Chapter 1
Stupid Ponies.
This was Gilda’s only thought as she sat on her porch underneath the night’s sky. It was cold outside, the air sending a chill through her feathers as a calm breeze blew past. The bottle in her hand was cool as well, and she felt the iciness of the liquid inside as she placed the tip at her mouth and swallowed a drought of its contents.
The drink burned her throat as it went down, and she coughed in response to the ice-cold fire making its way into her stomach. Though the taste was painful, it brought a tang of numbness to Gilda’s mouth, and right now feeling the burning on her beak was better than the alternative. With that thought in mind, Gilda swallowed another large gulp of the alcohol, tears welling at the corner of her eyes, joining the few that had been there moments ago.
Gilda could hear the sounds of Ponyville carrying through the air towards her home in the nearby cliffs. The town was only this loud on the evenings of important events or celebrations, as well as the occasional extra-effort gathering from the town’s resident party pony, Pinkie Pie.
Pinkie Pie. Gilda spit from the corner of her mouth onto the wooden floor of her porch as she thought the name of that air-headed pink moron. If she never saw that stupid googly-eyed bouncing ditz for the rest of her life it would too soon.
Gilda swore to herself and swallowed another swig of whiskey. It still burned, but she was beyond caring. Besides which, the drink made her feel warm inside, a contrast to the icy night air that was swirling about her home in the occasional wayward gust.
She needed to fly.
The air swirled around her as she took off, launching herself from the wooden balcony upwards, her hind legs kicking off as hard as they could muster. Her talons made a faint scratching sound as she pushed into the air, before flapping her wings heavily once, twice, the third flap sending her barrelling forwards into the sky. The wind felt cold running through her feathers as she soared off with no destination in mind, but it was a refreshing coolness, one that reminded her she was alive. The powerful jet-stream created by her flight dried her eyes as she went onwards, setting her sights on a nearby mountain peak. Nearby was something of a subjective term – to someone slower, it would have taken quite a while to reach; Gilda made in there in less than a minute.
Her talons crunched as she impacted the gravely surface of the stone formation, jagged pieces of rock prodding her as she hit them. Her landing had not slowed in the least until the point of collision, and she felt the mild stinging sensation run upwards through her body as the pieces of shale and granite dug into her claws. It may have hurt, but it was, for now, a distraction.
More, she thought to herself.
The impulse that drove her onward was wrought from frustration - she needed to lash out, to tear something apart and vent the anger that had been boiling up inside of her for hours. Though living on the cusp of isolation meant not having to worry about neighbouring property damage, for some reason Gilda felt a need to taste the sensation of her own ire. Letting out her rage on the world around her wasn’t enough - she needed to feel the results.
The wind whistled in her ears as she took off again, soaring higher than before this time, high enough that she felt she could almost touch the stars, or swipe away a piece of the moon; she paused for a moment at the apex of her ascent, scanning around for a suitable target. There in the distance, she spotted it: a sheer cliff face, sturdy and grey, standing imposingly a mile away, the ledge of a great hill or mountain that could have taken days to surmount on foot. Luckily, Gilda did nothing on foot. Narrowing her eyes to slits, she took off at a blinding speed, almost leaving a vapour trail from the blaze of her departure. The cliff had seemed forever away moments ago, but it was approaching rapidly; Gilda found herself at the slowing point sooner than she had expected.
Partially to her own surprise, she made no attempt to decrease her speed.
Her body collided with the stone wall resoundingly, sending pieces of rock flying outward in all direction. She felt the breath leave her lungs as she smashed into the immovable stone barrier, her body screaming at her as the pain burned in her chest, coursing throughout her limbs, blurring her vision. Still, it didn’t feel like enough.
Even as she drifted downwards, unable to keep herself properly aloft while wheezing for air, she swiped haphazardly at the rock. Her talons shrieked into the silence of the night as they scraped the solid surface, the pointed tips digging into the stone and drawing forth a noise like nails on a chalkboard. With each blow, she cringed and tensed her muscles at the unpleasant sensation, but continued to swing her arms. Over and over, faster and faster she scraped at the cliff-face, digging away whole chunks with the force of her blows, until her gradual descent landed her on a plateau perpendicular to the mountain she had been assaulting.
