Running Up That Hill
The winter in the Everfree had been long and hard, same as it was every year. Pinkamena had spent nearly thirty years adapting to the chilled, gelid winds of winter and had been emboldened against the freezing tongues that lapped and sapped at the warmth of those caught within it. Cozy Glow, only released from her statuary prison for the last six months, was not as accustomed to the deep freeze.
Cozy had spent much of her time beneath blankets or perched before the stone oven that heated the air and cooked food for the candy constructed home. The little time she had ventured outdoors to help the aged Pinkie with chores, she was bundled, bloated, and burdened with clothing that trapped the warmth of her body and fought, to some degree, the cold. It was taxing and tiring to chop and carry firewood, gather the few edible plants that grew in winter, or visit the outhouse, all the while shivering and dreaming of the warm interior.
Cozy stuffed a wooden spoon filled with goopy oatmeal into her mouth. It was thick like glue but refreshingly sweet with honey she had helped gather the previous summer. There were still several large jars in the larder filled to the brim so she didn’t need to be sparing with it like some of the other ingredients.
Her eyes were heavy despite the early schedule she kept, or was forced to keep by Pinkie, having never been very good at waking up early. The window panes were black glass and the first insects of the new year were crying in a cacophony of sounds that only the deep woods could propagate.
Cozy swallowed the gray oats hungrily and watched the companion fate had dealt her with one mistrustful eye. She wondered if the oatmeal was poisoned because Pinkie was sitting across from her, propped on one foreleg smiling gently. It was a smile that said, “Yes, eat up, you fool,” but it was also the same pose she struck every morning. Just sitting there… watching with those mirthless blue balls of ice and hiding the razor-rimmed teeth behind a grinning theatre curtain.
Winter had been restricting for her and she, more than any filly in Equestria, felt the warm joy that comes with the first days of spring. There were only so many games to play, books to read, and arguments to have with Pinkamena before they became boring. And Pinkie rarely showed any sign of excitement. She always just watched with those dead eyes shimmering, searching Cozy’s movements, peeking into her very being as if she could see beyond the pegasus’ physical body. It creeped Cozy out.
That wasn’t to say that Pinkamena didn't do things. Cozy wondered how the middle-aged mare could keep herself entertained so easily; she could spend days on the same book or putting together the same puzzle over and over again. And knitting… Cozy hated the knitting that Pinkie could do for days without moving. If it wasn't for chores and food preparation, Cozy knew Pinkie would just sit in the green chair all day from the time she woke up until she went to bed with those long needles working. She was healthy and lean but Cozy couldn’t help but think of her as an old mare.
Cozy could only assume the obvious: Pinkie was crazy. She definitely didn’t have the rumored freneticism of her youth nor did she speak in mind boggling riddles, ridiculous, nonsensical words, or even squeaking, high-pitched enthusiasm. She was far calmer than the rumors had spoke of her. But, Cozy surmised, that that Pinkie was long gone. Dead forever.
There was a before and after schism for Pinkie Pie that even Cozy, in her petrified state, had heard about. The after-Pinkie was definitely not the same pony as the lovable goofball and was rumored to have developed many nasty habits. Cozy Glow had lived with her for the last six months and still didn’t trust the smiles, the motherly reprimands, or the politeness that the magenta mare wore like a paper mask. Just behind the disguise lurked a horror Cozy feared would reveal itself if she pried too heavily.
Sometimes, deep in the night, Cozy would wake up in the shared bed and hear the cries of anguish and pain ripping through the heavy wooden door that led to the basement. It locked from inside the house to prevent … whatever was down there from escaping. Though she had been labeled a villain, she was still frightened by what Pinkamena did in the earthen tomb below the candied tiles of the cottage.
Laying awake, pressing the pillow around her ears, Cozy Glow would attempt to drown out the cacophony of bright, slicing screams until they became low, resigned moans. It always drew to the end when … whomever was down there lacked the energy to scream properly. Pinkamena would appear in the frame of the basement door, her coat a mess of red spatters and smatters. She would slink through the house giggling to herself. Cozy feigned sleep, not wanting to attract the maniac’s attention until Pinkie would leave to bathe in the cold waters of the nearby river.
Cozy never asked what happened. Pinkie never talked about it. The most Cozy had ever gotten was the warning that, “I don’t want you to go into the basement, Cozy. Not unless I take you there.” Cozy didn’t want to go. She feared she would never return.
