You know what they say – well, I guess not (because they couldn't say it, hohoho). It's the MLPchan write-off, in which a prompt that could go anywhere goes exactly where you thought it would. Yep, lots of shipping. Oh boy. You're in for a treat.
It's a competition, in case you couldn't figure. The winner gets a free plushie, and your vote helps decide the winner. (And this is just me, but I really liked that thriller.) Something, something, something... I really lost my meter.
Cast your vote here, preferably after reading the stories. There's also a discussion thread, if you're into that.
I always like relaxing with my sister. Sharing time, talking about clothes. I just wish it happened more often. She’s always so busy. But a spa day is always the best way to get her to relax and have fun.
The sauna feels awfully nice. Rarity levitates another scoop of water over the hot rocks, and I can feel the warmth soaking through my coat.
“That’s not too much, is it?” she says as the steam rises between us.
“Well... it is getting a bit hot,” I answer and undo the towel on my head. That helps cool me off a bit, but I think I need a break. “I’m gonna go outside for a minute. Be right back.” Sis nods at me and leans back on her bench.
When I get outside, it’s even worse out there. Sweat’s still running down my face, and now I’ve got something scratching my leg. I look down, and it’s a small bramble caught on my hoof. I knock it away, but it’s still sticking me. There aren’t any growing up through the sidewalk. Why can’t I get rid of it? Ow! Now it hurts! I hear growling, too. And I smell smoke...
My eyes pop open and I jolt up in bed. That stupid cat’s clawing at my leg! What’s her problem? Wait, Opal? I’m at Rarity’s. Oh, yeah! I’m spending three weeks with her while mom and dad are away on another trip. Wait... Smoke. What’s that light in the hall? Oh, no... No! Fire!
I roll out of bed and run down the stairs with Opal right behind. “Rarity! Rarity!” I call out, and she’s just coming out of her room. Her eyes are open so wide, but she’s shaking her head and not saying anything. At the bottom of the stairs, she goes toward the back room. She turns so fast that I slip and hit my head on the floor trying to follow. I let out a groan, rub the sore spot on my cheek, and stumble after her. She’s trying to gather up some bundles of cloth and a few dresses off the racks. “Rarity! C’mon!” She won’t listen!
“Just let me save a few things! Please! I can’t afford to lose them!” She’s shaking and keeps dropping stuff.
I grab hold of her tail and start tugging, but my hooves are slipping on the floor, and I can’t budge her. “Please!” I yell. My throat’s starting to burn and it hurts to talk now. “Ple—” I try again, but I’m coughing so hard I can’t speak. My eyes are watering, too, and it must be from the smoke. Yeah, it’s the smoke. Rarity finally looks down at me—she’s got that strain in her eyes, and her lip’s quivering. But she holds it in somehow, nods at me, and closes her eyes, then dashes out the front door with me.
Outside, it feels suddenly cold. I’m shivering, and I try leaning up against Rarity, but it’s not stopping. The fire brigade’s already here, spraying their hoses. It’s dark, but I can barely make out Rainbow Dash shoving a cloud over Carousel Boutique, and Twilight’s levitating big globs of water from the river. Everywhere around me, there’s shouting, but it all sounds funny, like it’s echoing.
I can’t think. Everything feels so thick, and I’m staring off at who knows what. Next to me, Rarity is just staring, too. I stop trying to think and lean into her side, but she doesn’t notice.
The fire’s mostly out now. It doesn’t take them long, but what could have—No! No! My—my head hurts...
I was making Rarity dessert earlier. I left the oven on...
Somepony’s shaking me... I gasp, hard, and almost fall out of bed.
“Goodness! Are you okay? You were shouting.” Fluttershy is looking down at me with a hoof held in front of her mouth.
I just sit there for a minute, breathing hard.
“Calm down. It’s okay, Sweetie Belle! It was only a dream.” She’s using that sweet smile she’s always got and stroking my mane. I don’t even remember what I was dreaming. After a couple of minutes, my heart’s not thumping anymore. “There, there. Why don’t you come downstairs and have some breakfast? Then Apple Bloom and Scootaloo will be by to walk to school with you. Won’t that be nice?” She scrunches up her nose and cocks her head at me.
I nod after a second and follow her down to the kitchen, where she’s already made some pancakes. It’s so... different. I know I’ve been in Fluttershy’s house before, but never alone. I sit at the table, and it’s so quiet I think I can hear her breathing. Why am I here again? I’m just staring at the tabletop, following the swirls of wood grain, and then she slides a plate of pancakes and a glass of milk in front of me. Mm. I am thirsty, and the food does smell good.
“Eat up! A good breakfast is the best way to start your day,” Fluttershy says, giving me a pat on the shoulder.
I pick up the glass with both hooves and glance out the little window that’s over the stove—
With a loud thump, my glass falls back to the table and splashes milk everywhere. I jump out of my chair and try to grab for the napkin to wipe it up, but my legs are shaking. Why won’t they stop shaking? I feel suddenly warm as Fluttershy wraps her hooves around me and whispers “Shhh” in my ear.
“It’s okay. No harm done. We’ll just pour you another glass.” She’s got her cheek against mine, and i can feel her smiling.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble. I don’t know what else to say. “I’m sorry I—I didn’t...”
“Don’t worry yourself. Here, I’ll wrap these pancakes up for you, and you can eat them at school. Your friends are here.” Giving me a little nudge, she puts my saddlebags over my back and puts in my wrapped-up breakfast.
I keep quiet and walk out to Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. They’re standing there with their mouths open but not saying anything. I don’t know. I guess I wouldn’t know what to say, either, but it’s making me feel weird that they keep looking at me. Finally, I start walking along the road. Put one hoof in front of the other. I think Applejack said something like that once. Behind me, I can hear one of them kicking a stone along as she walks.
“Are you... alright?” Apple Bloom asks. I shrug, but she probably doesn’t see it. Nopony talks again for the rest of the trip.
“Sweetie Belle!” Miss Cheerilee’s voice jerks me out of some daydream I must have been in. I was only resting my eyes for a minute, I swear!
Silver Spoon and Diamond Tiara are smirking a bit too big at me, but Miss Cheerilee isn’t scowling. In fact, she’s smiling as she bends down to whisper to me.
“Sweetie Belle, maybe it’s a little too soon to come back to school. Do you need to take the afternoon off?” Miss Cheerilee pats me on top of my head.
I don’t know. A couple of seats over, Scootaloo has one eyebrow raised and is mouthing “duh” at me. “I guess so.”
After gathering my books in my saddlebags, I trudge over to Sugarcube Corner. I kinda remember Pinkie saying last night that Rarity could use part of their showroom until Carousel Boutique gets fixed again. But... Rarity never yelled at me. I guess I deserve it. I just can’t... That look she gets—she doesn’t glare at me, and it’s like gravity’s extra strong, making her droop her ears and shoulders and everything. That’s the worst. Like she’s the one who’s being punished. I stand outside for a minute, then finally grit my teeth and go in.
As soon as I open the door, there’s noise everywhere. There must be a dozen ponies in line at the counter, and foals are running all over the place.
“Number fifty-six?” Mrs. Cake shouts, then slides a box of donuts over to the mare who walks up. She breaks the seal and pops it open, letting two colts nose their way in and grab one. Another mare’s waiting by the counter with the lid pulled off her coffee cup for a refill, and three more are looking over the board of daily specials.
“Freshen that for you?” Mr. Cake repeats as he carries his teapot around to all the occupied tables.
I finally step in, and to the right, I see the familiar old dress racks from Carousel Boutique’s sales floor. Hanger by hanger, a bunch of dresses and suits flash colors, and I remember a few. The purple ball gown that sis let me help stitch. A suit that I got to pick between bowtie and ascot for. On a summer hat, the peacock feather I found that made Rarity’s eyes sparkle when she saw it.
“How’s the length?” Rarity shouts over the crowd.
There’s a filly trying on a cute-ceanera skirt, and her mother is leaning in close to Rarity.
“Pardon?”
“The hem. Is it too low?” Rarity tugs at the skirt a bit until it just starts to cover the filly’s cutie mark. Lucky duck. Wish I had mine.
“Too slow? No, we don’t need it for another week,” the mare answers.
Rarity takes a deep breath. “Do you like the way it hangs?” Leaning even closer, the mare holds a hoof to her ear. “Length?”
