What is the best medicine? How do we respond when life challenges us? Six variations on a theme.
No one makes it through life unchallenged. For every person there comes a time when the world hurts them, betrays them, or calls on them for something great. It is in those dire moments that six mares will learn just what they are made of.
Sometimes the best medicine isn't for the body. It is for the soul.
[Second place finisher in the March Writeoff competition.]
Princess Twilight Sparkle froze in the act of signing her name. The scroll before her was the third of nearly a dozen royal proclamations she would be reading that day, on topics ranging from letters of congratulations to diplomatic correspondence. In short, it was nothing special, and she knew she could safely sign anything her staff put in front of her without bothering to read it, and have no fear of any ill result of her inattentiveness.
Twilight put the quill down and waited. Sure enough, a few seconds later the doors to her study burst open, and in stumbled a unicorn filly with a salmon coat and a shocking canary yellow mane all askew. She panted, out of breath, and when she saw Twilight seated at her desk she jumped to her hooves and rushed over to her.
“Princess! I have to tell you something!”
“Oh?” Twilight glanced at the open door. Outside, one of her guards had poked his head around the corner, but as usual they made no attempt to stop her student from entering.
“What is it, Firecracker?” she continued, turning her attention back to the filly. The coat around Firecracker’s front hooves was blackened, and Twilight could make out the thick, acrid scent of ash wafting from her.
Neither of those things was particularly unusual.
“In a few minutes Mister Briar might come in and say something about a topiary that exploded but I want you to know that’s not my fault it was just we were testing a new spell like you told me to and we thought maybe the topiary was a good target because we just wanted to set it on fire a little and...” Firecracker petered out, her breath exhausted, and she drew in another lungful of air.
“And I think maybe we learned something new which is really good and I think that outweighs any of the possible bad negative stuff that happened so if you see Briar please tell him that it’s okay because bushes grow back and—”
“Firecracker,” Twilight broke in. “Did you apologize to him?”
“Uh…” She paused, rubbing her forelegs together. A faint pile of ash grew beneath her hooves. “No. I mean, not yet.”
“Well, let’s go do that, then.” Twilight Sparkle placed her quill back in its holder and stood. “I’ve found that’s the best place to start.”
* * *
“This is rather impressive, Firecracker,” Twilight said. They had just finished speaking with Briar Patch, the royal gardener, and were now surveying the remains of the topiary garden.
Firecracker had, perhaps, left out some details in her explanation. Such as the fact that an entire row of topiary shapes was now little more than cinders and twisted stumps.
Firecracker’s face lit up like the sun. “Really?”
“Yes. But you’re still grounded.”
“Oh.” Like a switch had been thrown, she slumped.
Twilight chuckled and stepped over to one of the few surviving topiaries. It was trimmed in the shape of a pegasus, her wings outstretched and her hooves held out before her. At its base was a tiny marble plaque inscribed with the word “Loyalty.”
She must have spent a while staring at the topiary, for she didn’t notice Firecracker sitting by her side. The filly bit her lip as she read the plaque, and then glanced down the line, where five other plaques sat beneath smouldering remains.
“These were, ah…”
Twilight nodded. “Old friends. I loved them very much.”
Firecracker swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
“They’re just bushes, Firecracker. We’ll grow some new ones.”
“Not that. That you, uh, you know.”
“That I outlived them? That all my friends grew old and died, while I endured?” She kept a small smile on her face as Firecracker looked up in shock.
“Uh… yeah?”
Twilight settled down, folding her legs beneath her. She held a wing up, and Firecracker snuggled beneath it. “They were wonderful ponies and lived full lives. They had nothing to regret, and I was happy to have known them. And when they passed, I found other ponies were there to let into my heart.” She leaned down to lick Firecracker’s unruly forelock, managing to smooth it back down.
“I’ve learned a lot in my life, my faithful student,” she continued. “But one thing I keep relearning. Time heals all wounds, and so do friends. Now, would you like some ice cream?”