She wanted to leave, to escape the gingerbread house but where would she go? A wanted criminal who had escaped her punishment; she would be captured and repetrified within a week if she returned to any pony villages, Twilight would see to that.
She had survived by herself before. Having no family to protect or provide for her, Cozy had fashioned the ability to use others, to make them feel certain emotions and forget their initial judgments. But that was before she was revealed as a villain. Before she attempted to take over Equestria. It would be too hard to trick others, to manipulate them now.
The only other option would be to brave the wilderness and her charms surely would not beguile the bestial denizens of the Everfree Forest. Hungry predators didn’t care how cute you were or how well you could use a language they could not understand.
So her choice was one of desperation: Pinkie had not attempted to harm her yet and, while sometimes hateful or grouchy, seemed to enjoy her company. She would continue to exist in flesh and blood rather than stone but at the deranged whims of a known psychopath.
As if it wasn’t bad enough Cozy expected each day to be her last, it was also boring in the middle of nowhere without any modern amenities. Especially in the winter when most of each day was dark and too cold to do much more than wish for the sun to come out and reflect upon your ruined life and when it was likely to end. It had weighed upon the filly far heavier than the drifts of snow. Sometimes, Cozy thought it may be better to be dead.
The bowl of oatmeal was nearly empty, just a few globulous streaks remaining and Cozy’s belly was already protesting. She dawdled, knowing what was to come.
“If you’re finished, sweetie, we have chores to attend to,” Pinkie said, very aware of Cozy’s telling kinesics.
The warmth of the stone oven radiated the raised kitchen of the single story home. Only a solitary step led the ascent to the marbled licorice floor where the kitchen, dining table, and prep table sat. Cozy didn’t want to leave the heat behind. Even if winter had ended, the early mornings and late evenings still bore a strange likeness to the frosty season. She gave a weak merr-like noise and scooped the last spoonful of oats into her mouth in disapproval.
“Let’s not drag it out any longer than it needs to be, Cozy,” Pinkie chided.
Hopping from her seat, Cozy took the dirty wooden silverware and placed it in the wash basin near the pump spigot. She was too tired to argue and worked the long handle of the pump up and down until the spigot opened a fountain of clear, freezing water into the basin. She used a bar of home crafted soap on the silverware and scrubbed with a rag until the bowl and spoon were clean. She quickly placed them to dry on the counter and turned to Pinkie.
“Do we have to go out so early? There’s plenty of chores to do inside until it warms up,” Cozy asked, trying to appear as tired and cute as she could.
It didn’t work. It never did. Pinkie was far too aware of Cozy’s techniques.
“Oh, you know, I didn’t plan on doing housework today but you’re right, Cozy. I think we should add that to the list.” Pinkie grinned, the edges of her filed, triangular teeth poked behind the narrow slit of her lips. “But we have a routine and it begins with outside work. Get your jacket.”
“Ugh…,” Cozy breathed and walked defeatedly towards the closet. She quickly donned the down jacket and popped a pair of furry ear muffs onto her head. She wished she would have kept her mouth shut. Pinkie had never outright punished her, had never harmed her, but she seemed to enjoy turning Cozy’s attempts to outsmart around on her. It made cozy feel stupid at times.
“Nobody likes a whiner, honey,” Pinkie reminded the Pegasus as she donned her own jacket and toboggan. They were second-hoof, all of the clothes they had belonged to somepony else at one point. There were several stitch marks here and there from where Pinkie had repaired them over time.
“I know, I know. You tell me that every morning,” Cozy lamented.
“You’d think you’d learn,” Pinkie replied dryly.
“I’m not a morning pony, Pinkie!” Cozy’s voice raised in irritation and she checked herself, afraid of annoying the murderess.
“That’s not an excuse. There are things that have to be done daily, Cozy, so we have to get up early to do them. That’s just part of life.” Pinkie spoke softly, appearing to not have taken offense to the snappy remark Cozy had made.
Cozy mulled the statement over. The lack of automation irked her. “Too bad we don’t live in a town.”
“Even when I lived with the Cakes I had to get up early to prepare the dough, bake the pastries, and a myriad other things. Though I do miss being closer to others…” the graying pink pony paused, standing motionless at the door. Cozy recognized the edges of her lips beginning to curl up in a sadistic grin.