The mare finally mouths an “Oh!” and nods. As the filly wiggles out of the skirt, Rarity glares at a colt who keeps racing around the clothing racks. He’s knocked a business suit to the floor but doesn’t stop.
When her customers finally wave good-bye, I swallow hard and walk up to Rarity. I’m staring at her hooves, and it feels like I’ve got a jumbo cupcake stick in my throat. “Sis, I...” I don’t get any further. I look up at her, and I can feel the tears gathering, but maybe she can’t see them. “Sorry...”
“Oh, Sweetie Belle! Has school let out already?” She levitates the suit back into place, then scribbles something on her notepad. “Hold on. I need to make something for the Cakes since they were so kind as to let me use their space for the time being, and I just got a wonderful idea.” I wait a minute while she sketches. I wish I could see the paper. It’s so fun to watch when she gets inspired. When that pencil goes flying around the page like that, and sometimes she even asks my opinion about...
I clear my throat, but she’s looking over at the noisy crowd again. “I swear, if I never see another dessert again...” she says with her jaw clenched. She knows!
My throat tightens again, and all I can do is squeak at her. My heart skips a beat, and the tingle in my chest makes me cough. She’s finally looking at me now. Right at me.
“We do need to talk. Soon.” Her ears are folded straight back, and she can’t keep her lip from trembling. Oh, Celestia! She knows! “I’m a little too busy right now, though. Why don’t you run along with your friends? You can come back and help me close up shop in a few hours, if you like.”
I nod and slowly back away, but my heart is racing. Is that part of the punishment? That I have to wait for it all day and imagine how bad it’s gonna be? Why do grown-ups always have to do that? I barely get out the door before I lose control. The corners of my mouth finally give way, and I gallop down the street to a spot I know in the park, where the bushes form this ring, and it’s a nice, private place to have a good cry. I didn’t mean it, sis. I really didn’t!
Hours later, I come back to Sugarcube Corner. Most of the lights are off downstairs, but there’s still one glowing near the front door. The bell jingles as I go in.
“Rarity? Can I help?” I ask her. She’s got a wet cloth and is scrubbing some chocolate stains off a couple of dresses. That vein’s bulging out on the side of her head, and she keeps glancing over toward the kitchen door, but I don’t hear anypony in there—I think Pinkie’s already gone upstairs for the night.
“Oh... No, dear, I’m already finished.” She smiles at me, but only with her mouth. “You can walk with me back to the library, but then I’ll have to say good night. I’m so behind on my orders, and I’ve still got to make thank-you gifts for Fluttershy, Twilight, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash.” Her shoulders sag, and as she steps out into the light, I see bits of mane sticking out all over.
“Rarity, I...” She knows! She already knows! The hard part’s over. Why can’t I make myself tell her?
She sighs, and the light catches something in her eye that she wipes away. “Come along, Sweetie Belle.” Her mouth is still hanging open, and she’s about to speak, but... nothing. Do I have to say it before she’ll forgive me, or at least before she’ll finally yell at me and get it over with?
We trot along in silence, and when we finally reach the library, most of the lights are out there, too. Twilight’s left one on for us downstairs, though. After tossing her saddlebags aside, Rarity flops into a chair and levitates some thread, needles, and fabric patterns.
“You’re gonna... work?” I just stand there in the doorway, useless.
Sis nods without looking up and starts looping that needle back and forth through all those seams. “I can’t run my machines in a library, dear, especially when ponies are trying to sleep,” she answers, angling her head toward the stairs.
“Oh.” I look down at the floor for a minute. Finally, I whimper, “Can I have a hug?”
Did she even hear me? I’m still waiting for a nod, an ear twitch, something. “Mmhm.” She’s fiddling with her fabrics and doesn’t look up. I turn and walk out the door. I don’t think she notices.
By the time the door has closed behind me, I can’t hold it in anymore and let out a little whine. I just—I just want my sister back.
Why can’t I sleep anymore? I don’t remember any of my dreams, but Fluttershy’s always there when I wake up, asking me what’s wrong. I’m so tired.
After breakfast, I head over to the library. It’s a weekend, but Rarity hasn’t been taking them off. I catch her on her way out and fall in step beside her. She smiles that same empty smile I’ve seen the last few days and blinks her bloodshot eyes.
“Can I help today?” I ask, and she shakes her head.
“I need some time today. I’m sorr—” She quickly looks away and swallows hard. “I hope you’ve been happy staying with Fluttershy.” Her smile’s... real now. I can see a little of the old sparkle in her eye. She’s... glad I’m not staying with her?
We’re passing by Carousel Boutique now, and... wow! I haven’t been back since...
Rainbow Dash and Applejack are doing a great job!
“Thank you so much, girls! That looks wonderful!” Rarity shouts up to where Dash is kicking in the nails on some new shingles.
“We’ll have this done in no time!” Dash yells back over the sound of Applejack’s sawing. She takes off her goggles and swoops down to us. “We’ve got all the damage repaired to the showroom and guest room. Applejack’s just finishing up the interior, then we can hang drywall and paint. Sound good?”
Rarity hugs her and doesn’t say anything for a minute. Finally, she says, “I’ll pay you back. I really will! I’ve got some great ideas already of something to make for you.”
“Shoot, Rarity,” Applejack says as she comes outside, “you don’t owe us nothin’. You’d do the same for us, sugarcube!” Rarity’s eyes have glazed over, and I know that look, too. Her ears aren’t working anymore. “And howdy to you, too,” Applejack adds when she looks at me. I try to smile. Really, it’s hard not to smile back at Applejack, but... has Rarity told her?
“I’ve got something special planned for you as well! A nice denim saddlebag with some hardwood marquetry on the clasp. It would look stunning!” Rarity looks her in the eye and grabs her by the shoulders. “I mean it! I really do appreciate your help.”
“I know, Rarity. But calm down. This ain’t nothin’ to work yourself into a lather over. Friends help friends.” Applejack nods her head and pokes Rarity in the chest with those last three words, but sis still isn’t listening. “Look, we’ll show you ’round once we’re done, but it’s pretty dusty inside.” She takes her hat off and whacks it against her side, sending up a cloud to prove her point.
Sis stifles a sneeze, then nods back and waves up at Dash. She trots off again, but... it’s not toward Sugarcube Corner. “Sis?” I say and stop to point behind me. “Aren’t you going to...?”
She shakes her head and continues on a few paces. “No, I told you I needed some time today. Don’t worry about me. Go find your friends and have some fun.”
What do I do? I just stand rooted to the spot while she hangs her head, and she eventually goes on. She glances back a couple of times, but I haven’t moved. When she’s far enough away, I follow.
We go out past the edge of Ponyville and toward Canterlot. A couple of miles later, she finally trots off the road and through an old graveyard. She winds between all the old markers, and I duck behind a few. When she gets to the open field on the far side, she flops down in the grass near a big tree and rolls onto her back. Wait... Why’s she here? I creep a bit closer, but she isn’t doing anything. Only... looking at the sky. I swear I’ve been here an hour already, and I can’t even tell if she’s still awake.
“You ever stare”—I jump at the sudden voice, and I see Rarity jerk her head over toward it, too—“up into that blue so long that you can’t see anything else? Like you feel you’re floating up to it?”
Rarity holds a hoof to her chest and looks over on the other side of that big tree, where there’s a gray mare also lying in the grass. “Oh, hello,” sis says. “Octavia, isn’t it?”
The gray mare nods. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you’d see me over here.”
“I... guess so. Maybe a little. I guess I’ve just never paid attention,” Rarity says as she flops back on the ground.
“Hm?”
“About staring at the sky.”
“Oh.” Octavia starts tapping a rear hoof on the ground and folds her forelegs behind her head. “Sometimes I wish I could. Just float up and away, that is. It seems like there must be something better up there."
Wow. I don’t even... Rarity just lies there, too, with her mouth hanging open. Her ears perk up toward Octavia, and she says, “You’re... a musician. From Canterlot, right?” Octavia nods again, but after a pause, like when Diamond Tiara asks me something, and I don’t know which answer will give me more trouble. “You seem to do alright for yourself.”
Octavia shakes her head and sniffles. I can see Rarity’s back stiffen at the sound, but she relaxes again when Octavia starts chuckling. “I can’t complain. That doesn’t seem to stop me, though.”
“Is—is something wrong, dear?” Rolling on her side, Rarity props her head up.
Octavia closes her eyes, tilts her chin straight up, and sighs. “No... No. I'm sorry. I sound like a spoiled brat. It’s pathetic.” She gets to her hooves and starts walking back toward Canterlot.
