Heart of Gold, Feathers of Steel

by Nicknack

Chapter Three

The next morning, a weird sense of motivation woke me up early. After a lucky fish breakfast, my cave felt boring, so I headed back out and took a bath. Two days in a row was probably some sort of record for me, but I needed to do something with my time.

When I got back to my cave, I still felt jittery, so I preened myself. Growing up, I always hated the process; there were always better things to do with my free time. In exile, there was no reason to care. But for some reason, that restless morning, the slow, delicate grooming calmed me down a little—and it kind of felt good, too.

Every time I found a loose or dead feather, I plucked it out and put it into one of two piles. Good-sized wing feathers could be sold for quills, and it was useful to have some Equestrian money. I didn’t spend much time on my chest; the feathers were worthless, and because of my scars, they never lay flat anyway.

An hour later, I was neat, clean... and completely bored. I tried not to think about Dash’s response too much; given our current speed of writing letters, it’d probably be mid-summer before she got back to me. Then again, I had never really asked her a direct question like that. That made me think that Dash would write back quickly, even if it was to say no.

Around noon, I decided to go up to Farrington again. There was no way Dash had written back yet, but I had a small fortune’s worth of feathers to deal with. It was almost lunchtime, too, so I could eat in the city... then, I could swing by the post office and see if an early-evening delivery had come for me.

* * *

In Farrington’s Market District—I missed the southern guard, but I knew it was Wednesday the... something-early-th. I went to my usual writing supplies shop and filled my coin sack with more bits than I knew what to do with. I left the store without buying anything, but I did smile as I passed a cheap stationery kit.

After a not-real-filling flower sandwich for lunch, I wove aimlessly through the streets of the Market District and looked at the store windows in a game of “What would I do with that?” Most of the knickknacks were stupid or pony-oriented, which made me wonder what Dash would do with them. Slowly, my game turned into an actual question of what gift I would bring if I visited her. It was dangerous to get my hopes up, but after nearly three years of sitting alone in my cave, I couldn’t help myself.

Around four-thirty, I quit fake-shopping and went to the post office, where the stallion clerk was working. He was old and faded gray, but over the years, I had come to prefer him. He didn’t work as often as his oh-so-charming coworker, but he was polite—even if his vacant grin made me wonder if he was all there.

I was lucky enough to get him instead of the mare, but reality finally caught up with my high spirits. It had only been a day, so of course, Dash hadn’t responded yet. “But try back tomorrow,” the old clerk urged me.

* * *

Thursday was pretty much a repeat of Wednesday, so by Friday morning, I was thinking that Dash wasn’t going to get back to me for a while. I still wanted to head up there one more time, but after that, I was going to start spacing out my trips to Farrington; if Dash wasn’t writing back to me, I couldn’t keep wasting the energy to go up there every day.

The dark, cloudy sky seemed like it was reflecting my worries, which gave me even more of a reason to put off my trip until Saturday. Then again, it didn’t look like a big storm for lightning bolts, so I shrugged it off—a motion that I rolled down to my wings. With a few flaps, I was on my way to the city.

The whole flight, my mind swam with possibilities: Dash’s letter wasn’t there. It was there. She said yes. She said no. She’d understand everything about my banishment.

She wouldn’t.

I lost track of time while I was flying, so it came as a jolt when the lake rushed past below. The home stretch, I noted, and for once, the weight in my stomach didn’t come from how fast I was flying.

I glanced up at the sky when I landed outside the city; the weather looked a lot worse up north. Time-guard seemed a bit weird, too; instead of his usual, happy chiming, he seemed off in the distance when he told me it was close to noon. My walk to the post office seemed slower than usual, even though I was making a conscious effort to move as fast as my palms let me.

Inside, the post office was empty. I chuckled at the vacant space behind the counter; all of my worries got me worked up over nothing. The novelty ended quickly as I realized I didn’t know where to go from there. Almost on cue, a female voice called out from the back, “Just a moment, please!”

With that, I walked over to the counter and sat down in front of it. Because of my posture, I wasn’t much shorter when I sat, and I had thought about how this encounter was going to play out ever since my dramatic exit on Tuesday. I wanted to enjoy it.

The aquamarine clerk didn’t disappoint.

