking for support. He was sure of it. Before he had time to dwell on it, Caramel was awake.

“Hey.”

“Guess I really messed that up, huh?”

“Eeyup.”

The two sat looking at each other.

The sun was sinking behind the cliffs across the lake.

“Let’s see that back of yours, mister ‘I love nature and bugs, they’re so interesting’.”

Mac trotted over to inspect the marks on Caramel’s shoulders. The swelling had subsided a fair amount. The bump on Caramel’s cheek was looking especially better. Mac gingerly raised a hoof and placed it on his friend’s back in support as he stood beside him. They both turned and saw the sun as it was lowered beneath the horizon, painting the sky pink.

Mac and Caramel looked at each other once again. Mac was preparing to say something encouraging about Caramel’s condition. Or he was going to mention how they would probably be found by a search party soon. One way or the other, he wanted to reassure his friend in some way. But he noticed something that made him stop.

Caramel’s eyes. They were the most wonderful shade of blue he had ever seen. How had he not noticed that before? They were like the sky on a perfect day. Much like the perfect days they had spent here at camp.

It was this epiphany that caused Big Mac to do none of those reassuring things he was thinking of. It was this realisation that caused him to do something else entirely.

He leaned closer to his friend, and kissed him on the mouth.

Big Mac had never kissed anypony before. Never mind a colt, one of his best friends. He had no idea what he was doing, but he did it anyways. Never in his life had he felt such a confusing storm of emotions. He was afraid, but he felt free. He was horrified by what he had done, but excitement filled him. What happened next? Well, Mac was about to find out.

Caramel kissed back. It was awkward and graceless, yet filled with emotion. Just for a fleeting moment, they were lost in each other; they were completely out of their heads.

Then reality began to enter their heads once again, seeping through the defenses they had built without even realising it. Caramel drew away first, stumbling backwards and tripping, landing flat on his rear.

Sputtering all sorts of nonsense excuses, Mac found quite suddenly that the sand beneath his feet was the most interesting thing he had seen all day. He studied it intensely, not wanting to see the look on Caramel’s face. Then he felt a hoof on his shoulder.

He looked up to see Caramel beside him once again, looking cautious, embarrassed, and most of all, hopeful. A fragile smile graced his reddened features.

“Hey,” Caramel said, “relax.”

And then they kissed once more, more calmly this time. It was long, and it was pleasant. Mac’s earlier trepidation had left him completely. It had been replaced in its entirety by euphoria. They embraced, and kissed some more. When they broke away, they were both completely silent. They had no idea what to say.

The pair went down to the water’s edge and sat for a while. It wasn’t long before a flotilla of boats came into view from around the cliff. The search party. Mac and Caramel went to fetch their canoe and paddles. They put their boat in the lake once again, and went to let the party know that they were safe.

Big Mac was brought back from his reverie by the wasp. It had crawled from its position on the other side of the room to within a few feet of him. But Mac felt no fear, he just watched it as it came closer. Then it lifted its striped head once again, to look at Mac.

“You’re awful, you know that?” he told it in a heavy voice.

He looked down at the paper, the greeting still the only thing written. But the page was no longer blank. Now it was stained by a few tears.

Mac had never understood that day. He never understood what had happened. They had connected, they had been in love. He was sure of it. But when they returned to camp... It was like it had never happened. They never spoke of it, and never made any more advances.

That was five years ago now. Five years Mac had waited, and every time he saw Caramel he had wanted to say something. They had drifted apart after their time at camp, and all the while Mac had been too afraid to say something. Once every few months, he would sit down and try to write the same old letter, and put his thoughts into words. It never worked.

The wasp was inches away now, on the wall right in front of him. Big Mac did a double take, it almost looked like the wasp was sad, dejected.

“What, you feel bad about this or something? Stupid insect. Why don’t ya just go sting him again?” he spat at it.

The wasp spread its wings and took flight, buzzing over to the windowsill.

“Wait, wait, I didn’t actually mean it!”

With a final glance back at him, the wasp crawled through a crack at the bottom of the window and escaped into the cold night.

Mac pondered this for a moment. It couldn’t possibly be the same wasp. Wasps didn’t live for half a decade. But the way it had looked at him... Like an old friend, filled with regret.

Mac turned to his unwritten letter one last time.

Dear Caramel,

I don’t know why I’ve taken so long to write this. I have no excuses. But we really need...

Big Macintosh stopped writing. He didn’t know what they needed to do. He had no idea if Caramel would even respond. There was always the possibility that he had ignored Mac all these years because he didn’t want to revisit the episode at all. But if there was even the tiniest chance that it had been mutual doubt that had drove them apart... Well, Mac needed to act on it.

Thinking back to the time they had spent on the lake, chatting like the best of friends... He knew then what they needed to do.

...we really need to talk.

Yours, Big Macintosh

~~fin~~

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