Panting with exertion, she lowered her head to her chest. The reality of the pain began to seep through her body as she collected herself; even dulled by the whiskey, she could feel the burning all over.
And yet, something else still hurt more.
Gilda smashed her claw into the ground repeatedly as kneeled on the stone plateau, entirely irreverent to her appendage’s already damaged state – her hands were bloody from their earlier lashing, and her chest was ruffled and scratched, feathers torn about from her impact. Eventually, the surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins tapered. Minutes passed as she lay there, quiet, letting the howl of the wind in her ear be the only sound. Her feathers were matted with perspiration. Idly, she picked at a clump of with her talon, tearing a wayward piece out, flinching slightly at the sting.
I suppose I should go back home, she thought to herself. I’m not going to find any answers out here.
Her takeoff was more timid this time, sensitive to her injured state, and she took longer to return to the landing area of her wooden porch than she had to leave it. Dust rose as she flapped her wings to settle softly on the balcony. Luckily, her re-arrival had not upset the drink she left behind, and she reached for it immediately, the bottle clinking against her talon as she grasped it.
Stupid ponies.
That thought, ever present. It was the only thing on her mind. Ever since she had left that two-bit town of idiotic equines, it was the only thing that had consumed her completely. Well, that and one other thing...
The next swallow of whiskey burned as much as the first had, scalding her mouth with its heat and warming her throat the whole way down. This was to blot out the other nagging thought that had followed her the whole way home. The one she wished most sincerely she could cast away. The image that flashed into her head every time her thoughts slipped away from concentration on her anger. A rainbow mane, and bright blue feathers...
Gilda found herself with her beak hanging open as she shook the last drops from the bottom of the bottle. Apparently one wouldn’t be enough to wash this away.
Damn it.
Without thinking, she threw the bottle across her porch, aiming for the hand-rail at the opposite end. Even in her drunken haze, her aim was true – the glass shattered as it collided with the sturdy wood, sending green shards everywhere with a resounding crash. One of the pieces flew backwards to the source of its delivery, and Gilda felt the tiny shard’s sting as it landed in the very hand that had thrown it.
“Ah!” Shouting aloud the only response she could think of, Gilda reflexively drew her hand back, even though the source of the injury had long excised any more possible damage it could hope to cause. She inspected her claw carefully – it seemed that rather than embedding itself in the toughened skin, the piece of glass had merely nicked her as it went by. Sighing in relief, she raised a finger of her claw to her mouth, and began to suck on the open wound to ease the pain. She had just begun when she heard the voice behind her.
“Gilda?”
That voice. There was no way...
The griffon spun around to remove her suspicion, knowing the cracking energetic intonation she had just heard couldn’t be behind her, no matter what her ears told her. The rainbow bright mane that greeted her eyes proved her wrong.
“...Dash?”
The moment the name left her mouth, Gilda felt the heat inside her chest well up. Her eyes dampened instantly, betraying the only thought echoing through her mind over and over again: be cool be cool be cool be cool...
Before the pegasus floating behind her porch could answer, Gilda turned her head sideways cockishly, shifting her voice down to its usual level of swagger.
“I mean, uh... sup.” The awkward sentence and shaky tone gave her away, but she wasn’t about to admit it.
She was finding it hard to concentrate on keeping cool. Every part of her body suddenly felt the ache of her earlier collisions and scuffles with the cliff-side, and for some reason just thinking that name... made her feel weak. Like her knees would give out of their own accord at any moment. Though, that might be the influence of the whiskey...
“Uh, hey. Listen...”