“Plumbing would be nice, though,” Cozy interjected into Pinkie’s aside, snapping her back to the moment.
“Yes, plumbing would be nice. Let’s go.” Pinkie agreed and opened the peppermint bark door. A draft of chill wind swept in like an animal, tearing at Cozy’s jacket and digging fingers of frost into her small frame. She shivered, pulled the coat tightly around her and followed Pinkie.
There were many chores to do around the candy cottage, most of which Cozy didn’t think were important. Pinkie went about most of the harder or more delicate ones, calling the pegasus over to learn when there was something she deemed necessary.
Most of Cozy’s time was spent checking for cracks in the cottage, clearing snow or brush that had fallen in the night, and working in the garden to free it of weeds or looking for signs of animals that might be damaging the crops. In winter there were very few crops, only a few tough squashes and a variant of lettuce. They subsisted mainly on what had been canned or preserved in other fashions through the harder months.
Now that spring had finally arrived, Cozy used a hoe to clear the garden and till the soil. It was hard work for the diminutive pony. Lacking the strength to dig too deeply, Cozy chipped at the hard ground and formed a small, shallow row before Pinkie wandered over to check on her.
Pinkie watched with disapproval while Cozy raised and dropped the hoe against the frozen ground, stirring only a few hunks of soil with each attempt. Cozy knew Pinkie was thinking hateful things. The look in her eyes was judgmental and hard.
“Ground’s too hard yet,” she finally explained. “I thought you would be able to tell by the… well, nothing you were accomplishing.”
“I wanted to get it over with. I hate garden chores,” Cozy answered but immediately felt marginalized for her lack of foresight.
Pinkie seemed to let it go and turned in the darkness to face the building. “Did you check the foundation already?” Pinkie turned her head to summarily inspect the closest wall of the home.
“I found a little crack but filled it with that stuff you showed me how to use last week.” Cozy held up her hooves, bits of hardened white paste smattered across the keratin.
“You are using too much if you get it all over your hooves like that. We don’t have an endless supply and it’s difficult to make,” Pinkie looked hard at the clumps, smirking a little at the end. She turned and went to inspect. It wasn’t long until Pinkie was calling for her in a tone that said ‘you’ve screwed up again, Cozy’.
Cozy marched to the back of the cottage, knowing what was coming. It seemed like Pinkie found enjoyment in criticizing almost everything she did. Nothing was ever up to the earth pony’s standards. Cozy trudged to Pinkie, the slave master, who was shaking her head disapprovingly.
“What’s wrong with it?” Cozy muttered.
Pinkie began explaining proper techniques in crack patching, smoothing, and not wasting the limited resources they had. Cozy didn’t listen, it was too early in the morning for a lecture though that had never stopped Pinkie before. She felt bad, having really tried to use the filling cream in the manner she had been shown but it gooped out far too quickly and in a larger amount than she had intended. Then it just got everywhere and refused to smooth into the ceramicized pastry construction. She was lucky only her hooves had been victim to the spreading mass of filler material… the wall was not so fortunate.
“Okay, I’m stupid! I get it! I’ll try not to mess it up so bad next time.” Cozy was flustered, tired, and grumpy. She was tired of being admonished for everything she did and did not hide the contempt in her voice.
Pinkie raised an eyebrow at the youth while her lip curled contemptuously. “I never said you were stupid, Cozy. Watch your tone.” The warning was overt and yet Cozy’s irritation caused her to retort the pink mare.
“Or else what? You’ll make me feel bad about myself? You’ll take me to the basement? At least it would be a break from the psychological cruelty!” Cozy didn’t mean to yell but she did. Pinkie’s look of annoyance shifted to anger. Her pupils shrank like that of a cat’s about to ambush its prey.
“Is that what you want, Cozy? To go into the basement?” Pinkamena asked, devoid of emotion.
Biting her lip, Cozy frowned and looked to the nearly barren ground. “It’s going to happen one day anyway, isn’t it? And what does it matter? I’m stuck out here with no future. Just like you. Maybe it would be better to just…
“Just what, Cozy?” Pinkamena’s mouth drooped as she surveyed the filly.
“Just… get it over with,” Cozy answered lowly.