“Wait!” Rarity calls after her. “If you need to talk to somepony...”
As she continues on her way, Octavia hangs her head and lets her ears droop.
I can’t believe what I just heard! Rarity feels sorry for a stranger and immediately wants to help. But she won’t say more than a few words to her own sister? I’m the one who needs you, sis! Please...
Great. Now I’m blubbering like a foal, and Rarity probably hears—
I look around, but sis is gone, already on her way back to Ponyville.
I’ve been back at school a couple of days now, but I’m still so sleepy all the time. Fluttershy wants to help, but all I can ever remember about the dreams is that the room feels so hot. She nods, but I don’t think she understands it, either. She tells me that I’m safe and everything is okay. Of course I’m safe. What could go wrong at Fluttershy’s?
Anyway, I’m headed there now, but first I’m stopping by the library one more time. Maybe tonight I can tell her. Maybe tonight I can sleep.
I go in the front door, and find sis working, as usual. “Hi,” I say. Stupid! Don’t just stand there looking at her! Why can’t I think of more than two things to say to her, and I can’t say the one that matters?
“Oh. Hi,” she says with that forced smile. “I finished Applejack’s saddlebag. What do you think?” She levitates it in front of me.
It really is pretty! Green denim, and there are embroidered red apples stitched all over it. “Applejack’s going to love it!”
For a few seconds, sis grins and giggles, but she catches herself, and her face falls. Her eyes, too—she can barely keep them open. “You can’t keep up like this.” I can’t believe she’d let those bags show under her eyes, but they’ve been there for days.
She waves a hoof at me. “Nonsense. I simply can’t let my clients down. And I must do something to repay our friends. It’s only proper.”
Twilight comes out of the kitchen, and Rarity notices her when she passes by. “Oh, Twilight, I’ve been speaking with someone lately, and... Well, do you have any books on psychology?”
With a hoof covering her smile, Twilight jerks her head toward the bookshelf behind sis. “Fiction is over there.” She’s having trouble holding in her laughter, but Rarity just arches an eyebrow at her. I don’t know. I don’t get it, either.
“Sorry,” Twilight says. “They really are on that shelf, though.” She points again, but that twinkle’s still in her eye as she keeps another giggle inside.
Twilight’s halfway up the stairs now, and as long as Rarity is distracted from her sewing, I figure I’ll try again. “But sis—”
“I’m awfully busy, and you’ve got school tomorrow. You really should get to bed.” Her head’s down, absorbed in her work again.
“I’m sorry...” A shiver runs down my back at hearing myself say that, but... I can’t stand this. I build up what courage I can and take a deep breath. “Rarity, I’m sorry—”
“It’s no trouble, dear. You aren’t bothering me. You do need to get to sleep, though.”
I snort and hold myself back from stomping a hoof on the floor. I hate this! My own sister. I can’t talk to my own sister. A few seconds later, I’m walking down the street to Fluttershy’s house.
It seems like a regular routine now. Leaving school, taking a walk to Sugarcube Corner, and standing there like a dummy until Rarity tells me to leave. I’m gonna do it today. I really am. Yeah, right. Just like all those other days I really was.
I walk in the front door and squeeze my eyes shut. It doesn’t matter. I know the way.
“Number thirty-eight? Box of raspberry tarts?” I hear Pinkie call out. To the right, between the first two dress racks, and...
“Rarity, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left the oven on, I’m sorry I caused the fire, I’m sorry it took me so long to talk to you, and—” I raise my head and open my eyes. There’s only an empty chair.
“Oh, are you looking for Rarity?” Mrs. Cake says from behind me. “She saw that—” she points at a beautiful sequined gown with a few wads of chewing gum stuck to it “—and started crying. Poor dear. She’s still all out of sorts.”
“I know.” I’m trying so hard, but I can’t hold my mouth steady anymore, and I can feel a few tears trickling down my cheeks. “And it’s my fault.”
Mrs. Cake wraps a foreleg around my shoulders and rubs my mane. “No, Sweetie Belle! You didn’t do anything wrong.” At least Rarity hasn’t been telling everypony what I did. “She said she needed to take some time to herself. She probably went back to the library.”
Bending down, she looks me in the eye for a second, but then turns her head away. “She does need to talk to you, but... just don’t forget that she loves you.” Mrs. Cake gives me a little squeeze.
And the next instant, I’m back out in the roadway. I know where Rarity’s gone.
From all the way over at the graveyard’s entrance, I can already see Rarity’s purple mane under that tree again. Octavia is there, too, but they’re sitting right beside each other this time. Good thing they’re facing away from me! I sneak up again behind the same old moss-covered headstone I used last time, but they’re not in the same spot—I can barely hear what they’re saying.
I lean around the side and poke my head forward, but it’s all still just mumbling. There are only a couple of rows of graves left between us, so I creep up through them. One of sis’s ears flicks toward me once. I don’t think she heard me, though. She doesn’t stop talking.
“...glad you’re feeling a little better, dear, but have you talked to anypony?”
Octavia shakes her head and sighs. “Who? Besides, you’re rather easy to talk to. Anypony ever tell you that?” She cracks a smile and looks at Rarity.
“I can’t say they have. In fact, quite the opposite lately, it seems.” Sis is looking at something out of the corner of her eye, but I can’t—
I duck back behind the headstone. Did she see me? I need to be more careful!
“But please continue. You were trying to figure it out the other day?” Rarity asks while she scratches the back of her head with a hoof.
“Do you feel”—Octavia sweeps a hoof around at the meadow—“sometimes like what you want is just beyond your reach? You're not even sure what it is, but it seems so close?”
Rarity nods even before Octavia finishes speaking. “Yes, I know something of that.” I can hear that hollowness in her voice, but at least it’s not flat. I’d give anything if she’d say something to me like that.
“I flipped through every page of sheet music I own. Started playing a bunch. Got as much as halfway through a few.” Octavia glances at the dirt beside her and scrapes a hoof across it. “I can’t find what I want. Nothing says what I need to say. It feels like I’m only going through the motions.”
“Have you considered just speaking, then?” Rarity asks, causing Octavia to wrinkle her forehead. “You know, when I first started out, it was so much fun to sew patterns, follow embroidery diagrams, stitch dress forms. There’s certainly honor in doing so, but for some ponies, learning the language is not enough. I’m sure you love the smiles that your performances create—” she waits until a faint grin forms on Octavia’s face “—but you’re repeating somepony else’s words. In a beautiful and individual way, to be sure, but they remain another’s speech.”
Octavia’s gaze jerks over to Rarity. “That’s exactly it.” She’s whispering, and I can barely make it out. “I take it you’ve been there before,” she says with a laugh.
Nodding, sis holds up a hoof and snorts. “That I have. But you’ve already made your own point. ‘Nothing says what I need to say.’ Simply put: say it yourself. It was a wonderful sensation the first time I created an original design. It wasn’t perfect, but it was mine. So... have you considered writing your own music?”
“I... It’s a different skill set, but...” Octavia watches the wind blowing the grass for a minute. “That’s... a rather elegant solution. Provided I can pull it off, of course.”
Rarity stretches a leg over and puts a hoof on Octavia’s shoulder. “Don’t go it alone. Certainly, in your social circles, you must know many ponies who can give you advice or help.”
“You’ve certainly given me a lot to think about. I guess it’s enough to know that somepony else understands.” After taking a deep breath, Octavia gets to her hooves. Rarity rises, too, and they share a quick hug.
Just seeing that—my chest is tingling, and I think back to the other night when I asked for one. I don’t care anymore that sis doesn’t mean it. I’d still take it. To reach around her neck, stuff my nose in her mane, smell her perfume.
“And you’re going to tone it down with those gifts you’re making everypony, right?” Octavia adds.
With a sharp nod, Rarity answers, “Yes. I still intend to make them, but all in good time. I don’t think they’ll mind.”
I told sis earlier today. I said I was sorry. She wasn’t there, but I didn’t know that when I said it. I still told her. I can do it again.
My eyes are closed as I suck in a breath, and then—
I’ll do it tomorrow. I slump down against the cold stone.
It’s the weekend again, so I don’t know why I have to be up this early, but Fluttershy is leading me out the door after nearly stuffing a few waffles down my throat. “C’mon!” she urges, and she must be serious—she’s actually flying. I trot along and keep up as best I can.