Gilda turned her head completely to avoid looking her... former friend in the eye. While she might have otherwise found herself in the grasp of oncoming tears, she was surprised to find the only emotion welling at the forefront of her mind was anger. She had considered an apology, some lengthy dialogue to let her ‘feeling’s come through... but now that she found herself here, in the moment, standing next to the ‘friend’ who had let her down - she felt nothing but bitterness. Dash didn’t deserve the time of day, let alone an apology.
“I don’t know what you came here for, but I’m not in the mood for talking.” Gilda’s tone was abrupt and abrasive as she responded, cutting off Rainbow Dash mid-sentence. As if to belie the finality of her statement, she began to walk towards her house door, attempting to end the dialogue before it started.
“Gilda...” Rainbow Dash’s tone was plying. She knew the griffon well; her voice had always been able to bring Gilda around from her usual ire. She was trying hard, just with a single word, and Gilda was still struggling to turn her back completely, and walk away from the pegasus she had called a friend only earlier that day.
“I said, I’m not in the mood for talking.” Gilda’s voice was biting, ending the exchange with the ferocity of her words. She tossed the door backwards behind her as she walked inside, throwing it closed with unnecessary force that mimicked her own harshness.
The wood thumped as it collided with Rainbow Dash’s blue hoof.
Damn it.
“G, listen... I know you’re still probably upset about what happened earlier...”
As she responded, Gilda’s voice was thick with emotion, straining to keep away the part inside her screaming to be let out, to spill out all the feelings that had welled up inside her since earlier: since the party.
“You’re damn right I’m upset!” She had turned finally to face the pegasus, not caring anymore to hold back her frustration.. She couldn’t restrain herself any longer; this needed to be said.
“Gilda...”
“Is that call you can say?” Gilda threw the door open, smashing it forcefully into the wall. The shelves rattled inside the house from the force of the impact. Rainbow’s eyes widened at the griffon’s display of anger, and she timidly backed up onto the porch as Gilda stepped closer to her.
“We were supposed to be friends, Dash!” The words were coming now, and Gilda was powerless to stop them. It was like opening a floodgate, letting all the thoughts and emotions, sadness and anger come pouring through, and nothing could dam them until they had been let out.
Dash didn’t attempt to respond, only turning her head awkwardly to stare intently at the wooden floor of the porch. She fixated her gaze on the shards of broken green glass that lay in a haphazard pile next to the balcony hand-rest.
“We were supposed to be friends, and you... you brought me into a town full of dweebs and lame-oh’s and turned your back on me!”
That sentence brought Dash to attention, and she looked back up at the griffon before giving her rebuttal.
“Turned my back on you? You’re the one who made a fool out of yourself! Getting all upset over some stupid pranks, and freaking out at my friends...”
Gilda’s eyes narrowed as she spat back her response.
“Well I guess you showed who your real friends are.”
“And I guess you showed that I can’t count on someone who I thought was my oldest friend not to be a complete jerk for no good reason!”
There were no words left. Gilda’s capacity to speak had been overtaken by frustration, and she could only let loose a furious scream as she pounded her injured claw into the walls of her wooden home. The violent display prompted Rainbow Dash to jump backwards more than a foot; though she wasn’t sure what lengths Gilda’s anger might take her too, being out of the range of a furious griffon was usually a good idea. The final words of the conversation followed the outburst, biting colder than the icy air outside.
“That’s enough! Why don’t you get lost, dweeb?”
Gilda took this opportunity to slam the door in her visitor’s face, again sending the various knick-knacks ratting on their shelves. Dash, standing outside on the porch, could hear the series of shouts and poundings on the wall as they moved away from the doorway backwards into the house. Given the already unsteady looking nature of the tiny shack that Gilda called her home, Rainbow wondered if each blow of rage might come close to knocking apart one of the walls, sending the house tumbling in on itself.
Dash waited some time until the anguished roars and crashing of furniture had subsided before approaching the door. Timidly, she nudged it forward with one hoof, peering inside to survey the immediate damage. It was about as bad as she had suspected; just past the entryway hall she saw the living room in a state of complete disarray, various collectibles and photos scattered on the floor, presumably torn from their usual place on the shelving. The lone recliner had been tipped onto its side, and a large chunk had been torn from the bottom, exposing the fluffy innards, pieces of which had been scattered about the floor.