When she walked through the door, she stopped mid-step. A whole range of emotions played across her face: anger, loathing, disgust. In the end, a smile stretched out her cheeks. It looked like her teeth were clenching back a few choice words.

Her conflict was delicious, so I didn’t need any help smiling. “Hi there,” I said in a too-happy tone. “Has anyone wrote back yet?”

She didn’t say anything; instead, she just vanished behind the swinging door. A few minutes later, she came back out, looking absolutely horrified and levitating a letter next to her head. This time, she put it down on the counter, which created a long pause where both of us took turns staring at it, then back at each other.

Eventually, I declared, “I’ve got better things to do with my life,” and stood up, picking up Dash’s letter. I pinched it between two fingers and waved as I turned around, “Later, mail bitch.”

After I walked out the door, I jolted as it slammed behind me. I turned to face it, and I blinked, questioning my wisdom of escalating things with a unicorn. Even Father granted them a small mote of respect; they were the one race of ponies that stood a chance against an adult griffin in one-on-one combat.

With a shrug, I looked down at Dash’s letter. Two days was pretty quick for her—which could be a yes, or it could be a no. And it was thicker than usual...

Shaking my head, I sliced through the top of Dash’s envelope to find out what she said:

Hey G!

You’re right! It has been too long! These letters are good for keeping in touch, but writing them is so boring!! I hope you’re not mad or anything, but that’s sort of why I’m so bad at writing you back all the time.

Of course you can come and visit! You can stay for as long as you want, too! I made my house myself, so it’s got tons of room for all my awesomeness!

Just one condition, though: if you don’t want pony food... can you get it from the Everfree Forest near here? One of my friends here in Ponyville loves all the animals around town so much, it’d be horrible for her to have to go through losing one (or more) just so you can get lunch.

You probably like writing letters as much as I do, so just come on down! You’ll be able to tell which house is mine (it’s the one with RAINBOWS!) as soon as you enter Ponyville airspace. If I’m not home, I’ll be back soon... a weather pegasus’s job is never done, after all.

I hope to see you soon!

~Dash

I reread her letter almost three times, getting more and more excited each time. Blinking back tears, I swallowed the desire to cry out in joy at the news; it wouldn’t do any good to freak out everyone in the street with me.

There was a trash can right by the post office, so I threw the letter away before heading north to the Market District. Now I knew for certain that I was going to visit Dash, I had to pick up her gift: a set of Wonderbolts trading cards. It wasn’t a huge gift, but she loved that team.

The clouds from the morning were still looming up above, which made me think about the practical part of visiting Dash. Knowing that she lived in Ponyville and knowing where she lived were two completely different things. I bought a map and spent a good half hour in the store trying to figure out travel times; in the end, I figured that it’d take between eight and twelve hours, depending on the weather. Looking at the shop’s clock, I did the math: if I left right at that moment, it would be well after midnight when I showed up at Dash’s house.

Then again, one of my goals in visiting was to not terrify her.

I left Farrington and decided that the best way to do things would be to head back to my cave and a compromise: I would fly back to my cave and see how the weather turned. Once I could safely head out, I’d make for Ponyville, which was southeast of my cave. I could figure out landmarks and bearing along the way, and I could make sure I showed up at a respectable hour.

With a grin, I fantasized catching up with Dash. Our visit was going to be perfect.

* * *

Sunday morning lived up to its name, and the morning sun blasted me awake at dawn.

In my cave, I usually only got a dim preview of the sunrise, and that woke me up. However, after a late start on Saturday and spending most of the day flying against headwinds, I hadn’t been able to find a suitable cave to sleep in at night—there was a big one, but it reeked of dragon musk, so I assumed it was “occupied.” I didn’t want to get into a territorial dispute with something that could crush me like a beetle.

I didn’t want to sleep on a cloud, even though it was apparently a power I had; that had been a strange discovery at Junior Speedsters’. I didn’t trust clouds, and I didn’t trust the weird, overly-thick clouds near Ponyville, so I had ended up sleeping on a narrow cliff near the top of the mountain. The only thing that spot lacked was any sort of cover from the sun, but after I learned that my wing didn’t help anything, I decided I had to get up for the day anyway.

There was a stream nearby, so I could take care of some things before I continued on my way to Dash’s; first, I made sure to leave her package on the ground away from water. After that, my first order of business came by shortly: the fish didn’t even know what hit him until it was too late. Or her, I thought as I tore its spine out. Who knows? Fish are weird.