“Where are we going?” I ask, and Fluttershy rolls her eyes around for a minute before breaking into a big smile.
“It’s finished!”
“Wha—?” I stop dead in my tracks and can’t help but share her grin. “Rarity will be so happy! I can’t wait to give her a hug...” My smile fades as a chill runs down my spine.
When she sees my face, she stops as well. “Oh, dear. She hasn’t spoken with you yet?”
I look up at her, and my eyes are wide open. I can feel my cheeks burning. She does know. Why is she being so nice to me?
“Oh...” she says. I fiddle with my hooves as I wait for her to do something, and she finally starts toward town again, a little more slowly now. I’m keeping pace with an easy canter.
When we get to Carousel Boutique, Rarity hasn’t shown up yet. I wait around outside for a minute next to a great-smelling table of cupcakes, and Pinkie gives me a nudge in the ribs. She shifts her eyes right and left, then sucks down a chocolate-frosted one and winks at me. Next thing I know, another is sliding across the table at me, and I have to eat it to keep it from falling on the ground. No use letting it go to waste.
“I reckon I’d better go ahead and give you the grand tour,” Applejack says, pulling her hat’s brim down. “O’ course, you know the place better’n I do. Go on. See if you can spot anything different.”
Applejack stays behind as I go in. Only parts of the showroom, Rarity’s washroom, and my r—er, the guest room—needed to be rebuilt. I can’t tell that anything’s changed, but the paint does seem a bit whiter. They’ve already moved everything back from the library and Sugarcube Corner. They’ve also left me alone in here.
I don’t want to stay inside for long. It just feels like Rarity should have been first, and... I’m not really ready to remember. I’m about to go back downstairs when I hear sis’s voice outside.
“I’m terribly sorry, but I needed to get that last bit of piping done. Oh, it looks spectacular!”
“Heh. No problem,” Dash says. I try to see them out the window of my—of the guest room, but they’re too far around the front of the building.
“’Tweren’t nothin’, sugarcube! We were happy to help.”
“Of course, I’ll be finishing up the gifts I promised everypony, but... it may take me a little while to do so.” Octavia had said something like that yesterday, but I... Did Rarity actually listen to her?
“You don’t have to do that,” Twilight says, and I can imagine Pinkie Pie standing next her, nodding so hard that her mane is flopping all around.
A minute later, I hear a few hoofsteps inside the front door, then slowly moving to the stairs. I’ve been here enough times to count them. One, two, three. Then the creaky one. I don’t even keep track anymore. I just know what the full flight sounds like, and she’s at the top now. What’ll she say? Especially here? My heart’s racing, but I didn’t notice it getting that way. She’s coming down the hall now, and I’m fighting to keep my lips straight. Right outside the door, and I can’t fight it anymore. I let the corners of my mouth fall, and the tears are rolling down my cheeks.
Finally, Rarity steps into my—the guest room, stupid! It’ll never be mine again! Her jaw drops when she sees me. I’m trying so hard to stop crying, but my whole body is shaking now. “Can I—C-can I please have a hug?” I squeak.
Her face is blank, but not the bored kind where her eyes are halfway shut—it’s the kind where she’s controlling it as hard as she can. I’ve seen it enough times before. After what feels like an hour, she gives me a little nod, and I rush her. I clamp my forelegs around her neck and press my cheek against her soft coat. “I’m sorry, Rarity! I’m so sorry! I should have said it a long time ago, and I tried, but I couldn’t, so I—” I have to pause for breath, and I take a great big sniffle.
I look up, and she’s got her forehead wrinkled up. “You’re sorry?” she says. She’s not smiling. Oh, Celestia! She’s not going to forgive me!
I gasp when I feel her hoof rubbing the back of my neck, then wrap around me to give me a squeeze. “It’s time we had a talk,” she says and gives me the first real smile I’ve seen from her since... before. “Come with me.”
We walk downstairs and out the front door together, and her friends are staring. “We’re going somewhere to talk,” she tells them, and they all relax a bit. I look back as we pass them, and Fluttershy is grinning at me. She waves a wingtip.
I follow Rarity, and before long, I know where we’re going. A few miles of silence, through an old graveyard and a short distance out into the field.
Octavia’s eyes light up when she sees Rarity, but when she notices me, too, she mouths an “ah” and gets up to leave. “I’m just heading back,” she says as she passes us in the other direction. “This must be Sweetie Belle!”
I shake her hoof as Rarity replies. “How did it work out?”
“Good. I’ll be in touch.”
Sis tosses her mane and gets a twinkle in her eyes. “That’s wonderful news! I’ll make you a dress, but of course it’s going to take a little while. I won’t take no for an answer.”
As Octavia trots off, Rarity points over by the tree. “Or if you’d rather take your usual spot behind the gravestones...”
My jaw drops as I plop down in the grass. “You knew?”
She nods and smiles a bit, but soon she takes a deep breath. “I’ve been coming here every couple of days. Anyway, I owe you an explanation, Sweetie Belle.” I swallow hard and wait for it. “I... haven’t been sleeping well. I keep having nightmares. That I leave—” she bites her lip and looks at the ground “—I leave you behind to save my dresses. I was completely irresponsible.”
“I have dreams, too,” I say. “That’s what Fluttershy told me, anyway. I don’t remember any, except... it’s hot. And then I wake up with Fluttershy asking me what I was yelling about.”
Sis starts rubbing her nose and wipes at an eye, and... I lose it. Before I know it, I’m crying again, and it’s all pouring out. “I’m sorry! It was all my fault! I left the oven on after I cooked you dessert, and I caused everything! Please don’t hate me! I know you already figured it out and were waiting for me to admit it. I tried. I really did! But I just couldn’t...”
She raises my chin with a hoof. “You thought it was your fault?” She sinks to her haunches and pulls me close. “No,” she keeps repeating, shaking her head. “No. I’ve made this all worse for you because I couldn’t deal with it myself. I should have taken my own advice rather than let things stew. ‘Simply put: say it yourself.’”
“Sweetie Belle,” she states, looking me in the eye. “I saw the oven. I turned it off before I came up to bed. You didn’t notice that there wasn’t any damage to the kitchen?”
My breath catches in my throat. Is it true? Yeah, Applejack and Dash didn’t have to do anything to the kitchen.
Looking away from me, Rarity pats my shoulder. “Can you forgive me? For not talking with you sooner, and because that made you think you were to blame?” She’s got teardrops trickling down her cheeks.
“Yes! That all I ever wanted! Just for things to be back to the way they were!” I cry, jumping at her. It takes a while for us both to calm back down, but I don’t care. It’s back. It’s all back. Her smile, the light in her eyes, a real hug. It’s back.
“Well... what did cause the fire, then?”
Sis suddenly starts shuddering, and I can’t tell whether she’s laughing or crying. I think it’s both.
“I left, “ she chokes out through a couple of sobs, “a candle burning downstairs.” Now, she’s definitely laughing, so hard that she’s having trouble talking. “A stress-relief... candle!” I can’t help but join in, and we both lie there shaking on the ground for several long minutes.
Rarity is sitting next to me, and we both have on our finest dresses. I smile up at sis—she’s wearing the hat I helped her make last week and the earrings I gave her for her birthday this year. And I have on a shawl that she just finished making for me yesterday.
There are some jumbled voices still going around the room, but they’re dying out since the intermission is almost over. A few more ponies crawl past us to get to their seats. Another minute later, the house lights dim.
From the far side of the stage, a stallion in a tuxedo walks out, and the musicians warm up their instruments again. We’ve got great seats in the front row, where I can smell wood and old paper from the string players on stage.
It’s Octavia! We all stomp our applause as she comes from backstage, bows, and takes the chair out in front of the orchestra. When the hoofbeats quiet down, she clears her throat.
“Before our final piece, I’d like to thank Rarity”—I beam up at sis and poke her in the shoulder as she blushes—“for this wonderful dress and for some good advice. And now may I present the premiere of a new concerto, co-written by me and my colleague, Vocalise. It’s titled ‘Breaking the Silence.’ I hope you enjoy it.” Octavia holds her bow up and fixes her eyes on the conductor.
Before the first beat, Rarity leans over and whispers to me, “Simply put: say it yourself.”
It was incredibly dark, wherever she was. Aside from the bright red ground beneath her hooves there was nothing else that was immediately visible. No trees, no plants, not even anything resembling ground beyond the lit path she was on.
“Hello? Is anyone there?”