Cautiously, the blue pegasus walked inside, her hooves making soft clunks as they impacted the hollow sounding wooden floor. It seemed the entire house had been put together by someone with a very simplistic approach to construction; flat wood panelling for everything, no exceptions. It reminded her of the tree-house she had played in during her youth, the one she had shared with a certain sarcastic griffon…
Rainbow Dash followed the trail of destruction through the house, past the torn-apart living room and down another plain wooden hallway. On her right side, claw marks an inch deep stretched towards the hall’s end, leading to an open door – judging by the dent mark in the wall opposite, it had been throw ajar in much the same manner that everything else in the home had been treated. The noise of her hoof-steps was still muffled, now being washed over by the punctuated sobbing emanating from the bedroom door.
She was still nervous. She knew she had come here to talk this out, in hopes of some kind of reparation or restoration of her former friendship. Unfortunately, Gilda seemed unwilling to discuss the matter. But she couldn’t leave now, not after coming all this way. A part of her had nagged in the back of her mind since the party, riddling her with guilt for so casually abandoning her oldest friend. Even though it might have been the right thing to do… Dash felt she had to try something. Anything that might make even the smallest amends to repair her broken friendship with the griffons he had shared so many days with in her youth.
But what could she say?
Shaking slightly with trepidation, Rainbow Dash nudged the bedroom door open.
It seemed this room had received the worst end of Gilda’s fury. The walls were shredded with claw marks, and as Dash timidly tip-toed inside, she paused as a soft sound crunched under her hoof. Raising her leg slightly, she noticed the many glimmering shards that littered the floor – an empty mirror frame on a nearby dressed told her the source of the shattered fragments. The entire bedroom was a disaster; and there, at the center of the self-inflicted chaos, was the griffon responsible, curled into a ball with her head buried in her pillow. Gilda was in the middle of her large circular bed, the blankets tossed haphazardly around her, another vestige of her frustration.
There was reason to be nervous. Normally, Rainbow Dash never would have suspected her oldest friend capable of something unnecessarily violent, even in her most intense anger. Unfortunately, the torn apart dwelling she made her way through moments ago told her that her supposition might not be one hundred percent accurate. If she said the wrong thing... was there a chance that anger would turn itself on her? She had to choose her words carefully.
And still, she didn’t know where to begin. How could she put into words the emotions that had brought her here in the first place? She had kept her planning from her friends, knowing they wouldn’t understand. Given Gilda’s display at her own party, Rainbow Dash could hardly blame them... but something called to her, nagged at the back of her head, urging her to try for what might be the last time to make amends with the griffon she had shared so many days with at her home away from home in junior flight camp. The two had fought before, said words better left unsaid, and parted ways for a short time... but reparations were always made soon after, apologies from both parties and things would go back to normal.
This time seemed very different. For once, she hadn’t been the one on the wrong end of Gilda’s cruel words and ill-temper. Dash could make reasons for scathing insults and fits of rudeness when they were directed at her; she had a thick skin, and knew Gilda would never mean what she said for long. But when it a tirade of baseless fury and abuse pointed squarely at someone else she cared about... she could make no excuses.
And here she was, standing feet away from the griffon, unable to find the words she had come so far to say.
So she stood, hooves crunching the pieces of broken mirror softly underhoof, the only sound in the room. It reminded her of a difference scene, from long ago...
Junior Speedsters had been a trial from day one. Gruelling exercises, early morning flight regiments, rigid activity structures and an atmosphere that felt more like a royal guard training course than a sleep-away camp for young fliers eager to make their names known in the world of competitive aerial acrobatics. But of course, that was the reasoning behind the intensive structure; weaker pegasus and those not fit for a lifetime of fast-paced, death-defying mid-air maneuvering were left behind, or brought up to speed with their peers, until the only graduates were well-honed flying machines.