“Let’s go…,” Pinkie answered.
The mystery of the words fell heavily upon Cozy and she wondered idly if she had finally overstepped her boundaries. Never before had she been so lippy, so free of will to challenge the older mare. But, she wasn’t certain it had been a mistake.
Pinkie Pie led the youth around the building and towards a small shed filled with split logs. Before the shed was an old, gnarled stump. Standing at an angle and plunged into the flesh of the stump was an axe used for splitting wood. Cozy spent a portion of each day helping Pinkie cut the rent logs of fallen trees and it was hard work for the diminutive pegasus even if she was never the one bringing the sharp, old tool down upon them.
Cozy bit the inside of her lip and prepared her wings to fly should the madness of Pinkie Pie come to fruition. But… would it matter if she flew away? Perhaps a quick death by the heavy instrument was preferable to the fate lying in wait in the Everfree or the eternity trammeled in stone by Twilight Sparkle. Her wings lay quietly against her back as she made that choice.
Pinkie glowered as she wrenched the axe free with her hooves, the squeak of dismembering fiber bellowed from the stump. “Well?” Pinkie looked expectantly, eyes pin pricks hidden in the veil of the early, sunless morning. The blade was nearly black from sap and log detritus
Cozy sniffled gently, and focused on the stump. So many blocks of wood had been torn asunder and, somewhere deep in her mind, Cozy awaited the stroke that would “accidentally” end her life. The chill of the morning frosted the ground and solidified Cozy’s breath enough to wreath her cheeks as it slowly escaped her body. The cold bit her as she flensed the coat from her torso and neatly laid it on the ground. She took a deep breath and held it, looking up to the maniac whose irritation at her dawdling was evident.
“How long are you going to take? There’s other things that need to be done.”
Cozy nodded and laid her head gently to the stump, the rough, old wood scratching into the delicate softness of her cheek. She was ready. Letting the breath out slowly, she waited, her cares gone. She found a moment of serene clarity and lamented it visited her in this, final, moment.
She waited… and nothing happened. After a moment, the pegasus popped open one eye to find Pinkie shaking her head and pressing one hoof exasperatedly into her forehead. “Are we done with this drama, Cozy? Will you please place the wood onto the stump now?”
Cozy, confused, lifted her head and felt the icy bite of the wind sweep through her small frame. She stammered something that made no sense, even to her, as she realized the blunder she had made. Embarrassed, her cheeks began to heat up and redden as she pulled the jacket back around her body. “I… I thought…”
“Wow, honey...,” Pinkie said and judged the child with her lacquered gaze.
“Yeah… yeah, I guess so.” She went quiet except for the labored grunts of placing logs onto the stump between the felling of the blade that tore them asunder. She was like a rusted machine, slowly going about the repetitive motions but hollow and empty inside. She sniffled lightly and wandered off once the felling of firewood had ended.
Pinkie called to her, directing her to her next task, but Cozy didn’t care. She wanted to be alone. No, that wasn’t right. She didn’t want to be alone and that was the problem. She would be. Out in this miserable forest until the end of her life.
She wasn’t certain if she hoped it would be in the distant or near future anymore.
Pinkie Pie could see the slumped form of Cozy Glow through the window of her home as she prepared lunch for the girl. Maybe she had taken it a bit too far this morning. Cozy prodded something with a stick mindlessly, her curved, hunched form a heap of melancholy disaster.
Pinkie didn’t understand the pegasus. That wasn’t new, Pinkie no longer understood anypony. Where mirth and love used to pump up like a spring from deep within the earth, now bled the hate and rejection of their affirmation that stained her heart and mind. But not for Cozy.
Pinkie had given up, tired of being alone in a veritable sea of falsehood and mimics. She had crept into the castle of Canterlot with the single-minded focus of ending the leader of the shadows herself, Twilight Sparkle. Even as a fake, Twilight would be dangerous but oblivion called to Pinkie as she crept through the statuary. She wanted one of two things: Twilight’s blood or her own demise. Neither was particularly preferable. Exhausted of solitude, she planned to hang herself if she fulfilled her goal.
And then she saw the light, the beacon, the glow within the twisted statue of villains. She felt it deep in her grimy heart, a warmth she had not been privy to in nearly thirty years. She heard the voice of the child atop the lesser races pleading for help in her head. She could see the blue sparklings within the stone and recognized it as another sentient, true being.