The sky outside her window was still black as tar, with not even a hint of dawn on the horizon. The window panes rattled as the wind picked up, and she noted, absently, that half the stars in the sky were gone, and the rest slowly vanished as a high layer of clouds blew in to occlude them. In time, even the stars’ faint light faded, and the room she shared with her brother disappeared from her sight. Only the occasional flash of lightning evidenced that anything outside her mind existed at all.
That, and the scent of her brother. She turned and burrowed into his side, her eyes scrunched shut, and tried to hold back the sobs that shook her tiny body.
He woke – or, more likely, had always been awake – and rested a hoof on her shoulder. “It’s okay, AJ. Try to get some sleep.”
“I dreamed, I dreamed…” She hiccuped. “I had a dream. I had a dream that they came home.”
“It’s okay. Take some deep breaths. It’ll be alright.”
Liar. But she pressed her face against his side, and did what he said all the same.
* * *
When Applejack woke again, it was morning. The sky was sick with low, dark clouds, and rain beat against the glass. She blinked her gummy eyes, surprised she’d slept at all, and only belatedly realized she was alone.
Nopony would blame her if she stayed in bed, she knew. In fact, it would probably make it easier for everypony else. One less foal to deal with on a terrible day.
But another part of her, a small little kernel that already realized the farm needed a strong mare, urged her to get up. She rubbed her eyes and toppled out of her brother’s high bed, then stepped out into the hall. Somewhere on the floor below, a foal was wailing, and she heard her brother’s deep voice trying to calm it.
Sure enough, he was seated by the fireplace, gently bouncing a newly diapered Apple Bloom on his knee. He looked weary and impossibly old for such a gangly young teenager.
He also didn’t look like he’d eaten or bathed yet. Applejack trotted over and carefully took Apple Bloom from him. The foal calmed down almost immediately, and gazed up at her sister while suckling on her hoof.
“I got her. Go get some food.”
He nodded wordlessly and vanished into the kitchen. Applejack let out a breath and looked down at her new charge.
“I need you to be a good filly today, okay?” she said to her sister. “We all need to help each other. We’re gonna be fine.”
Big Macintosh returned a few minutes later bearing two bowls of porridge with sliced apples. It wasn’t her favorite breakfast, but her brother was never the best of cooks, and she knew better than to complain. Instead she took it with a smile and dug in. He did the same, and soon both their bowls were empty.
“Where’s Granny?”
“She’s in town,” her brother said. “She had to arrange some… stuff. Had to send a bunch of telegrams, too. Aunt and Uncle Orange should be here tonight.”
“Okay.” Applejack glanced around the living room, realizing for the first time how large it was. The whole house, in fact, was enormous by Ponyville standards, larger than the houses of the richest ponies she knew, though perhaps a bit more worn and ramshackle.
And now it felt even larger.
“What are… what are we gonna do, Mac?”
“We’re gonna do what we always do, I guess. We’ll be fine.”
Applejack looked down at her hooves. Apple Bloom was curled between them, fast asleep.
“I can’t,” she mumbled. “I’m not strong enough.”
Silence answered her. She looked up to see Big Macintosh staring down at Apple Bloom as well.
“Mac? I said I’m not strong enough.”
“I know. Neither am I.”
Applejack blinked. Of all the terms she’d ever thought to describe her brother with, ‘not strong’ never came close. He was already the size of most adult stallions and still growing.
“Huh? But...”
“I ain’t strong enough, sis. Neither are you, or Granny, or anypony. But maybe, together, we are. That’s what family is for.”
“Oh.” She swallowed soundlessly. “Big Mac?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks. For everything.”
“‘Course.” He ruffled her mane with his hoof. “S’what family’s for.”
“Well, good afternoon Miss Rarity,” Nurse Redheart said, looking up from her clipboard as she walked into the partitioned room. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you back here already.”
Rarity raised an eyebrow. “It’s been two months. That’s more than enough time, I thought.”
“It is, but after last time…” Nurse Redheart trailed off with a shrug and set the clipboard down on the metal cart that followed behind her. She began unsealing the various instruments on it from their plastic covers, and gave the room’s other occupant a smile. “And hello to you too, Fluttershy. Are you donating as well?”