After breakfast, I took a bath to wash the fish remnants and bug goo off me. As fast as I flew, bugs didn’t bounce off me as much as they exploded on contact. I had about a half-hour’s flight left between me and Ponyville, so I wouldn’t be entirely fresh on arrival, but barring an errant locust swarm, I’d be somewhat decent.

With my morning preparations out of the way, I grabbed Dash’s package and took off towards Ponyville. Since I was at a lower altitude than I had woken up at, I got to see the sun rise a second time in my peripheral vision. It was an interesting bit of nature and angles, but so close to the Equestrian capital, it mostly made me feel like I was being watched.

Ten minutes later, the outline of a small village appeared on the horizon. As I got closer, I was certain that it was Ponyville. In the air above the town, I saw a house made of clouds with what could only be described as “RAINBOWS,” as Dash had put it. I smiled and put on an extra burst of speed; as I approached, I noticed that the rainbows weren’t cutting through her house as much as they were flowing through it, like an elaborate waterfall system.

There was no way it wasn’t Dash’s house—it was loud and proud, just like her. When I knew it was hers, the house filled me with a sense of dread; I knew what I had come to do, and I had no idea how this visit was going to go. But no matter how high the stakes were, the only thing to do was to keep flying; I had come too far to just chicken out at the last minute.

Dash’s front door flew open, and all I could register was a streak of rainbow-and-blue headed straight for me. I braced for impact, but it didn’t matter; when Dash hit me, the force of her combination tackle and hug flipped me over in midair. Thinking quickly, I rolled my wings as far as they would go and flapped backwards. To my surprise, I kept the two of us aloft long enough to return Dash’s embrace with one arm—the other was still holding her gift.

“Oh my gosh, G!” Dash’s voice was bursting with excitement. “It’s been forever! How was your flight?”

My heart sang as I saw the enormous smile on her face. In three years, I had nearly forgotten, but Dash could never keep her feelings off her face. The sheer joy in her smile was contagious, and I felt myself chuckling.

“Buggy,” I replied through the laughter.

“Yeah, you’ll get that on long trips,” Dash said with a sincere nod, not skipping a beat. “Even somepony as awesome as me can’t dodge all those little guys.” She broke out of the hug and hovered in place. I flipped back over, and Dash waved at her house. “Come on! I’ll let you wash up in my pool!”

She flew off, and I followed her over to a pool of the same rainbow liquid that flowed through her house. Up close, I could see the colors in it shimmer and flow, but there wasn’t any breeze to stir it. I eyed the liquid suspiciously, but since Dash hadn’t grown a second head or anything, I figured it was safe to be near.

“It might tingle a little, but it’s the best for cleaning up after a hard day’s flight! Just watch your eyes..”

“Thanks dude,” I replied with a nod. I thought about where to safely put Dash’s trading cards, and the obvious answer struck me. “Oh, before I forget, here!” I tossed her the package.

Dash gasped, “For me?” before catching them, and her smile got even larger. On any other pony, it would’ve been impossible. “G, you didn’t need to bring a present!”

“It’s cool.” I shrugged. “Open it up!”

She tore into the brown wrapping paper with her teeth, then opened the box inside. “No. Way. These are the coolest!” she exclaimed.

I smiled; Dash liked the cards. To prove my point, she started to rant and rave about the different members of the team, quoting their ages, speeds, and signature moves. Like always, I tried to understand everything, but when she delved into various race circuits, I couldn’t keep track of it all.

While Dash did her fanfilly thing, I turned my attention to the rainbow pool, still nodding my fake comprehension. I stuck a finger in the multicolored liquid. It was warm, like a hot spring.

“Sorry, G,” Dash abruptly stopped her rant, and I snapped my eyes back to her. “I forgot you’re not as big on the Wonderbolts as I am.”

“No one is.” I shook my head and grinned.

She chuckled before waving at her pool. “Go ahead, get the bugs and gunk out of your feathers.”

With her permission, I closed my eyes, took a breath, and dunked my head in. I scrubbed with my hands, and by the time I ran out of air, I was reasonably clean. Remembering Dash’s warning, I wiped my hands off on the nearby cloud before wiping what I could away from my eyes.

