Friends and Enemies

by ObabScribbler

Somepony Save Us!

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6. Somepony Save Us!

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Rainbow Dash floated up to the shallower waters of unconsciousness. She couldn’t make her body respond enough to open her eyes, but her ears could still pick up the sound of voices nearby. Maybe it was survival instinct once again kicking in, but the sound pulled her out of unconsciousness, though only enough to lie half in, half out of those murky depths.

“Ooooh,” said a strangely high-pitched voice. “Pony thing. Is pony thing. Pony thing is down here!”

“Pony thing?” said another, even higher pitched voice. They were both nasal, as if they had pinched their nostrils shut before speaking. “Down here? Nope, nope, nope. Pony things live on surface.”

“This one down here.”

“How that happen?”

A third voice chimed in, slightly deeper and breathier than the other two, though no less nasal. “Lookit! Flappy wingy thingies. Is pony thing from SKY?”

“Pony things live in sky?” asked the first doubtfully.

“Has flappy wingy thingies like tweety birds. Tweety birds live in sky.”

“But pony things eat grass. No grass in sky. What birdy pony things eat?”

“Um … buzzy flies? Fluffy white floaty puffballs?”

“Huh?”

“Clouds!”

“No clouds down here.” The first voice paused in thought. “Flies though. Birdy pony eating flies and got stucked, maybe?”

The second voice spoke again, much closer than before. “Don’t think eating flies reason for to be here. This pony thing hurted. Lookit, see? All busted up. Nasty reddy bloody mess. Maybe that why it down here? Hide like bunny in burrow when foxy loxy around?”

“What foxy loxy be big enough to hurt pony things?”

“Monster foxy loxy? Wolfy sharp-tooth? Snarly lion cat?”

Something soft and fuzzy brushed her face. Rainbow Dash groaned. It was the only response she could manage. The fuzzy thing retracted at great speed.

“Alive!” the second voice shrieked. “Pony thing alive! Ahhh! Runrunrunrun!”

“Runrunrunrun!” echoed the first voice.

“Runrunrunrun!”

“Runrunrunrun!”

“Runrunrunrun – oof!”

“Silly billies,” chastised the third voice. “Go crash into each other ‘cause so silly. Birdy pony thing too hurted to catch anything. Poor birdy pony thing.” The voice drew closer. “You all hurted and in pain. Not good, not good, definitely not good. We help?” Evidently the question wasn’t directed at her, as the first voice responded to it.

“We stay out of surface stuff. Always stay out. Staying out good. Safer. Surface stuff confusing.”

“But we not on surface now,” the third voice pointed out. “Birdy pony thing down here with us. Our turf. Our rules. Our stuff not confusing like surface stuff. Birdy pony thing on our turf, so we help or not?”

“What if dangerous?”

“Does hurted birdy pony thing look dangerous?”

“… No.”

“Help is good. Make us feel good. Would want help for us if we stuck on surface all hurted and busted up, right?”

“Right …”

“Good, good, very good!” the third voice cried. “Decided then! Where others be? Need others to help move birdy pony thing.” The speaker came close to Rainbow Dash and said into her ear, “Don’t you worry, birdy pony thing. We help. We take you home with us. Take care of you. You betcha!”

Rainbow Dash tried to prise her eyelids open but they were totally uncooperative. She could feel herself fading. Even though she tried to fight it, the voices became muted until, finally, they and their strange discussion were nothing at all.

---

“Scootaloo?” Cheerilee approached her student with caution, not because it was outside school hours, or because she was afraid of heights, but because the little filly was so still she wasn’t sure she was still awake and didn’t want to startle her into falling.

“Hmm?” Scootaloo looked around. Far from being asleep, her eyes were red-rimmed with tiredness. “Oh, hi Miss Cheerilee.”

“Oh, sweetheart, have you slept at ALL?”