She wasn’t alone. Here, in the garden of villains, Pinkie found another active soul.
And now it sat outside, smothered and sad. Pinkie hadn’t meant to hurt Cozy’s feelings. The child had been resilient for so long but it was as if something had broken within her this morning. It hurt Pinkie. Almost as much as the knowledge that Cozy didn’t trust her.
Wrapping her head around Cozy’s mistrust was as agonizing as it was impossible for Pinkie. If Cozy had been lightless, like the other shades, why would she have rescued her? Brought her back to her home? Didn’t that tell Cozy everything she needed to know about their relationship? Pinkie let out a frustrated sigh. Maybe their wavelengths weren’t vibrating at the same luster yet. Maybe they never would. That was okay… it just meant Pinkie had to explain things rather than will them into understanding.
The winter had been hard for Pinkie for different reasons than Cozy. The pegasus routinely flinched if Pinkie moved too quickly. She only ate after Pinkie took the first bite. And, worst of all, she pitied those few who Pinkie found in the woods and brought to the basement. Pinkie knew the difference between real, restful sleep and the frightened breathing of a child clenching their eyes and hoping not to be seen.
For whatever reason, Cozy didn’t recognize the imitations for the blight they were and cowered when Pinkie appeared in a veil of crimson from the basement. Horror filled Cozy’s incarnadine eyes in the days following the capture and mutilation of counterfeit beings.
Worst of all, she shrunk away from Pinkie’s touch as if an embrace was infectious.
It was difficult to not hold a grudge, but Cozy was her only light and she intended to cultivate it into a pillar of flame by which the shadows of this prisonous world would crumble. And now that light was dwindling, mere embers nearly unable to flicker.
Cozy needed help. Her light was dying and Pinkamena couldn’t bear to watch a kindred energy fade away into the oily blackness of the smothering world. But what could she do? The girl didn’t trust her, didn’t see why she scolded her. It had been so long since she had made conversation with anything that could truly understand her that she was uncertain the ability to commune still resided within her. But she had to do something. Something fun… but Cozy didn’t find hunting imitation ponies fun. Neither did she seem like she would be thrilled with the systematic removal of their extremities or the process of skinning them alive...
A thought, undeniably spring, popped into Pinkie’s head all at once and she smiled a sawblade smile. Perhaps, after lunch, they didn’t need to straighten the house. They could afford an afternoon off.
Pinkie finished kneading the dough for the pot pies and rolled it out. Quickly cutting the circular patterns for the deep pans, she filled them with canned vegetables, spices, and love, something Cozy didn’t seem to realize she put into each meal, before shoving them into the oven to cook.
Acquiring materials was difficult in seclusion, even more so when you were as reviled and recognizable as Pinkie was. Even with her cutie marks slashed away, ponies remembered her. She had seen recognition flash in hundreds of eyes over the years. She loved that moment of terror; that moment of knowing what was to come. Anyway, she could make do with some of the items graciously donated to her by the lightless frauds.
She paused and giggled to herself, like a pull-string doll that’s speaker was warped and deranged from time or victimization.
She didn’t have everything she needed, but Pinkie had learned to make due long ago. She retired to the basement. Down to where Cozy feared to tread. Where Pinkie had forbidden her from visiting until her small mind could accept the nightmare in which Pinkie lived. In many ways, she dreaded that day. In many others, she yearned for it.
Cozy chewed a gravy-heavy bite of vegetable pot pie and wondered why Pinkie was grinning so fervently at her from across the table. The razored, triangular teeth of the earth pony were unsettling. Even after all the time she had lived here, the sight of them made Cozy’s skin crawl. Cozy looked questioningly at the golden pie and back at the psychotic mare. “I’m not going to find something...wrong… in this am I, Pinkie?”
She suddenly didn’t feel very hungry regardless of the answer and scooted the petite baked good away from her.
“My dear, why would you think there would be something wrong with it? Really, Cozy, you need to learn to trust me more. I’ve never done anything to harm you, have I?” Pinkie wasn’t wrong. Cozy suspected much but Pinkie had never overtly harmed her. Making her feel like a fool, however, she did often. She remained silent.