No reply. Just as well, seeing how she was the only living thing there at all. No point in standing around, she thought to herself, before trotting ahead along the crimson path. A glance behind her showed vast darkness, so going forward was the only option.
“What kind of place is this? How did I even get here?”
Questions upon questions filled her mind, and not even a single reference book on magical anomalies around to consult. For minutes that seemed like miles she trotted on, becoming tired of the endless path but at the same time kept awake by its incessant lighting.
“When is this going to end?”
Not three seconds after asking that did a change in color appear: stark blue. Before her was a swath of azure laid out like a small plaza, and behind that rose up a large, misshapen structure, which when looked at a specific angle looked like some disfigured apple. But again, only from a particular angle; otherwise it just looked big and awful, she mentally added.
“Finally,” she sighed in relief. “What is this place?”
“Halt!”
Dropping in front of her there appeared a blur of pink, covered in a red dress and sporting a bendy-looking scythe as well as a rather plain sunhat.
“Pinkie Pie?”
“Hee hee, hey Twilight!” the new arrival replied. “I've always wanted to say something like that in a serious way. Did I sound menacing? Did I, did I??”
Twilight, understandably, was at a loss for seeing her friend in such a place. Despite her shock, she mustered enough will to speak. “Pinkie? What... what are you doing here? And why are you dressed like that?”
“I'm guarding the manor, obviously! Or is it mansion? Eh, to-may-to, to-mah-to. And this is the standard gatekeeper uniform. Not very colorful and pretty plain, but it certainly looks intimidating, huh?”
“Uh, not really...” Twilight's eyes focused on the sharp harvesting tool slung over her friend's shoulder. “That thing looks pretty dangerous, Pinkie. Where'd you find that?”
“Are you serious, Twilight? It's clearly my weapon! What self-respecting gatekeeper fights unarmed? You're supposed to be smart, Twi. Tsk tsk.”
“Why are you being a gatekeeper? For that matter, what is this place, and where are we exactly?”
“One at a time, sheesh! Anyway, this is the manor mansion house of my master, and I'm supposed to keep outsiders, well, out. This place is off limits to the likes of mortals.”
“Huh? Pinkie, you're not making any sense. Tell me what this place is, and who's this mas-”
“Enough questions; we fight now!”
In a blink, Pinkie spun and tossed her scythe straight at Twilight, who barely had time to duck, letting the blade cut the edge of her tail in passing. Standing up, Twilight stomped a hoof in insult. “Pinkie, what are you WHOA!” She ducked again as the scythe came spinning back over her, returning to its owner, who deftly snatched it with her teeth. “How'd you do that?”
“It's an extra special come-around scythe! Pretty neat, huh? Now raise your guard and other battle talk!”
Pinkie giggled as tiles from the plaza floor rose up, spun, then shot at Twilight. The unicorn yelped as she ducked, rolled and leapt over the tiling that crashed all around her. “Stop this, Pinkie!”
“No-kie dokie, loki! Ya gotta fight back, otherwise it's not a battle!”
“I don't want to battle you!”
“Then die in peace old buddy, tee hee hee!” Pinkie tossed her spinning scythe right back at Twilight, who once again ducked out of the way. As it returned back the way it came, a field of magic snagged it from the air and brought it down to the harried librarian.
“That's enough! You're stopping this RIGHT NOW!”
“Nuh-uh!” Pinkie bounced defiantly. “The fighting don't stop till one of us drops. Now give me back my scythe.”
“Okay, you can have it!” With a flick of the horn, Twilight flung the scythe right at Pinkie Pie, who got donked in the temple by the end of the wooden shaft. A moment later the perky gatekeeper went off in a loud, flashy explosion that shook the very ground, and was no more. Twilight's lower jaw immediately dropped; what did she do!?
“PINKIEEE!!!!”
“What, Twilight? I'm right here.”
Through the tears in her eyes, Twilight looked down and saw Pinkie lying flat on the ground, wearing a dopey smile and looking perfectly okay. “B-B-But you just exploded! Violently at that!”
“I got better.” Pinkie made a sigh. “Just relax, Twilight. It's only part of the theatrics of combat here.”
“Pinkie, what is going-”
“Anyway, you can go into the mansion now,” Pinkie said, while lazily waving a hoof at the doorway that had just appeared. “The very special thing is waiting in there.”
“Wait, what very special thing? Why won't you give me a clear answer about what this is all about?”
“I said all I am obligated to, Twilight; the rest is up to you,” Pinkie said plainly. “Now I must lie here and reflect upon my defeat... after I take a nap!”
For some reason, Twilight felt compelled to stand around a few seconds longer, perhaps out of utter confusion over what just happened and what Pinkie had been rambling about. Ultimately, she just turned her eyes and went forward, stepping over her snoozing friend and into the door of the manor.
Disappointingly, the interior of the manor was very plain and very empty. In fact, it was really just a long hallway with a carpet and wallpaper painted in... more red. Luckily there were some patterns of black inlaid in the décor, so it didn't hurt Twilight's eyes too badly. As before, the long trek became dull pretty quick. So much so that she didn't notice that she stepped into complete darkness before she was fifty yards in.
“WHUH!?” She freaked out briefly, but quickly calmed down when she realized she wasn't falling away or being sucked into some endless void. In fact, she could still see the red hallway behind her.
“So I'm still in the mansion,” she deduced, rubbing a hoof on her chin. “But why is it so dark?”
“So I can spring MY TRAP!”
A white flash blinded Twilight, and rubbing her eyes clear of the light she frantically looked around but immediately spotted the culprit: a familiar blue-coated unicorn wearing an unmistakable star-patterned hat and cape ensemble. Oddly, she recognized, the hat and cape were actually black rather than blue, though the star colors remained the same.
“A-ha! The Great and Powerful Trixie pulls off yet another grand entrance!” the caped unicorn boasted.
“All you did was blind me.”
“Blinded you with Trixie's amazing talent, stuffy bookworm!”
“What are you doing here, Trixie?”
“Trixie could ask you the same, if I cared. No, rather, Trixie has come to claim the great power that lies within these walls, for it promises greater magic!”
“Wait, do you mean the 'very special thing'?”
“What are you babbling on about? The power Trixie speaks of is you, Twilight Sparkle!”
“What!?”
“By defeating you in this mystical place, Trixie can absorb your power and become the greatest magician in all of Equestria! Nay, the UNIVERSE! Only then shall everypony bow down to me with love and adoration, and thus my revenge and my dream can be accomplished at the same time!”
“This is ridiculous, Trixie! Whatever this place is, it clearly makes ponies go crazy. We have to get out of here.”
“Enough talk, Sparkle!” Some nifty lightning effects went off. “Prepare yourself for a Great and Powerful defeat!”
Trixie stood on her hindlegs and waved her forelimbs around, conjuring a hail of stars to fall down upon Twilight. The poor heroine moved about the falling stars, getting poked and bonked by twinkling doom.
“My new star magic shall become your casket, eternal rival! A-haha!”
“I never agreed to being a rival with you! Ow!” Having enough of the stellar bombardment, Twilight conjured a force field around her that deflected the remaining stars. Upon dropping the field, her eyes widened at seeing four differently-colored orbs spinning around Trixie.
“Impressed? These defense orbs make all attacks against Trixie useless! The perfect tool for any and all Great and Powerful magicians, yet simple enough for any ordinary magicians to use!” With a flick of her hoof, Trixie dispersed the orbs, which regrouped around Twilight and spun around, entrapping her. “They even work great for trapping stupid wannabes!” Putting her hooves together, Trixie charged up before firing a stream of purple energy balls right at Twilight.
Twilight squeezed through the projectiles, moving around the enclosed space as best as she could. Amidst the chaos, she noticed a glimmer from the orbs, and to her surprise she discovered that a tenuous thread connected all four orbs together, keeping them rotating around one another. Thinking on her hooves, Twilight lit up her horn and reached out for the barely-visible thread, and touching upon something she pulled.
An audible snap filled the air as the orbs broke formation and shot away, ricocheting off the walls, floor and ceiling, forcing the unicorns to duck and cover. When the orbs finally bounce away toward the red hall, Trixie stood up and wiped her brow, only to realize that her signature hat was gone. Taken away by one of the rogue orbs, much to her horror.
“NOOOOO!! Trixie's source of power, LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOST!!!!!!”