It was hard at first, for Dash, to get used to the way things at Junior Speedsters were run. She had never been a particularly well-motivated student – things either came naturally to her, or she deemed them not worth her time. More often than not her innate speed and flying ability were more than enough to get her through any trial earlier flight schools had put her through, most often without breaking a sweat. For once in her life, effort was necessary, and she wasn’t sure she liked it.
She had adapted though. The reason for attending the Junior Speedsters training initiative was to prove she was better than the rest; to show that she would one day be worthy of the adoration of ponies all across Equestria as she flew alongside her heroes, The Wonderbolts. And so, for the first time in her life, she had tried. That effort had been met with even more demanding requirements – work harder, do better, be faster. So she had done so. Most days were a blur of muscle-strain and sore wings, and the mandated lights out time quickly became less of a complaint, and more a welcome chance to finally rest her aching body in preparation for another day of unending trials and exercises.
Things had been tough, but she had persevered, and quickly took her spot at the top of her class. Other ponies had looked up to her in adoration; and though she appreciated their admiration, her mind was often focused simply on each day’s goal of self-improvement. Rainbow Dash had never been antisocial, but pushing herself further on a daily basis left little room for fraternization. In fact, she had barely spoken to her fellow camp-goers until half-way through the program; one in particular on that day she still remembered vividly...
Taking a break after a particularly rigorous speed trial, sweat pouring off her brow and her wings sore from exertion, Rainbow Dash had made her way back to her cabin to find a strange sound emanating from the windows to just outside the cloud lodging she spent each night in. At first she had assumed it to be one of the other campers she hadn’t bothered to remember the names of – stress levels were high for most pegasus, and it wasn’t unusual for someone to take an hour or two out of the program abruptly to spend time by themselves, working out their frustrations in the form of tears into a pillow. The voice that accompanied the sound she recognized as crying, however, sounded nothing like any of her bunk-mates. So, with her suspicion aroused, she had poked her head inside at first, before stepping cautiously into the cloud cabin.
That was the first time she had seen a griffon, and the sight alone was enough to startle her. Presence of mind had not been her ally, and she had let out a small gasp at the sight of the brown feathers and clawed talons curled into the blankets of the bunk bed closest to the cabin door. The noise had apparently been enough to draw the attention of the griffon, who had immediately raised her head and turned to look Rainbow Dash right in the eye. The griffon’s eyes were filled with tears which she quickly attempted to wipe away before speaking.
“What do you want?” had been the question, the scathing voice dampened by the attempts to stem the flow of tears that had drawn Rainbow to the cabin in the first place. The situation was awkward – faced with a creature she had never seen before, and one apparently just finishing a bout of sobbing, was enough to empty Dash’s head of appropriate responses. Instead she had mumbled awkwardly before mustering together an attempt at some kind of explanation.
“I, uh... I just thought I heard... sorry. I just... were you crying?”
Normally Dash made an effort to stay out of the business of other ponies at camp, as she would wish of them if she were the one whimpering into her pillow with sadness of frustration. It occurred to her, however, that the strange being in front of her was not a pony, so perhaps an exception to the rule could be made.
“No, I wasn’t crying!” The lie was obvious given the tear marks running down the face covered in white feathers, but Rainbow could tell from the tone of the answer that it might not be wise to argue.
And so the two had both waited quietly for a moment, awkwardness permeating the air as the griffon sniffled softly in an attempt to recompose herself. The waiting went on far longer than was comfortable... to break the tension, Rainbow Dash had decided in her tactless manner to ask the question that had been on her mind since entering the room.
“Uh, sorry... but who, or what, are you?”
“I’m a griffon, you dweeb!” Still the voice was biting, bordering on sarcastic, despite the fact that its owner had been discovered moments ago crying pitifully. Dash had only looked confused at this explanation, prompting a sigh from the other half of the conversation.
“A griffon, you idiot. Half-lion, half eagle? Haven’t you ever seen a griffon before?”
Dash just shook her head, still not sure what to think of the situation.