“Well, if you are finished with lunch, I thought of something wonderful for us to do,” Pinkie said. The smile on her face grew and Cozy felt her heart pump a little quicker in response to the grim grin. It calmed almost as quickly as it came on.
“Mopping?” Cozy grimaced.
Pinkie chuckled to herself. “No. Not mopping. I know you’ve been dying for the weather to change so you weren’t trapped in the house. So, I thought today would be a nice day to fly a kite.” She waited for Cozy’s response.
Cozy was at a loss. She didn’t know what game this was or what Pinkie was up to. She cautiously let a little excitement creep into her voice. “Really? I’ve never flown a kite before.” A little more excitement squirted into her voice than she had intended and she found herself enamored with the idea. “I used to see moms with their kids in Ponyville flying kites in spring and I always...,” she guarded herself, not wanting to reveal too much.
“Take a few more bites of that pie and we’ll go. It’s windy today. I bet we could really get it soaring.” Pinkie looked out the window for a moment, watching the bare trees rocking in the wind. She turned back and found Cozy prying open the top of her pie to inspect the contents. “Cozy. It’s just potatoes, peas, and carrots. I’m not tricking you into eating it.”
Cozy dropped the lid back into place with a light splat and smiled reluctantly before devouring half the pastry in one bite. She spoke through her full mouth impolitely, “Okay, let’s go!”
“Manners, honey…,” Pinkie chided gently as Cozy abandoned her dishes and dashed through the front door, popping back in long enough to grab the forgotten jacket.
Cozy ran outside without knowing where she was going. She looked around, quickly looking for the most logical spot for kite flying. While experience of flying a kite told her nothing, the pegasus had considerable practice at navigating the ephemeral currents of wind. The garden plot was wide and flat but that was a no-brainer. Even if Pinkamena wasn’t intending on killing her soon, it would happen if she trampled the vegetables struggling to grow there.
Much of the gap in which they lived was hilly, lodged between mountains on all sides. The pegasus turned from one side to the next, the flat lands near the forest were lined with covered pits to deter unwanted visitors, be they wild animals or lost ponies. The winding river cut much of the remaining flat land in half and the area on the other side of the river was too marshy to run without being sucked hip-deep into the bog. And who knew what manner of poisonous reptiles lived in that disease-ridden mess.
Turning her mouth to one side in thought, Cozy walked around behind the house. They would need to be a good distance from the cottage or else the string would catch and crash the kite. There was a slight incline heading up and into the forest. The grass was short and would provide ample running space. Cozy grinned and cantered over to it, waiting for Pinkamena.
She waited several minutes, her smile faltering more and more with each passing second. She began to think Pinkie was playing some sort of cruel joke. She had never seen a kite in the house, and it wasn’t like the home was immense. She sat down, glowering to the earth below and looking up occasionally, each time growing more depressed but also angry.
Finally, the double doors that were the exterior entrance to the basement flew open and Pinkie climbed to ground level. On her back was a green-tinted kite a little over a meter long and a meter wide. The frame was a kind of strong, hard wood that she and Pinkie harvested from the forest. A ball of thick twine fell from the bundle and rolled a short distance.
Cozy quickly fluttered to the twine and lifted it. “Oh my goodness! You really weren’t lying!”
Pinkie looked at the pegasus smartly and shook her head. “Of course I wasn’t.” They walked up the hill a ways, until they were a comfortable distance from the surrounding trees with enough room to run down the hill without bringing the flying toy crashing into the brownie-tiled roof.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve flown one of these, Cozy. I barely remembered how to build one. I… hope it flies. The canvas I used was a little thick but I didn’t have anything thinner.”
“It’s so pretty, Pinkie. I think it will be okay. So, umm, I’ll run with the ball of string and you’ll hold the kite until I’m fast enough to make it fly, right?” Cozy asked cheerily. She hadn’t been this interested in something since regaining her fleshy body.
“Right. We have to wait for a gust of wind. You take this, “ the older mare held the twine ball out for the filly who eagerly snatched it. “I’ll tell you when to run.”
Cozy fell into a marathon runner’s stance and waited impatiently. She twisted her head and looked back at Pinkie who watched the branches of trees rocking in the breeze high above them. Closing her eyes to better feel for the air, Pinkie waited. Growing restless, Cozy whined.