When I looked at Dash, my eyes didn’t burn, but she was losing the fight to suppress a laugh. It made me a little nervous. “What’s funny?”

“Oh, nothing.” Laughter chipped through her voice as she added, “Rainbow G.”

“What?”

“Hold on, hold on, let me put these away.” She waved her cards at me while turning around.

I sat by the pool, completely lost at what she was going on about. Rainbow G? That was a new one. Before I could think about it too much, Dash came back outside, holding a little mirror. She brought it up to my face and asked, “See?”

“Wha... bu...” Words were failing. My head was now a rainbow of colors, looking almost exactly like Dash’s mane. After a few more sputters, I found my tongue. “Uh, dude?” I asked calmly. “What did you do to my head?”

For an answer, Dash collapsed on the cloud in a gale of laughter. I felt a twitch of annoyance at being ignored, but it dashed away when I saw how hard she was laughing. Finally, I couldn’t help myself—I started in as well. It was a pretty weird situation. After a few chuckles, I asked, “So, uh... this isn’t permanent, is it?”

Immediately, Dash’s laughter faded, and a mix between embarrassment and terror played in her eyes. I shared her fear for a moment, but then I remembered what someone had done to me at Junior Speedsters’, and how that prank hadn’t been about laughing with a friend...

About six weeks into the summer, I woke up pink. To be more specific, someone had dyed my head feathers pink while I was asleep. They had also gone the extra mile, and dyed the word “DYKE” on my flank, right where a cutie mark would’ve gone.

Immediately, I knew who had done it: Stormglider, a snooty, hateful little filly, had been offended by my blunt attitude when we first met. Dash and I had usually been good about trading insults with her and her lackeys, but I remembered the sinking feeling when I realized that Stormglider had gone too far.

The cutie mark didn’t last very long, even though the first-aid kit’s razor left behind a ragged bald patch. That was definitely better than my head feathers; it was spring when I had completely molted back to white, and I could swear that the patches around my eyes were still pinker than they used to be.

Three years after the first prank, Dash was standing in front of me, stammering an apology. “S-sorry... ohmygosh, I didn’t mean for that to—”

“I’m sure you didn’t, Dash,” I interrupted her with a pair of fingers on her nose before she could start one of her meltdowns. “This is different than then. But, uh, do you have any normal water?”

Dash calmed down, and I took my hand back. Then, her expression lit up and she shouted, “Don’t worry, G. I’ve got it!” as she took off flying. From below, I watched as she grabbed a dark gray cloud and moved it over me. Then it clicked: Dash is in charge of the weather. She isn’t going to...

The resulting deluge was less like “rain” and more like “a monsoon.” Still, ten seconds later when Dash held up her little mirror, my feathers weren’t rainbow-colored anymore.

Now, they were transparent, and the ragged scars on my chest were clearly visible. As I looked back up, I hoped Dash wouldn’t—

“Where’d you get those?” Her voice was grim, and she had a concerned eyebrow raised.

I thought hard about that answer. Here was the one pony I could tell everything, the one pony I had specifically come here to tell everything, and she had just given me an opening a mile wide.

It was the perfect time to tell her. But I couldn’t. Not yet, anyway. It was still too early to start unloading all of my problems on her—especially right after bringing up Stormglider’s crap. There’ll be time for everything later, I told myself; to Dash, I explained, “I got in a fight a while back.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, either.

She cocked her head and squinted at my chest. For a moment, I was certain she had seen through my lie. After what felt like an eternity, she grinned. “Well, I’d hate to see the other guy... or, uh, girl,” she added awkwardly.

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so silence washed back over us. Again, Dash broke it: “Here, I’ll dry you off! With my patented Rain-Blow Dry, you’ll be dry in ten seconds—”

I ruffled up my feathers and shook as violently as I could. My tried and true method of getting dry also worked quickly, but it took a toll on my surroundings.

“—flat,” Dash finished her sentence. She wasn’t nearly as drenched as I had been, but her mane was notably plastered to her head and neck.

“Gotcha,” I said, pointing and winking.

We both burst out laughing, and for the first time in ages, I knew that everything was going to be okay. Our morning had gotten off to a rough start, but we were past that, and we were going to pick our friendship up right where it left off.