“No, not really...”
“Well, you’re looking at one now.” The self-proclaimed griffon had stood up from the bed at that moment, brandishing one of her talons in an intimidating fashion. The gleam at the end of her claws drew the focus of Rainbow Dash’s eye as the sun beamed in through the window, illuminating the whole set of pointed digits that made up the set of fearsome claws.
“And my name, is Gilda.” The griffon had sneered further, bringing her claw inward and nonchalantly checking it for blemishes, like a high-class pony might examine his hoof for scuff marks. Dash had pawed at the floor nervously, trying to muster up something to say. Finally, she had settled on a simple introduction.
“Uh... right. Nice to meet you, uh, Gilda. My name’s Rainbow Dash.” She had extended a hoof forward for the customary hoof-shake – or, talon-shake in the case of the griffon – but her offer fell flat as Gilda folded her arms inwards across her chest with a derisive glare.
Several seconds passed before Dash had withdrawn her hoof awkwardly, scratching the back of her head and letting her eyes focus somewhere else in the room rather than meeting the judgemental eyes of the griffon in front of her. For some reason, she felt compelled to continue the conversation. Perhaps because she had stumbled inside in the first place, interrupting a session of sadness she would have otherwise been content to ignore. Now she felt like she owed at least an introduction to the pony – er, griffon – that she had intruded on.
“Sorry for bothering you... I just heard something from the window and I wanted to make sure everything was okay. What were you crying about?”
“I wasn’t crying!” Gilda had practically yelled back her reply, and Rainbow Dash flinched at the display of volume, her eyes scrunching up nervously under the force of the griffon’s bellow.
“I was just upset, a little, is all.”
Ah. Gilda had made a small concession at least. Rainbow figured at this point at this point she should mostly likely take whatever she could get.
“What were you upset about... er, if you don’t mind me asking.” Qualifying her statement felt better than receiving the brunt of another furious shout from the griffon’s powerful set of lungs.
And yet, the reply had been just as hostile as ever.
“None of your business, dweeb!”
Again, Rainbow Dash had recoiled at the outburst, and Gilda took that moment to make her way back to the bunk-bed, throwing herself into the blankets and facing opposite the blue pegasus, towards the wall, resting her head on one of her talons with her elbow pressed into the mattress.
Another awkward silence passed, broken this time by Gilda.
“I spent the whole year convincing my parents to let me come here, and they forgot about the whole thing until the summer started.”
Dash remained silent, suspecting that if she interrupted, the brief window of confession would be shut firmly in her face. Gilda’s eyes were locked to the wall as she spoke, staring off into the distance of her memories as she gave her explanation.
“By the time the details got sorted out, this was the soonest I could get here. But when I showed up…”
Normally a gentle prompting would have been Rainbow’s normal course of action, but in this instance she feared saying something even slightly amiss, lest she miss her chance to gain insight into the life of the hostile griffon she had just met. Instead, she simply waited patiently, counting out the seconds in her head as they passed. At last, Gilda continued.
“When I got here, the whole place was filled with nothing but stupid ponies!”
Dash thought about speaking out at the slight, but opted again to keep her mouth shut.
“No one here’s even heard of a griffon... they all looked at me like I’m some sort of freak.”
Gilda’s voice was beginning to crack again. Though her gaze was locked on the wall opposite from Rainbow Dash, the blue pegasus could tell that the tears were starting again. She had never been one to cry often, but she could feel the thickness of voice that carried the weight of coming sadness.
“I wish I had never come to this stupid place...”
Then the quiet sniffling sound of repressed tears began. Gilda’s unwavering stare was cemented off in the distance, unflinching as she began to cry again. Once more, awkward tension filled the air.
Dash was the one to speak up, in lieu of Gilda’s state. She walked towards the bunk-bed timidly, unsure of how best to begin, but knowing that she must say something. The words were difficult to form properly...
“Hey.”
That was as good a beginning as any.
Gilda continued to sniff intermittently as she fought back the sadness that had plagued her since her arrival.