Suddenly Cozy broke into a run, tired of waiting for the older mare to decide when the time was right. Hunks of new grass flew from her hooves as she flung herself forward, the string unraveling in her mouth as she sped away.
Pinkie, caught off guard, hesitated to release the kite, finally tossing it up despite the lack of air current in the bowl-shaped valley. The kite fluttered for a moment, the pull of Cozy’s running dragging it not up but forward. The mint-colored fabric grappled with the force of the pull but turned and dipped forward mightily, crashing into the ground and being dragged a few steps.
“Cozy! You’re going to damage it! Stop running!” Pinkie shouted, irritated with the lack of control the filly managed. She bit her lip and swore under her breath but didn’t press the issue.
“Sorry! I… I just wanted to see it fly!” answered Cozy. she wore a frown on her small face, the curled blue locks doing their best to hide her disappointment.
“It’s fine. Roll the ball back up and let’s try again,” Pinkie marched to the kite and gathered it back up, checking for structural breaks. It appeared to be fine. The material, though heavier than normal kite paper, was far more durable. She raked some loose strands of grass and dirt from it. In the center of the teal kite was a bluish dragonfly. Pinkie smiled at it, thinking it an apt symbol, even if it were only coincidence.
‘Oh! I was so excited, I didn’t see the picture!” Cozy said, taking a moment to admire the dragonfly. “I didn’t realize you could draw so well, Pinkie.”
“Yes, well. Neither did I, honey,” answered Pinkamena and grinned. “Okay, are you ready to try again?”
“Yes!” Cozy got her legs beneath her and leaned forward as if she were a runner in the Equestrian Games. Pinkie chuckled.
“Okay, I like your enthusiasm. Don’t go until I tell you this time.”
“Roger!” Cozy exclaimed, drawing another giggle from Pinkie.
The breeze rocked the trees higher up the hill but little wind actually made it down into the valley. The hills protected the small cottage from the heavier winds which, normally, was a good thing. For Kite flying, however, it was disastrous. Pinkie waited, feeling for a breeze, any breeze. The only one that came was weak but maybe it would be enough. “GO!” she shouted.
Cozy kicked dirt up once more with the first few ravenous gallops and plunged headlong down the hill, almost losing control of her balance and falling. She recovered and continued her rush down the slope.
“Please, wind, please take the kite this time. For Cozy,” whispered Pinkie as she released the kite. Once more it was dragged down the hill behind Cozy, flapping and sputtering against the wind. For a moment, it caught and raised a few meters into the air but the wind died and it dove straight down, colliding with the earth hard enough to get a gasp from both Cozy and Pinkamena.
Cozy sighed and trotted slowly up to the kite. “I guess it’s just not going to work…”
Pinkamena checked the kite and, once again, approved of it’s resilience, but she worried the wind just wasn’t strong enough down in the gap to raise the kite skyward.
“If only we had a way to get it up there,” she said, watching the bending boughs of trees higher up the hillside.
Cozy sighed and nodded. Suddenly she looked sternly at Pinkamena.
“What?” Pinkie asked, recognizing her own look in Cozy’s expression.
“We’re dumb, Pinkie. Like, real dumb,” she stated bluntly.
“What do you mean?” Pinkie took issue with Cozy’s comment but hid her annoyance. Cozy rolled her eyes and wound the string back up into the ball.
“You take this,” she demanded and took the kite with her forelegs. Flapping her wings, Cozy floated up into the air. She rose straight up, the ball of twine feeding the kite as she ascended into the sky. The leathery, lacquered fabric of the kite began to fill and it pulled Cozy forward as strong winds grasped it.
Pinkamena chuckled, watching as Cozy released the kite. The mare fought the currents pulling the kite higher, holding it in the bright, blue sky of the early spring. Cozy landed quickly and Pinkie gave her the twine ball, much smaller now.
“I guess we were dumb, Cozy,” she laughed and smiled to the smaller pony.
“It’s okay. We’re not perfect, are we?” Cozy smiled, guiding the kite with the twine and watching it turn and glide in the heavens above.
“I suppose not, honey. I suppose not.” Pinkie watched with a delight she had not felt in years as the pegasus maneuvered the flying instrument high above.
After a while, Cozy turned to Pinkie and said, “Oh! You need a turn, Pinkie! Here. Just be careful, those headwinds can be a little tricky.”
“It’s alright, sweetie. You play. I like just watching,” answered Pinkie.