The hatless braggart blew up in a spectacular triple explosion that shook the hall and perhaps even the fabric of reality itself. Once things settled down, Trixie laid on the black ground, glum and looking very pouty. “No fair... I was so close to defeating you.”
Twilight felt a tad sympathetic for a moment, but more concerning matters returned to her thoughts. “Listen, I don't know what's going on, but I'll get to the bottom of this madness. And I believe the 'very special thing' is the key to explaining it.”
“Trixie doesn't care,” Trixie pouted. “Go find your stupid thing. Maybe it'll be lousy hat, fit for a boring pony such as you. But mark my words, Sparkle: this isn't over. Trixie will have my revenge, someday. Perhaps, one day more...”
“Please don't start, Trixie.”
“Start what? Stop having weird ideas, you nerd.”
Again Twilight felt the compulsion to just stand in place for a few extra seconds before shaking her head back into focus and tiptoeing over the sobbing magician. Something was very wrong about this place, that much she knew. But would she be able to unravel this enigma before it got to her like the other two? She sincerely prayed for it.
This was certainly a change in scenery. Rather than a red path or a red hallway, Twilight was seemingly walking over air itself. Below her were several light-blue platforms with hexagrams set into them, with streams of light that looked like meteorites sailing by. Pretty serene in all regards, but it only unsettled Twilight's mind more. What logic was there to this mansion? Was it even a mansion anymore? As if to answer her questions, an unforgettable laugh ripped through the air.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! Very good, Twilight; you made it to me!”
In a shower of light and pollen there appeared before Twilight a hideous amalgamation of animal parts that could only be labeled as a draconequus. Further to her horror, it wore a red checkered pair of pants and blouse, wore a green wig and held a large frilly parasol in its right talon. A truly disturbing sight if there ever was one, but seeing the monster flicked a switch in Twilight's noggin. It finally made sense!
“Discord!” She took a brave stance. “Of course it had to be you. only you could make something as insane as this place, as well as manipulate ponies into acting waaaaay out of character!”
“Well bravo, dearest Twilight, for figuring out the obvious,” Discord teased. “Although my sweet gatekeeper acted out of her own volition.”
“What did you say?”
“You give your friend too little credit, Twilight.” Discord chuckled. “Though she makes for lousy security, her love and practice of chaos makes her a pony after my own heart. But don't ever tell her that. I'm not ready for a committed relationship just yet, hahahahaha!”
“That's enough!” Twilight stomped a hoof. “Whatever it is you're doing, to me or my friends or to whomever, stop it right now!”
“Awwww, but why do you want to stop it now, when you're so close to the finish?” Discord did a twirl with his parasol before assuming a flashy pose. “The very special thing is just over yonder, and the only thing standing between you and it is little ol' moi. Do you seriously want to give up when there's just one last challenger to beat?”
“I'm being serious, Discord! You've caused enough trouble as it is; this isn't some kind of game!”
“AND WHY SHOULDN'T IT BE?” The platforms below shook and cracked from the ferocity of Discord's query. “You, Miss-Oh-So-Serious, you're already playing a game with the truth, against yourself, and most despicable of all, against your feelings. Admitting something outright is soooo boring, so why not make some play out of it? But unlike your skewed idea of a game, mine is apparent and actually fun, and like any great game, there's a final boss waiting at the end. So get ready, darling!” He gripped his parasol like a pole arm, pointing it right at the unicorn. “Taste victory, or sleep with regret that will leave sleepless!”
Discord opened the parasol, unleashing a shower of searing pellets that obscured Twilight's sight as she erected a shield. When the attack cleared, she looked and gasped at the sight of two oddly-dressed Discords.
“Oh dear, two of me? Which is the real one? Ha ha ha.”
In synch, the two Discords raised their parasols and pointed them at Twilight, firing a disparate hail of yellow spikes before simultaneously vanishing. After avoiding the spikes, Twilight watched as the Discords rematerialized overhead side-by-side, pointing down their parasols to fire two large beams of devastating magic. Twilight rolled back from the death beams, and halting on her rump she aimed her horn and fired a magic burst at the Discord on the right, resulting in a dinging sound as the two vanished again.
They reappeared far from each other the next moment, with one of them laughing. “The correct answer: it's BOTH!” One Discord exploded while the other became a ball of light that danced around, firing waves of projectiles and a homing laser at the weary unicorn. Twilight dodged the attacks and fired, but her magic only passed through the ball, so she focused entirely on defense. After some moments the attacks ceased and the ball of light reformed into the draconequus, who held his closed parasol high.
“I say it's time for the finale! Can you handle it?” He brought down the parasol and opened it, spinning it to send a flood of projectiles and assorted harmful materials onto his opponent. With so much coming down around her, Twilight knew she couldn't hold a shield for long, leaving her just one option: attack! Looking up at the Master of Chaos, Twilight fired magic burst after magic burst at him, moving through the bullet curtain as best she could. Scrapes and burns appeared over her body, but she kept on the attack, gritting her teeth as her eyes burned in intense, desperate focus. As the last of her energy ran out, her ears were rewarded with a crackling followed by a glorious explosion that dispelled the projectiles and obliterated the platforms below.
Twilight breathed heavily, focusing on standing in the wake of the battle. Through her frayed mane she saw Discord, standing with tattered clothes and a torn parasol. The chaotic being looked over the ruined accessory and opened it a few times before groaning and tossing it aside, where it wailed a cat screech. Turning to Twilight, his face lit up as he gave the biggest grin possible.
“Guess who's a winner: you are! Congratulations!” Discord chuckled good-heartedly, while Twilight just stared at him blankly with fatigue. “As advertised, I present to you, your very special thing.”
In a poof he was gone, but shortly after a glow reached Twilight's eyes. As the glow became brighter and took on form, she straightened her neck and widened her gaze. The light that approached her was of divine figure, with wings of platinum and such great inner warmth that in its presence all of Twilight's weariness melted away. In the face of such beauty she was stunned, elated, left speechless but filled with indescribable joy.
“This is it, right? The very special thing you always wanted?” Discord asked, popping up from behind Twilight and leaning against her face. “Someone you've longed desired, but could never say those heartfelt words to, either out of respect or out of fear. But there's no needs for words here, my dear. Just your feelings laid bare for them to see, without question, without conduct.” He ran a talon down Twilight's cheek. “Besides, actions speak far louder than words, and after what you've done today, I say you've won them over. Plus, I have a feeling they feel just the same. Now make it happen!” Another poof, he was gone.
The goddess now stood over Twilight. Her weakness from earlier started to creep back into her legs, but she fought it back without turning from the divine one's gaze. Rather than back down like before, hide, pretend, she gulped down the last of her indecision and reached up to her heart's desire. Placing her hooves tenderly on their visage, raising her muzzle, letting her eyes close slowly as the two drew nearer. Nearer, nearer to completeness...
Twilight's eyes fluttered open as the shock of wakefulness hit her. A cursory glance around showed that she was in her bedroom at the library, and it was a little past noon judging by the amount of sunlight and the birds chirping outside. She moved her head over to the side and found that she was on her bed, and next to her were a mess of quills, scrolls and opened historical texts. Seemed the all-nighters had finally caught up to her, but luckily it hadn't occurred when she was out on the town. Some relief for sure, but it didn't ease the burning in her chest, the fervent images that flitted through her half-sleeping mind. It certainly didn't stop the intense realization that gnawed at her psyche.
She gave a huff and remained lying on the bed, eyes half-opened, unmoving. There was a lot of thinking that needed to be done, and she was comfortable where she was.
My big brother’s staring at me with a look I’ve never seen on his face before. It’s disquieting to see him hurting like this. My vocabulary is larger than any pony in Equestria’s, short of maybe Celestia herself. I still don’t know the words to get rid of that look. I wish I did, but I’m certain I don’t. I’ve combined a thousand phrases, every consoling speech I’ve ever read in a slapdash mental experiment, but none of them seem to fit. There’s hardly anything from my own heart I could say.
It’s an unusual feeling, and I’m not sure there’s anypony I can say I share it with. To see someone you care about so dearly in a state of distress, and academically, factually understanding that pain. But you can’t, you don’t share it. There’s a disconnect, and your own feelings are different on a fundamental level that you’ll never be able to bridge to theirs.
He opens the door for me, and I step through. I’d been anticipating this moment since I’d heard the news. I wasn’t excited, nor was I fearful. It was something like dread, and yet not quite. A heavy trembling gripped my heart, and held it higher than where it should have rested in my chest. It’s still gripping it like that now, and I have a tremendous urge to swallow. Maybe the motion will force the muscle back down. It doesn’t.