“Kinda hard to sleep when the sun didn’t go down last night.” Scootaloo looked back at the sky, one hoof resting on the tortoise beside her. They were both transfixed.

Clouds freckled the bright blue expanse but it was still uncomfortably hot. Bands of Cloudsdale’s finest weather ponies could be seen herding even more clouds together in an attempt to create some shade, but it was an unrewarding task. Ponyville sweated while only clocks told them night had become day again.

Cheerilee knelt beside the strange pair. Neither Scootaloo nor the tortoise looked at her. She did her best not to look down as she asked, “Scootaloo, have you even had breakfast?”

“I’m not hungry.”

Cheerilee bit her lower lip. “Did … you go home last night?”

Scootaloo didn’t respond. Cheerilee already knew the answer. She knew Scootaloo lived at the foals’ home. Cheerilee had answered her door this morning to a panicked green mare in one of their uniforms demanding for help to find their missing charge. Cheerilee had joined in the search and guessed Scootaloo might be where she had been when Rainbow Dash and Celestia’s other chosen ponies had said goodbye before leaving for Canterlot. Sure enough, here she was on the school roof.

“Scootaloo, you should have told Matron where you were.”

“She wouldn’t have let me stay out. I gotta stay, Miss Cheerilee. I promised Rainbow Dash I’d wait for her.”

“You could still wait for her at home.”

Scootaloo shook her head. “The sun didn’t go down.”

Cheerilee blinked at the segue. “I know that, dear.”

“No, I mean the sun DIDN’T go down.”

“Um…”

“Don’t you get it? That means something went wrong. It means they didn’t find the Elements of Harmony and something happened to Princess Celestia.”

Cheerilee remembered the panic on Twilight’s face after the urgent summons to Canterlot. As ever, Twilight had been reluctant to part with details that might start a panic, but Rainbow Dash’s goodbye to Scootaloo had been more telling. She had promised to trounce ‘the big bads’ even without the Elements of Harmony. How or why they were missing was still a mystery, as was what had happened to the six ponies who had left and still not returned, nor sent any word of what was going on. Uneasiness hung like a pall over Ponyville and no amount of cheerful words could dispel it.

“I’m sure Rainbow Dash and her friends will be back soon and have a good explanation for –” Cheerilee started.

“No, they won’t.” Scootaloo sniffed and turned her face away. The hoof resting on the tortoise tapped its shell, carefully avoiding the little propeller stuck there. “Tank came up here to wait with me. He had a bad feeling.”

“The … tortoise had a bad feeling?” Cheerilee said dubiously.

“Uh-huh.” Scootaloo nodded. “I think … I think something really bad has happened to Rainbow Dash.” Her voice cracked at the end.

“Oh, sweetheart.” It was an awkward angle and precarious as well, but Cheerilee shuffled over and hooked her chin sideways over Scootaloo’s ears in a hoofless hug. “You mustn’t think like that. You have to stay positive.”

“I have a bad feeling too,” Scootaloo sniffled, holding back her tears with only partial success. “Why else would the sun and moon be all messed up? If something bad had only happened to Princess Celestia, Princess Luna could have taken over both for a while, like Celestia did while she was banished. But the moon didn’t come up, which means something must have happened to her too. We haven’t heard anything from anypony in Canterlot, even though they promised they’d tell us what was going on and … and … Miss Cheerileeeeeeee!” Scootaloo’s babbled words ended in a wail as she thrust her face into her teacher’s neck and sobbed.

Scootaloo was a tough little pony and rarely cried. That she was doing so now settled a bad feeling in Cheerilee’s heart as well. She couldn’t deny what Scootaloo was saying and would never lie, even if it made reality sound prettier. It would only make the truth that much harder to swallow when it finally came out and she would never cause undue pain to one of her students. Instead, she said nothing; just held Scootaloo close and raised her eyes to the empty sky.