When we finished horsing around, Dash flew into the air again and swerved into a tight circle. She picked up her speed, and because of her rainbowy mane and tail, she left a multicolored blur behind her. I felt a light misting of water—Dash’s water—but it wasn’t anything like the downpour from earlier.

When Dash broke out of the ring and landed in front of me, her mane was plastered back. As she smoothed it down and to the side—her usual style—I nodded in approval. “Not bad, not bad.” She beamed, so I razzed her a little, “We definitely need to go out flying later so you can show me all of your new tricks.”

“And you can show me yours!” Dash added gleefully.

It was like getting punched in the face; mentally, I slapped myself. Of course she was going to want you to fly with her! I tried to sound confident as I replied, “Er... yeah!”

Barring a few weirdos, griffins didn’t fly for “fun,” unless “fights to the death” counted. Personally, I was too self-conscious about flying—probably due to having my flying skills constantly berated in my younger days. Junior Speedsters’ was the first time I had ever tried stunt flying, and I had been miserable at it, despite Dash’s support.

Still, I tried to think of how to get out of flying today. My first idea was my old standby from camp: if I could beat Dash in a race, she’d focus more on her flying, leaving me to watch. I had always been slightly faster than her in a flat-out race with no turning; the only reason she “beat” me in the singles racing event at Junior Speedsters’ was because I had been disqualified.

I still resented that, too. I hadn’t cheated, I had just punched a colt in the throat. He could still fly, the wuss.

Dash interrupted my memories with a hug, clamping her neck into mine as she exclaimed, “Oh, G! It’s so great to see you again! Don’t get me wrong, I like everypony here and everything, but it’s great to hang out with someone who knows how to fly!”

I returned the hug, smiling weakly off into the distance. If she wasn’t yanking my chain, then it didn’t say much for the flight capabilities of... everypony... in Ponyville. I rolled my eyes at her stupid slang word.

We broke out of the hug, and Dash asked, “So, what have you been up to for, uh, the last few years?” I couldn’t tell if she was feeling guilt or concern, but again, there was the opening to tell her.

Again, I closed it with a half-truth. “Not too much, really.” That was a little too true, so I kept going, “In terms of flying, I’ve been going for speed, over agility.”

“Have you met any boys?” I heard the joking in her voice, but I knew her well enough. It was a defense mechanism to ask a serious, personal question without embarrassing anyone.

I couldn’t remember if I had told her about how unlikely that would be for a female griffin; instead, I shrugged the question off. “Nope; still flyin’ solo. What about you?”

She shook her head, and silence fell over us. Before it turned awkward, I mentioned the first thing that came to mind: “But yeah, that reminds me of when I sent you that letter the other day...”

I told her about how I had flashed the Farrington mail clerk, and when I finished, Dash chuckled. “You’re so wrong, G.” I gave a pleased smile; that was what she always said about my darker humor. I was glad that part of me had stayed the same over the past few years, and even better, I was glad things between Dash and me were still the same.

We swapped stories and laughter for the rest of the morning, but it only felt like a few minutes. I spent the whole time glowing inside, and I wished we could spend the rest of the day like that: remembering and laughing in each other’s company.

It was the best morning I had in years.

Comments

[Knight of Cerebus]

knowing Pinkie is going to break this up is just.... gah

[L4]

aah... I really hate expecting pinkie pie...

god, i hated her in this episode.

DX canon or noncanon ending... uuu... the tension kills me.

[Comma-Kazie]

Interesting that money seems to be a foreign concept to her...I wonder if griffon society is communal, barter-based, or just small enough that they can't help but share resources out of necessity, a la the Quarian Flotilla.

D'aw, Rainbow's really going the extra mile to try and catch up with her. Now I'm actually kinda annoyed with Pinkie Pie for butting in. I questioned her motivations when I first saw the episode, but after reading how much Gilda's looking forward to her time with Rainbow...

Our visit was going to be perfect.

gifsoup.com/webroot/animatedgifs/418787_o.gif

Yikes, Rainbow's reaction to Gilda not liking a prank leaves an unsettling suspicion that her comeuppance for the last prank taken too far is more in keeping with griffon nature than pony... That's a helluvan elephant to have in the room when trying to reconnect.

[PresentPerfect]

As a setup for the episode, this is working really well at giving it some extra context.

I found a typo too: "it’d would take"