“What?”
As ever, even amidst her sorrowful repression, Gilda’s voice was sharp and biting, like the pointed ends of beak and talon that made her look so intimidating. But, thought Rainbow Dash, aside those razor-tipped extensions, Gilda’s body was composed entirely of the softness of white and brown feathers. Maybe the same held true for her personality as well.
“You shouldn’t let everyone get to you like that. They’re probably just jealous at how cool you are.”
The obvious flattery elicited an initial sneer from Gilda, but as she gulped back another set of tears, the edges of her mouth crept up slightly in the beginnings of a smile.
“Come on...”
“No, I mean it! I’m a little jealous too – it must be pretty awesome to have such a wicked set of wings, not to mention those talons, and claws; I bet it makes anyone who wants to mess with you change their mind pretty fast!”
Gilda was grinning now, unable to fight the warmth that welled up inside at the first positive thing she had heard in days. Wiping away the remnants of moisture from her eyes, she turned her head to meet the Dash’s cheerful smile behind her. She nodded in affirmation at the pegasus’ speculation.
“Yeah, I guess that’s true. Everyone usually thinks twice before messing with these babies.” With a flourish, Gilda brandished the pointed tips of her talons, the polished razor-sharp points gleaming in the sunlight cast in through the window.
“I bet those wings of yours let you fly pretty fast too.”
Gilda nodded, still grinning.
“Yeah… haven’t met someone yet I can’t out speed.”
Rainbow Dash cocked her head sideways with her eyes half-open smugly.
“Oh? That sounds like a challenge to me.”
The impetuousness of Dash’s instigation seemed to clear the last of the sombre thoughts from Gilda’s mind.
After several more jeers back and forth, light-hearted ribbing prefacing their competition, the two had flown off from the cabin door into the sky, wind trailing behind them in their swiftness as they begun the first in what would become a long series of races, spread out over the course of all those months left at Junior Speedsters Flight Camp.
Where Rainbow Dash had been silent in solitude previous, she found a companion in the would-be outcast named Gilda. The two had bonded, and parted behind masks of aloofness that hid sincere sorrow when camp had ended. Letters were sent back and forth, keeping up in correspondence. The two hadn’t really spent much time together again, until…
Until today. Her visit to Ponyville was the first time the two had seen each other in years… and look how things had ended up.
The weight of it hadn’t really sunken in to Dash’s mind until just minutes ago, and the feeling was staggering. She was standing here, so out of her way to reach out one last time to the friend she had made so many years ago, who had made a fool of herself in front of Dash’s new friends for no good reason… and how was her act of kindness repaid? With scorn, and anger? She had been rebuffed the moment her mouth had opened.
So why, then, was she still here?
Because maybe, some friendships were worth fighting for.
Even if the person on the other end was the friend in question.
And still, the words were hard to find.
One more time.
“Gilda?”
Dash shifted her weight awkwardly to one side, then the other as she waited amidst the sound of sobbing. The shards of glass crunched underneath her hooves as she leaned sideways, hoping her voice was heard.
No response.
“Gilda, please…”
Dash walked quietly closer to the circular bed in the center of the room. She knew that Gilda must have heard her - even in her strongest haze of anger, she had never been completely oblivious to the world around her. So.. maybe Gilda didn’t know what to say either.
“…I know you’re upset.”
Broaching the discussion earlier had met with immediate hostile response, but now, there was only silence, Gilda’s face buried in her pillow. So Rainbow Dash continued.
“Look. I know you said what you did for a reason. I know you probably felt like what you said was right. But to me, and everypony else, it just made you seem like a big jerk.”
That elicited a response. Gilda turned her head sharply, her eyes glinting in the light of the room, along with the stains of tears on her cheeks as she glared scornfully back at the bright blue pegasus speaking to her. She opened her beak to speak, no doubt to spew forth another tirade of anger – but she found herself pausing as Rainbow Dash held a hoof aloft to signal for silence, and continued speaking before Gilda had her chance to talk.