---

Guards were stationed at every door of the concert hall. Since most of Canterlot’s population were earth ponies, they had required the biggest holding pen and the largest number of griffin squadrons to watch over them until King Claw or his generals passed down instructions for what to do next. Unlike the unicorns, who had magical wards keeping them contained, or the pegasi, who were the least numerous type of pony in the capitol, sheer strength, intimidation and a soundproofed, near-impenetrable building were the tools at the Claw Army’s disposal here.

Inside the hall things were squashed, but not so much there was standing room only. As such the captives had split into tiny groups and cliques, as was the wont of Canterlot ponies. Though conversation had died down a lot since they were marshalled inside, fearful murmurs still created a perpetual susurrus. Ponies who had once been the crème-de-la-crème of Equestrian society now cowered at the mercy of a brutish species all too eager to punish them for stepping out of line.

“What do you think they intend to do with us?” asked a pale blue mare in a tremulous whisper. “This isn’t fair. This just isn’t fair! What did we ever do to deserve this?”

“Where’s Princess Celestia?” demanded a grey stallion. “Where’s Princess Luna? Why aren’t they protecting us?”

“Maybe they’ve abandoned us,” said another stallion who had lost his wig in the round-up. His prematurely bald head gleamed in the soft mood lighting of the concert hall. It was a little perverse that such an elegant place was now the scene of so much terror and confusion. “Maybe they made a deal with the griffins. Maybe they sold us out to those bloodthirsty monsters!”

His wife gathered their two identical colts close and stroked their manes as they cried. “Don’t be so stupid!” she hissed. “You’re frightening the foals! The princesses would never do anything like that.”

“Then where are they?” the grey stallion demanded again.

“As if I’d know? I was taken from my house and brought here without an explanation, the same as you, so I know just as much as you do.”

“Maybe …” The tremulous mare cleared her throat and said in a voice so soft almost none of them could hear her. “Maybe they’re dead. Maybe the griffins … killed them. Maybe they’re going to … to kill us too. Maybe that’s why they’ve put us all in one place. Maybe they’re going to … to …”

The colts cried even harder. Their mother glared at the other mare. “Don’t talk rubbish. Of course the princesses aren’t dead.”

“Then. Where. Are. They?” demanded the first stallion, his eyes beginning to go wild. He stamped a hoof in frustration. “Why haven’t they used their magic to stop all this nonsense and rescue us? And what about Celestia’s student – what’s her name, the purple unicorn?”

“Twilight Sparkle.”

“Yes, what about her and those mares from Ponyville? They have a duty to come and rescue us!”

“I heard they already came before the battle,” said the balding stallion.

“Well I haven’t seen them! Where are they? Why aren’t they doing their duty?”

The mother of the colts gritted her teeth. “I. Don’t. Know. Now. Shut. Up. Asking!”

“Maybe Twilight Sparkle and her friends were already defeated. We know there was fighting. We saw the Wonderbolts. They wouldn’t have come if things weren’t serious.” The tremulous mare sank to her haunches, her bottom lip quivering. “But we’re here like this even though they came. Not even the Wonderbolts could defeat the griffins.” She gulped. “We’re all going to d-die –”

The wild-eyed stallion cantered over and cuffed her around the ears. “Shut up!”

She wailed and held onto her elaborate hairstyle, as if the worst thing she had to worry about was it coming undone. “V-Vainglorious? Why did you d-do that?”

“I swear, Ritzy, if you don’t shut your mouth right now I’m going to shut it for you.”

Her eyes widened and fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. She started to wail in earnest, accompanied by the two colts. Several ponies rushed to her aid as the stallion raised his hoof to strike her before he was tackled to the floor. He struggled, his own panic giving him extra strength as the discussion turned into as close to a brawl as Canterlot high society had ever seen – at least until two griffin guards descended and put a stop to it.