Fluttershy quickly shook her head, scattering pink ribbons of mane all around her shoulders. “Oh no. I just came to make sure Rarity would be okay.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you.” Redheart stepped over to the gurney where Rarity was resting on her belly, her left foreleg already held out in offering. She turned it to expose the bend in Rarity’s knee and felt along the inside of the joint with the tip of her hoof.
It wasn't tender there anymore, but the light pressure was enough to remind Rarity of her last adventure in the clinic. She swallowed soundlessly and tried to ignore the cold sweat breaking out beneath her coat.
It’s easy. You don’t even have to do anything but sit here. She focused on her breathing – deep in, hold, slow out – and watched in silent fascination as Nurse Redheart began scraping the edge of a safety razor against a small patch of her coat, slowly exposing the bare pink skin beneath. Nurse Redheart knew Rarity well enough, it seemed, to keep the shaving to a minimum.
“Need anything? Juice?” Redheart asked. She dropped the used razor in a plastic bin and set out the rest of the materials for the procedure: an empty bag, several feet of clear tubing, a wide elastic band that Rarity knew would pinch when Redheart wrapped it around her leg, a roll of tape, a bottle of iodine, and of course the most dreaded item of all, a short, thick plastic plug. Hiding inside was the beveled needle that would soon be sliding through her skin like it was the softest of silk.
Rarity loved needles, normally. They were the essential tool of her trade, and she could manipulate one better than a surgeon. But this needle was not one of the slender, elegantly eyeletted slivers of metal she was so used to. No, this was a monster, a fang, beveled and hollow and hot. For some reason it felt hot when it went in, which made no sense because metal was cold. But blood was hot; dear Celestia was it her blood she felt last time—
“Rarity?” Fluttershy’s voice broke through the tumble of thoughts ransacking Rarity’s mind.
Rarity turned to see Fluttershy’s face just inches away. She had moved to sit next to her, and draped a wing over her back. It felt warm and soft, and it banished the cold, sweaty chill that threatened to set Rarity shivering.
“Do you still want to do this?” Fluttershy whispered.
Rarity could smell the iodine now, and a moment later felt the rough touch of linen against her bare skin as Nurse Redheart rubbed it on her leg. It trickled into her coat, and she suppressed a wince.
“Of course, darling. I’m absolutely fine.” She smiled for her friend. “You know, the iodine is the worst part. It’s just impossible to get out of my coat, and I’ll have a brown stain on my leg for days.”
“Better than an infection, though!” Nurse Redheart said. She sounded rather chipper about the prospect.
“This is so brave of you,” Fluttershy said. “I don’t think I could ever do this. Especially after last time!”
“Yes, well, we don’t need to talk about last time, do we?” Rarity twitched and forced her leg to stay motionless as Nurse Redheart wrapped the elastic band around it, just beneath her shoulder. It was tight and pinched at her coat, and already she could feel her leg begin to pulse in time with her heartbeat. Blood flowed into the limb, but it couldn't get out.
Nurse Redheart felt Rarity’s skin with the tip of her hoof. “There we go, a nice big vein. Okay, remember, if you feel like you’re going to pass out, say something this time.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Rarity felt like she should have a pithier response, but her full attention was on the needle held in the crook of Redheart’s hoof. It was larger than she remembered, more like a shiv than a pin, a sadist’s version of a soda straw. Dear Celestia, did I say the iodine was the worst part? What was I thinking?
“Okay, this might pinch a little.”
Pinch? A little? Redheart was lying, surely. Rarity opened her dry mouth, ready to call the whole thing off, when Fluttershy’s voice sounded again. It was soft and muffled, as though Rarity’s ears were stuffed with cotton.
She turned. “I’m sorry?”
Fluttershy smiled. “I said it’s okay. I’m here.”
“I know. Thank you.” She let out a long breath before speaking again. “Ow.”