“Listen. Just… let me talk for a second, alright?” Without waiting for approval, Dash continued, collecting the last of her thoughts into words and putting them forward in the hopes that somewhere in the translation, they would begin to make sense.
“Like I was saying… to everyone else, you looked like a colossal jerk… but that’s not who you are. I know that. I know you, from all those months we spent together at Flight Camp, and all those years we kept in touch… you’re not a jerk. You’re just… you.”
Gilda looked stunned, unsure of how to respond. Still, Rainbow Dash continued, not leaving the opportunity open for interruption.
“But being you doesn’t give you a free pass to act the way you did. You insulted my friends. You made a fool out of yourself. And, I think after flying all this way and putting up with what happened today, I deserve some kind of explanation.”
There. She had said it. And now the ball was well and truly in Gilda’s court. Dash just hoped she wouldn’t throw it back in her face…
A minute or two of silence passed, save for an awkward throat-clearing cough from Rainbow Dash as she waited. At last, Gilda spoke. Her voice was unsteady, and unsure, as if it were a struggle to find the right words, or maybe just to speak at all.
“I… I just…”
“What? Just say it!”
“I was afraid, alright?!”
Gilda’s shout rattled the windows, and settled into another uncomfortable pause. Rainbow Dash felt her ears ringing from the volume, along with a hotness welling up in her chest. It hadn’t been the response she expected.
“What do you mean-“
“I mean I was… It just…”
Gilda was struggling to form sentences. Just like that day so many years ago, Dash waited patiently for the words to come, knowing that if she interrupted, she might not get another chance.
“It… it felt like being back at camp, when I was a kid.”
The implications of the statement were overt, but Gilda continued regardless, the floodgate of explanation finally opened.
“Everyone in town… I could feel the way they looked at me. I could hear them whispering behind my back. I know what they were saying… that I’m a freak, some scary looking weirdo… It just made me feel… alone.”
Now Rainbow Dash felt compelled to speak.
“But, Gilda-“
“It didn’t matter, then, because you were there, Dash. But it’s been so long… and you’ve made new friends... I wasn’t sure if I could count on you anymore. And then at the party, I was so sure… Pinkie Pie… It felt just like the all those ponies pointing and laughing, just like I was used to. I couldn’t deal with it. And then you said what you did.”
That was all she could muster. Gilda’s mouth fell silent, letting the uncomfortable aura of quiet wash over the room, griffon and pony waiting without words as the perspectives sunk in.
So now she understood.
Did it make sense? Was any of it an excuse for Gilda’s behaviour? That was debatable, really.
Dash knew that all those years ago, Gilda had felt alone. She had known about the jeers and taunts from the ponies at camp, mocking someone for being different. Over their time together, Dash had discovered that griffons, and Gilda in particular, were possessed of very thick skin. But no one could ignore that feeling forever – the feeling of being an outcast. Of not belonging. Of isolation.
In a flash of perspective, Rainbow Dash saw the party play out in her mind. Gilda’s obvious jealousy of Pinkie Pie, encroaching on the first time she had seen her old friend in so many years. Attending a gathering surrounded by hundreds of ponies that were silently judging her. Humiliated over and over again, laughed at, mocked, all by someone she had thought was set out to ruin her oldest friendship. All in all, her reaction had been… understandable.
And by the time Rainbow Dash had confessed, it had been too late. Some things, once you said them, were hard to take back.
Apologies were always a good start though.
“Gilda…”
Silence. Words had been a struggle the whole night, for both parties. Now, they seemed unnecessary.
Dash and Gilda said nothing as they drew close, Gilda wrapping her arms around her friend’s body, and Dash feeling the softness of feathers on her hooves as she returned the embrace.
The two stayed like that for some time, saying nothing, the warmth of their bodies and beating of their hearts letting speeches pass through unspoken, saying volumes through silence.
Until, the two of them crying softly, Rainbow Dash had broken the peaceful quiet.
“I’m sorry.”
And that was all that needed to be said.