I glance around the room. I’m not ready for why I’m here yet, I decide. It’s a very nice room, and I muse that they likely could not have chosen a better one. The walls are green, and mix quite nicely with the reds and magentas they chose to complement them. I think magenta was her favorite color… but I don’t really remember. There are a few tables against the back wall, and they’re holding up vases full of lilacs and tulips and happy flowers that don’t belong here. There’s a tacky painting of a cottage in the woods hanging over a fireplace. But between me and that tacky picture is the reason I’m here. I step closer to the little table they’ve set up, but I keep a fair distance. I’m not sure why. I look at the pony laying on it, eyes closed and face disturbingly serene.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here. So I talk.
“Hi, Mom.”
Of course she doesn’t answer. Dead ponies don’t talk back if you get the bright idea to try and start a conversation. I examine her body coldly, and feel a retch building in my throat. I hold it down. The embalmers did… nice? Are you supposed to compliment them for this? It’s a horrible job, and I don’t envy their duties in the slightest. I suppose they did the best they could, but this doesn’t look like Mom. It’s missing… it’s missing Mom. I’d barely seen her outside of the occasional holiday. The last time I lived in a house with my parents was almost a decade ago, now. But I still remember her smile, and her warm eyes.
Her eyes are closed now. Maybe that’s what’s off? Or it’s her muzzle. Her lips are frozen in something revolting. Not a smile, but not a frown. A terrifying no-man’s-land between emotions that reeks of inequine nature.
She’s been dressed in her nicest gown. I suppose one must look their best on every important day in their life. Even the last. I can’t help but question it though. I come to the conclusion it’s for our benefit. The family’s, I mean; what does she care how she looks? My relatives just need that consolation, something as close to the original as makeup, embalming fluid, and pretty clothes can get. I think about them. My father, my brother, cousins and aunts that I’ve only seen in Hearth’s Warming Eve cards. This is all for them. A macabre parading of a corpse that will somehow assuage their grief. Celestia, that’s awful. Why would I think something like that? Am I angry? Sad?
I look at Mom’s face, and I realize that I’m neither. I’m not feeling… anything. That grip in my chest, I perceive it differently now. There’s no pressure, but an absence of it where emotion should be. I know the conventions, I’m supposed to come in here and have a tearful goodbye with a pony who has already moved on, and left us behind. And before I know it, my bitter words have returned. By the stars, I just don’t know what they expect from me. I was her daughter, her pride and joy they said. I may never have been home, but I was always close to her heart. I don’t know if that’s true. It’s what I’ve been told. In a way I hope that it’s true, but, if it is… I think I pity my own mother.
I can’t help but feel sorry for her. I’m thankful that she could have ever loved me so much, but she hardly ever saw me, or even received confirmation that I was still alive, wherever I was. What could her last years have been like, if I held such a place in her heart? Did she have so little to cling to that I became that sort of idol? Or, princesses forbid, worse, she pushed away the life she had for dreaming of mine?
Tartarus. Mom, what was wrong with you? Why waste your time on me? Whether I meant ill or not, when I was a filly I didn’t even think of you as my mother. That was Princess Celestia. You were a mare who I had known for eight years, and who gave me away so that I could live my life—my real life. I’d thought the life I’d earned was a dream come true, but now what I had before feels like the dream. Some wishy-washy, wobbling and not quite there reality that only sparsely connects with the life I lead now.
This is a horrible goodbye. I came in here to grieve, supposedly, and I go from pitying my own mother to scorning everything she did for me. I didn’t hate you, Mom, please don’t have been thinking that when you went. I loved you very much. But what am I supposed to do? I see everyone else out there crying, weeping, tossing waterfalls from their eyes. But I don’t feel that. That’s not what I’m experiencing. If that’s what I’m supposed to be doing… I just can’t. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m truly sorrier than I think you could ever believe. But I just can’t do it.
Shining Armor, my brother, he was the foal you raised. You were there for every injury to bandage, every talk to give and every crying word to lend an ear to. I had that from you for a few years, but that faded.
I can scarcely remember the last motherly thing you did for me. When I was a little filly, I would have nightmares. Strange, rending things I couldn’t comprehend in the shadows reaching out for me. And I came to you, whimpering and begging to share the bed, just for tonight, for the fifth night in a row. And you smiled, and scooted over, and I’d snuggle up to you and sleep soundly through the night. I knew I was safe.
But it’s an effort. I have to force myself to remember your face, and not my mentor, my second mother. I don’t mean anything by it Mom. I’m not trying to replace you. But… I stopped needing you a long time ago. Everyone out there, I see them crying and I’m not sure what to think. Maybe they still needed you a while longer?
I see a chair here in the corner, set out for me I suppose. I take it and scoot it up beside the table, so I can sit and look at my mother. It still brings that uneasy, nauseous feeling when I look at her. So wrong, so unnatural. Breathe, Mom. You have to breathe, I think, until I’m reminded that she’ll never breathe again. She is no longer a living pony. She’s a glorified porcelain doll, and even if you made it breathe again it would not be her. It’s Mom without Mom. I ponder a moment on the nature of this, clopping my forehooves against one another. What is the body? Water, flesh, bone, metals and minerals and little things you’d never expect. Was that all she was? Is that all I am? No. There was something more. It’s gone now, forever eluding my grip, but I wonder what it was. What were you, Mom?
I’d been standing outside of this room when your sisters came in to say goodbye, Mom. They were all crying together, saying whatever nice things they could think of about you. They all forgot what split them apart until that moment. You couldn’t hear them, but I had heard them. There had been yelling, screaming and fits thrown as they squabbled over your body. Were you to be buried, or cremated, or some other odd fate? They had settled on cremation, but not before this. A final showing, a bit of closure that truthfully wasn’t any closure at all.
I’m not thinking about that. I’m thinking of the spite in their voices and the daggers in their eyes. You died, Mom. You’d think that would bring our family together. If nothing else, the respect you’d earned should set aside their differences for one day. But they couldn't do it. They couldn’t make peace for even a moment, not even for your sake. As the last favor you ever requested, by your demise: the mourning you had deserved. And instead of getting that, you got crocodile tears and hatred hidden behind black veils. How could they do this to you?
It feels like I knew you the least, and yet I’m the only one thinking of you in all this madness. Maybe that’s why you loved me? Why you were so fixated on the distant silhouette that never so much as glanced in your direction? Even if I’d never be able to tell you, to share that pain, you knew that if I had ever learned, I’d have understood your challenges. Living in a family of cutthroats disguised as civilized ponies, begging only for the love a family needed. The love you needed.
I’m sorry, Mom. I failed at so many things. I’m failing now, I can’t even cry for you. But I think, seeing all these ponies sobbing, that I understand why I feel this way. Why I… don’t feel that way, maybe that’s the better answer.
You weren't my teacher, my guide or my confidante. But in a way you were so much more. I’m standing here knowing that when I go home, the dearest friends I could ever ask for will be waiting for me. When I write to my Princess, my mentor and the wonderful pony you sent me to, and she comforts me, I’ll know: it’s all because of you. For all my failures, and your failures, we were there for each other in a different way. You gave me everything that I have, by making the greatest sacrifice a mother could ever make: giving up her child, knowing that she could live a better life than one with you. And even when I was gone, I gave you reprieve from the burdens you shouldered.
I’m sad that you’re gone, but I’m not like the others, gnashing their teeth and crying. They still needed you, still wanted you. They wanted eternity from you, more than you could ever give. But before I had even begun to grow, and understand your gifts, you had given me more than I could ever have asked for. Thank you, so much, Mom. You gave me life, and then you gave me my life. I’m sad that you’re gone, but I can accept it. I mean in this in the greatest, sincerest way, no matter how it sounds:
I don’t need you. Because of the wonderful mother you were to put yourself through that one act, I don’t need you, and I can move on.
I smile, and although I cannot bring myself to kiss the body’s cheek, I know she would understand my intentions.
“I love you, Mom.”
I turn away, and I step back outside. The others will be waiting for me, and they will cry yet more. And they’ll react differently. Some will hate me, that I do not weep for you. And some will call me strong, that I can move past this. But it’s not about strength. I know that, and you would have known that. They’ll never understand what we do.
Goodbye.