In the far corner another mare shook her head as she watched them. One day of being captives was enough to reduce these aristocratic ponies to behaviour the lower classes they had always looked down upon would find appalling. Lack of information, hunger, thirst and the constant baleful stares of their captors were combining to create a kind of madness in them. Their inherent selfishness was rearing its ugly head in the worst ways possible. Didn’t they realise they had to pull together at a time like this? Crises required unity, not self-centredness.

She looked down at the pony curled up asleep beside her. They hadn’t even known each other before this; not in any way that truly counted. A single encounter at the Grand Galloping Gala wasn’t even grounds to call them acquaintances, yet she had recognised the other pony the moment she set eyes on her and quickly realised the griffins had not grasped the significance of this particular captive. The fact that no other pony had recognised her either was testament to how fear for their own necks had made them blind to the bigger picture. If they had, maybe there would be more than just herself protecting what might be a chance at surviving this mess.

“Octavia?” Evidently the other pony was not really asleep.

“Yes?”

“Are they fighting again?”

Octavia sighed. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“The same as last time.” The same as every time. The earth ponies were turning on each other because they couldn’t turn on their sharp-clawed, razor-beaked guards. Octavia wondered whether the unicorns and pegasi were doing the same. She had yet to see any of her quartet and worried at what this might mean. “You just stick close to me. We don’t want to get involved in any of that.”

“Okay.” Seconds later the other pony said plaintively, “I’m hungry.”

Octavia tried to ignore her own rumbling stomach. The griffins hadn’t fed or watered them and the concert hall was uncomfortably warm. The air felt thick, like they were breathing in chunks of sweat and anxiety. A lack of any windows made it even worse. There was nothing like an absence of sky to make anypony antsy and liable to snap under pressure. “I apologise, but I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about that.”

“But my tummy hurts.”

Octavia gently pushed her nose against the other pony’s ear. It was instinctive and surprised her. She wasn’t the motherly type, but this was like dealing with a foal. Just as she had instantly recognised this mare, she had also realised why the other pony’s behaviour hadn’t alerted anyone to her true identity: she didn’t even know it herself. She had sat, lost and forlorn, in this very corner of the concert hall until Octavia came over and shielded her from view with her own body.

“Try to get some sleep,” Octavia advised. “That way you won’t be able to think about your sore tummy.”

The other pony looked up at her through her one visible eye. The other had swelled shut and, along with her puffed-up lip and numerous cuts, completely changed the mare’s face. The bandage Octavia had improvised from her own collar and bowtie to bind her bleeding head wound completed the transformation. That was likely a good thing. If she had looked more like herself the griffins might have been quicker to recognise her and take her away. Octavia had overheard enough of their brash, self-congratulatory conversations to know that the Elements of Harmony had been dealt with harshly during the attack.

“Octavia?”

“Yes?”

“What’s gonna happen to us?”

“I don’t know.”

“Will it be something bad?”

“I hope not.”

The other pony snuggled closer, as if she was a little filly, not a fully grown mare who had saved Equestria numerous times. “As long as I’m with you, we’ll be okay. We can look out for each other, right?”

“Um, right.”

The other pony yawned and curled up again, flicking her pink tail over her nose. “I’m glad you found me. I was real scared before, on account of I didn’t know where I was or what was going on. I’m still kinda scared, and I’m still not sure what’s going on, but it’s not so bad now. It’s …” She yawned again. “It’s good to have friends, right Octavia?”

Octavia paused before saying the name she had picked out of the air, along with a tissue of lies about years of friendship, in an effort to protect this pony’s identity. Before today they had not even exchanged a word. She had actually looked down on the other mare and hoped never to have to deal with her quirky, flamboyant disregard for etiquette ever again.

Irony, thy name is Octavia.

“Octavia?”

“Indeed it is, Jubilation.” She sighed. “It is indeed good to have friends in times of crisis.”

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Comments

[Tazmaniac]

this story is amazing! keep it up friend!

[Crimson Dawn]

Oh poor Pinkie...

[Eurobeat11]

1878384
That was Pinkie?
I'm an idiot.