“I think, deep down, we all knew that baking muffins with Mentos and Coca-Cola was a mistake. But just because something seemed dangerous, or foolhardy, was never enough to stop Pinkie Pie. Even when we all warned her, and got that certified letter from the International Association of Pony Chemists, and a court order prohibiting her from experimenting with unstable forms of pastries, we knew that she could never stop. It was why we loved her. And feared her, but mostly loved her.”
Twilight Sparkle paused in her eulogy to clear her throat. They had all wept enough over the past few days, and today was supposed to be about remembering their friend. She took a deep breath and straightened her notecards.
“There is a hole in all our hearts, now. A Pinkie Pie-shaped hole. But friends, recall who she was and what she represented – she would not want us to mourn her passing. She would want us to remember her life, and laugh at the joy she gave us. That is the best way to celebrate our friend.”
A faint smattering of applause accompanied Twilight Sparkle as she returned to her seat. Rarity gave her a smile and a gentle nuzzle, and together they turned back to the podium, where Mayor Mare was preparing to speak.
It was a beautiful day for a memorial service, Twilight thought. Of course, the town’s pegasi had made sure the sun was shining and a warm southern breeze tickled their coats. The entire town had turned out to bid Pinkie Pie farewell, and it warmed Twilight’s heart to see such an outpouring of love for her friend.
“Good afternoon, friends,” Mayor Mare began. As she spoke, she opened a small envelope and pulled out a single folded page. “And thank you Twilight Sparkle for that moving testimonial. Before we close today, I have a letter written by Pinkie Pie that she asked to be read in the event she did not survive her injuries.”
A wave of murmurs flowed through the crowd. Ponies leaned forward, their ears perked up. Even Twilight Sparkle was not immune, though she knew of the letter’s existence while planning the ceremony.
Mayor Mare unfolded the letter and cleared her throat. “Hello everypony. Thank you all for coming to my funeral. I promise this letter will be short and to the point.”
Faint laughter echoed from the crowd, and Mayor Mare smiled before continuing. “By now, some of you may have noticed that… uh…” She paused, her eyes scanning across the letter. “Er, some of you may have noticed that a fast-acting glue was applied to your seats. Pause to let this sink in.”
There was, indeed, a pause. There was also a louder wave of grumbles as ponies attempted to stand, and either failed to do so, or simply brought the seats with them.
“Huh.” Mayor Mare blinked a few times. “Ponies, please calm down. This is just a final prank, I’m sure. Now, ah… Okay. Pause to let this sink in… Aha. I’m sorry for any discomfort this may cause, the glue will dissolve with acetone or hoof polish remover. Many of you may also be wondering why I requested the memorial service to be held right next to the Lotus Luxury Spa. Pause again.”
As one, the crowd turned to the adjacent spa, then back to the lectern. Mayor Mare frowned at the letter, but continued.
“Finally, some of you may be wondering where Rainbow Dash is. If you look behind you, you’ll see she is on top of the spa.”
Ponies turned, and indeed, there was Rainbow Dash, standing next to the huge water cisterns atop the spa. She waved, and a few ponies waved back.
“And, uh…” The mayor frowned. “Last night, Rainbow Dash added several hundred gallons of pink dye to those water towers. When the mayor finishes reading this letter, she will…”
The memorial service mostly ended at that point, as several ponies attempted to escape with chairs still glued to their butts. Few made it very far, and in any case, the tipped-over cisterns held more than enough dyed water to wash down the street, flooding everything in sight and painting the town, the road, the buildings, and of course the ponies themselves a shocking, fluorescent pink.
Rainbow Dash lifted a feather from the bench and held it before her eyes.
The shaft was hollow steel, reinforced inside with a carbon-composite honeycomb lattice whose cells were barely wider than a hair. The vane was not a mesh of fibers, like a natural feather, but rather an overlapping series of crystal scales grown in a laboratory and sharpened to an edge only a few atoms thick. The artificial sapphire glimmered in the naked barracks lights, and she observed her reflection staring back at her from within.