“That’s not fair, though. Here. hold it tightly or the kite will pull all of the string out and we’ll lose it.” Cozy forced the small ball into Pinkie’s hooves.
Brushing the curtain of mane from her face, Pinkamena took the ball and held the kite aloft. She was afraid to try turning it as Cozy had done and it didn’t take long for Cozy to notice.
“Move it like this, feel the wind. I know you don’t have wings, but you can feel how the wind moves. Flow with it, let the kite move with it, Pinkie.” Cozy held Pinkamena’s hooves and guided them, smiling brightly up at her. It was the first real smile Pinkie had seen from the pegasus and she wanted to hug her. Her glow was resonating brightly inside of her diminutive frame.
Together they flew the kite, taking turns and laughing together for hours. The bright white light of midday began to fade, turning gold and then orange as the evening came too quickly. Still they stood on the hill, watching their dragonfly fly high above them.
Pinkamena watched Cozy Glow, her own light beaming from deep inside the husk of what used to be her heart. “Cozy, are you afraid of me?”
Cozy’s brow furrowed at the question and didn’t want to answer it. She gave a concerned glance to Pinkie. Pinkie nodded softly. “I understand. I… I’m not very good at talking anymore. It’s been so long since I had somepony that I could talk to. I just want you to know that I love you. Even if you can’t trust me yet, I still love you and am very happy that you are here with me. I’d never hurt you, Cozy.”
Cozy Glow nodded gently, uncertain if she could trust the pink mare. “I… you… you make me feel inadequate, Pinkie. You make me feel dumb a lot and it hurts me.”
“I’m sorry, honey. I….” Pinkamena struggled with her words. “Do you know why I’m hard on you?”
Cozy slumped a little, turning her face away from Pinkamena. “Because I’m stupid? Because I’m a worthless failure?”
“Is that what you really think?” Pinkie felt pangs of agony in her chest as the filly nodded her answer.
“I’m not good at anything out here. I don’t do anything right...just like when I tried to take over Equestria. I tried but I failed.... twice.”
Pinkamena couldn’t hold her urges back any longer and swept Cozy into her forelegs, hugging her close. She expected the filly to recoil, to pull away, but to her surprise, Cozy Glow hugged her back and buried her small face deep into her chest. The kite, released by the child, flew freely higher into the sky, disappearing into the heavens and leaving the pair far behind.
Cozy stifled sobs but she began to cry. Maybe she didn’t trust Pinkamena, but the embrace felt good and she released the bundles of negativity that had been hiding within her. She held onto Pinkie’s lithe frame and nuzzled deeply into her. She had never been held, nor allowed to open up and it felt strange. Strange but good. She looked up with wet eyes and asked with breaking voice, “ You don’t think I’m stupid? That I’m a loser?”
Pinkamena brushed the blue curls from the pink filly’s forehead and kissed it gently. “No, my Cozy. I don’t. I’m… I’m only hard on you because…” Pinkie hadn’t had such strong emotions in years. Her world was hate, violence, and grim, sadistic delight. Processing love in her dead heart was new and arduous.
“Because why?” Cozy stared up, begging for answers.
“Because if something happens to me, you’ll have to know how to survive out here. This is your home as much as it is mine, honey. I don’t know how many years I have left and you will have to be able to rely on yourself once I’m gone.”
Cozy couldn’t stop the sobs at this point and buried her face into Pinkamena once more. For a long time they stood together, locked in each other’s embrace. Both taking solace in the other, experiencing feelings neither suspected they could ever have.
Finally, Cozy pulled away and wiped at her eyes. She looked to the skies and sighed. “Sorry I lost the kite, Pinkie.”
“It’s alright, honey. I can always make another one,” she chuckled lightly, mirthfully, “Once we make another ball of string.”
“Yeah… you’ll let me help, right? Show me how to do it?”
“Of course. Though we’ll have to wait for summer to get the bark we need”
The pair walked slowly down the hill towards the cottage. Already the windows were dark and there were several chores left to do before night arrived.
Cozy looked up to Pinkamena and grinned slyly, knowingly, “The kite. You didn’t draw the dragonfly did you?”
“Nope. I didn’t, Cozy,” Pinkamena answered.
“It was a pony.”
“Yes, honey. Yes, it was.”