Its color didn't match her coat perfectly. It was a shade too light, and if she turned it over, she could have read the tiny letters stamped at the base of the shaft indicating that it was designed for a stallion. Fortunately her wings were large for a mare's, and the difference in size was negligible.
Satisfied, she carefully slotted the feather into her primaries. She could slash with it, or in a pinch fling it like a dart with a flick of her wings. It wouldn’t penetrate the rolled tungsten armor the gryphons used to cover their breasts and crowns, but there were always weak points – eyes, necks, shoulders – and her aim was the best.
Rainbow Dash lifted another feather from the bench and held it before her eyes.
* * *
“...and teams seven through twelve will be responsible for securing the western air corridors.” Spitfire paused to highlight the relevant portion of the map with a laser pointer. “Intelligence doesn’t show any large gryphon formations in that area today, so the most we’re looking at is scouts or possibly some skirmishers. Dash, you’ve got the lead for those elements.”
“Got it,” Dash replied. She had already folded her copy of the map and stuffed it in a special flat pocket alongside her barrel, where she could reach it in flight.
“Great. Questions?” Spitfire waited, and when no one replied, stepped in front of the display board. “Nothing heard. Dismissed.”
Everypony jumped to their hooves, stood at attention, then relaxed and began filing out the back. Conversation resumed as ponies discussed their assignments, and Rainbow Dash gathered the last of her briefing materials.
“Hey, Dash,” Spitfire’s voice came from few feet away, and Rainbow looked up to see the commander standing in front of her. “You’ve got a visitor in the break room.”
“Really? Now?” The minutes before a combat sortie were busy enough without somepony else stealing her time.
“It’s important.” Spitfire glanced away. “Just go see her.”
Rainbow Dash frowned, but Spitfire didn’t seem inclined to continue. She shrugged and went to find her new friend.
* * *
A purple unicorn with a large set of wings was in the breakroom, inspecting a recruitment poster on the wall, when Dash opened the doors. She turned, and they both froze.
Dash recovered first. “Princess.”
Twilight Sparkle stared at her for a long moment, her mouth held open. She blinked a few times before speaking. “Rainbow! Wow, you look really… really different in all that.”
For the first time in years, Rainbow Dash wondered what their other friends would think of her armor. Rarity would probably hate it. She shook her head at the thought. “Yeah, keeps us alive, though. What brings you here? Should you even be this close to the front?”
“I’m meeting with General Masterstroke this afternoon, but I wanted to…” Twilight paused and licked her lips. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”
“I’m fine.”
“Good. That’s good.” Twilight glanced down at her hooves, then back at Rainbow. “I, uh, also wanted to say how sorry… Are you sure you’re fine?”
Rainbow Dash suppressed a sigh. This conversation again; she'd been through it a hundred times in the past week. “Yeah, that’s what I said.”
“I know, but, I know how close you two were, and—”
“And he’s gone, and I miss him,” Rainbow trampled over Twilight. “But he died doing his duty, and that matters more my feelings or what either of us wanted. So I’m fine, and if you’ll excuse me, I have a mission to prep for.”
She was halfway out the door when Twilight’s hoof touched her shoulder. She paused and turned to see her friend’s trembling expression just a wing’s breadth away.
“Dash, you can’t mean that.”
Rainbow whirled on her. “I do. I mean it more than anything I have ever said. I’m not just fine, I’m… I’m happy. I’m happy for him, Twilight.” She was panting, she realized. Almost out of breath, but still she continued.
“I’m happy! He did his duty, and I am doing mine, and I am happy! I have never been so happy!” She clenched her eyes shut, trying to stop the hot well of tears threatening to betray her. “I am fine, and this is the happiest... the happiest day of my life!”
So saying, shouting, she turned back to her duty, and let it salve her heart.
Fluttershy woke in a bed that was more crowded than usual.
This was not unprecedented – sometimes her animal friends had trouble sleeping alone in strange new settings, which her cottage undoubtedly was for wild animals. They were not used to thick walls or glass windows or the strange scents in her larder, and to be fair the smaller animals sometimes felt uneasy around the large predators she hosted from time to time. It never seemed to matter how much she promised the orphan fawns or field mice that the timberwolf in her living room was actually a considerate vegetarian, they were nervous all the same.
So, sometimes they slept in her bed and snuggled under her wings for protection. It was, she sometimes imagined, what it felt like to have a foal.
But this morning was different. The heavy form weighing down her mattress, causing her to sink toward the center, was not one of her animal friends, and he wouldn’t have fit beneath both of her wings. He lay on his back, mouth open, and if she listened carefully she could hear faint snores in time with his breath.
It was adorable, but it was also time for her to get up. She pressed her nose against the side of his neck and gave him a little push.
“Wake up,” she whispered.
He grumbled something that sounded like a complaint, but his bright blue eyes opened, squinting against the sunlight streaming through the window before turning to her. A smile split his features. “Hey.”
“Good morning. How do you feel?”
“Better, I think.” Lightning Bug rolled away and set his hooves on the floor. He winced as each one made contact, and when he tried to stand, his whole body froze for just an instant. His eyes widened, and Fluttershy heard a tiny gasp of indrawn breath. He moved like a pony fifty years his senior, each step hesitant and pained, his whole body trembling as he turned in a slow circle.
Fluttershy let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. To see him standing on his own, actually walking under his own power, was remarkable. Just a few days earlier, when she found him on her lawn, he’d barely been able to crawl.
“That’s good,” she said. She floated over to his side and let him lean against her, and together they made their way downstairs to begin the day.
* * *
“There you go, Aubrey,” Fluttershy said, tying a knot on the river otter’s splint. “It’s just a small break, but no swimming for a while, okay?”
Aubrey chittered at her, then nibbled on the gauze bandage entombing its left leg until Fluttershy gave her a sharp look. Chastened, it waddled back to the edge of the pond, where the other otters were splashing playfully. It paused at the water’s edge, then settled down in a fuzzy lump.
“She doesn’t look too happy,” Lightning Bug said. He sat beside Fluttershy, a small basket filled with bandages and other medical supplies held in his hooves.
“I know, but it’s for her own good. In a few weeks she’ll be fine.”
Lightning Bug nodded. “So, who’s next?”
“Bandit, if we can find him.” Fluttershy turned in a small circle, searching for the sick raccoon who’d been hiding in her garden for the past week. He didn’t like taking medicine. “Oh, I hope I don’t have to trap him again.”
Lightning Bug grunted in response. Fluttershy turned to see him staring down the path leading to town. She followed his gaze and caught a rainbow-colored flash vanishing behind a bush.
They were quiet for a while. Eventually, Lightning Bug broke the silence. “Your friends still don’t seem very happy with me.”
“Well, they’re very…” Fluttershy paused, a small frown on her lips. “Protective of me. Sometimes they don’t think I can make my own decisions.”
“Could be worse. At least they’re not attacking me any more. Or calling the guard.”
“They won’t. I spoke with them about it. Now, will you be alright if I run into town?”
His eyes flicked down the path. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
“Good.” She leaned over to place a light kiss on the corner of his mouth. He jerked at the contact, but when she pulled away he sat straighter, and the faint shake in his limbs was gone.
“You’re too kind, you know.” Still, he kissed her back, and that was enough.
* * *
Rainbow Dash was waiting for her at the end of the path, as Fluttershy expected. Her face was marred by a scowl.
“I saw that. You kissed him.”
“That’s what ponies do when they’re in love, Rainbow.”
Something dark crossed Rainbow’s face. “Don’t call it that. It’s not love.”
“It must be. He’s feeling much better.”
Rainbow winced. “That’s… Don’t say that. It’s sick.”
“He can’t help it. What should I have done? Let him die?”
Rainbow didn’t answer, but her expression left little to the imagination. “And when he’s better?”
“He’ll go back to his hive, I suppose.”
“And what about you?”
Fluttershy paused as she stepped past her friend. She placed a light kiss on Dash’s cheek, and whispered in her ear. “I’ll live.”