Your daughter, who always did and always will love you,
The ash of my bedroom burned. The mattress and sheets were piles of hot dust, which I awoke, covered in. It burnt, but the pain was diminished by my sense of fatigue. With a sigh, I pulled myself from the room. It always began like this.
The rest of the castle fared no better. The white walls, once pristine and beautiful, were now a charred black mess, struggling to support the dilapidated roof. The ceiling was riddled with holes, through which sickening red light poured into. The areas on the floor the light touched sizzled and melted, turning into molten slag. The entrance has been fused together, leaving me to fly out through the holes in the roof. Reluctantly, I pulled myself from the ground, and towards the sky. I fought through the pain of the sizzling this time, and gracefully exited the interior of the castle. The heat had turned my wings into blackened remains, as they curled up and dried on my sides. No way down now but a jump.
Even with a roll, the landing hurt, the bones in my legs shaking with the impact. I rose to my feet, keeping my gaze on the dirt. Even the low amount of reflected light off the dirt stung my eyes, and dried them at an alarming rate. I spent more time blinking than I did seeing as I walked.
The castle fell behind me eventually, disappearing in the heat and mist. It was just me and the red landscape now, not including the dust, ashes or heat. The hair on my back burned and regrew, my mane also sizzling and reforming. The coat of sweat I perspired helped to dull the burn, even if it evaporated in milliseconds.
I risked a glance upwards, and only sand greeted me. This wasteland was lonely, no matter how many times I made this escapade. The lone howl of wind carried dead words on them, mumbled and forgotten by me, by everyone. A sinking feeling in my gut told me something was off, and again, I glanced upwards.
A city rose on all sides of me. Had it always been here? Was it a hallucination, a sign of my fading sanity? Regardless, I was grateful for the shade the buildings offered me. That is, if I could call them buildings. Like the castle, the exteriors were burnt to a black, the red light from the sun giving them an eerie shadow. Windows bubbled and popped, raining shards of liquid glass down as I passed. They ignited little fires on my back that quickly burnt out as the fur regrew. With every blink, the landscape in front of me changed. The sand came back, then a sprawling city, then a rural village. I passed by a stadium, a dress making studio, another castle, and more buildings than I had memories about. Each of them cried out in their own unique sounds, and I ignored them all. I heard stitching, dancing, laughter, celebrating; but all were just dead whispers on a dead wind. The buildings faded into dust and came crashing down as I walked past them, the sounds dying in the hissing heat of the sun.
This time, when I blinked, I was somewhere else completely. The heat was gone, the sun blocked by great white stone walls. My skin felt cool, my hooves free of the burning pain for a moment, and it was nice. No sun impeded my vision as I looked at my surroundings. Four great walls, each stretching off into forever, but my immediate surroundings were more interesting than this delusion. Ahead of me were seats, hundreds of them, all faced towards a stage at the head of the room. All the chairs were occupied by mannequins, each dressed in a gorgeous gown or tuxedo, all staring at the two under the arch at the end of the room. I strode forwards through the aisles, passing the mannequins, and they turned to look at me and smile, before rotating back into their original positions. The two at the head of the stage seemed different… more colorful that the spectators.
While the audience were all a bland white, with no eyes, no horns and no wings, the mannequin in the tuxedo had a horn, with a faded, frayed blue mane that covered his eyes. The mannequin on his side… wait, where did it go? The figure that had been standing there had gone, leaving only its dress hanging freely in the air. It sparkled in the light. It was beautiful. I ran a hoof over the fabric. It was a soft material I’d never seen before.
Bells tolled in the distance now, an immense cheer rising from the audience of mannequins as they remained stationary. The laughter returned, this time stronger, and a warm feeling spread across my body, as the air hugged me. I felt...
The tolling of the bells beat in an off tone roar that blasted open the doors I had entered through on the far side of the room. The sand poured in… swallowing the first few rows of mannequins. They screamed, their faceless features lost in a sea of heat. The building began to groan and shift, cracks forming in the walls. I glanced to the corners of the ceiling, only to find sand pouring in through rifts that hadn’t been there upon my entry. I had soiled this place, ruined it. I turned away from the crowd, to face massive stain glass windows. They stretched far above me, the multi-colored pieces of glass glistening.
They were also melting…
I squinted, far behind their murals, and saw the redness in the sky outside. I stepped back, shaking my head. “No.” My own voice was a croak and hiss of burnt vocal cords. The heat returned now, the screaming of the mannequins in the background rising to unbearable levels. And yet, I stared at the melting murals on the windows, struggling to see what had originally covered their surfaces.
It was useless. They, too, were now faded and melted beyond recognition. Thick globs of rainbow colored goo fell from their faces, beams of red light finally peeking through. I turned behind me, watching in cold fear as the sea of dirt and sand consumed the room. It rose like a tidal wave, and the immovable mannequins caught in its pull screamed for mercy, only to disappear beneath its surface. The wave came from all sides, even from the right and left edges of the room, which still stretched into forever. More light came through the burnt glass behind me, burning and broiling my skin and fur.
“I love you.”
The voice wasn’t mine.
I turned towards the only other figure in the room, and came face to face with the tuxedoed mannequins that I shared the stage with. His faded blue mane had finally blown free from his eyes, and they were full of warmth, of life. “I love you,” he repeated again.
The wave of sand rose above both of us now, the windows behind us cracking and breaking, before falling to the ground in a cascading rain of molten globs. I hugged the mannequin, feeling his warm embrace as the sun broiled my skin away, and the cascading wave of sand swallowed both of us.
“I love you.”
The burning feeling was gone, replaced by the cool sensation of ground underhoof. My eyes fluttered open, revealing an expansive meadow of dew stained grass, shining in the light. Risking a glance skyward, I saw the redness of it, and watched as clouds formed and boiled away. The sun danced like a crimson marble, fire arching around and around before crashing into the surface. And yet, it didn’t burn. I could not feel the heat. A breeze blew through the grass, and caused the strands to tickle my skin. I was wrong, this was the feeling of peace.
“I love you.” The faint breeze seemed to carry the words to my ears, but it also carried something else. I strained to hear the odd sound. What…. Was that whistling?
It was.
I rose from the grass, reluctant to leave behind their cooling feeling. It was soothing on my muscles of ash. I looked behind me, not only seeing my faded wings back, but also at the field that seemed to stretch on and on and on…
The whistling rose in a sharp note and I spun around. There, on a hill, was a figure, shovel in grasp and digging into the ground. The grass parted easily as I approached; the tune and pitch of the figure’s whistling putting my soul at ease.
“Figured you would come and see me.” The figure rested on his shovel as I crowned the hilltop. It wasn’t a pony, that much I could make out under the brim of his hat. He seemed a collection of creatures, with claws instead of hooves, and standing on two legs instead of four. He raised his eyes towards me as I stared at him. They were red… and any emotion behind them was left to predictions.
“You knew I would be here?” My voice sounded full this time.
The figure nodded, throwing the shovel over his shoulder as he approached. “They always do, at some point. Though, you’ve been here more than most.”
I narrowed my eyes. This place was familiar, and so was his face, but… that was all my mind would allow access to. “Is this a game?” The words were harsh.
He smirked, and pushed up the brim of his hat. His face was long, with the fur pointing at where his chin should be. “You tell me, you’re the reason I’m here.”
I frowned at that, taking a few steps closer, but didn’t give him an answer. It’s difficult to give what you don’t have.
He turned, gesturing me closer with a wave of his paw, before beginning a stroll towards the other side of the hill, talking as he did so. “You’ve been here so often I’ve lost count, more so now that everyone else has gone. It’s not an easy choice, you know, but the pain has to stop sometime. That’s what I do for ponies, I help them.” He resumed his whistling.
I followed behind, not too close. Was this nonsense he was speaking, because that’s what it sounded like to me, or did he know something I didn’t. “What are you talking about?”
He laughed, the sound catching me off-guard and causing me to flinch. He gestured towards the horizon. “Look for yourself.” He stepped to the left, letting me see.
Oh no.
The graves were evenly spaced, but they kept on going. Over the hill beyond ours, and further and further and further, disappearing in small black dots on the edge of my vision. Thousands, no millions, of tombstones, all spreading out into the four corners of the world. I turned around, and smacked into one of the slabs of granite. Now they were behind me, too, in all directions, never-ending. The name had worn away ages ago, but the tombstone remained in perfect condition, otherwise. This creature… he was a grave keeper. I turned in anger towards the figure, “What did you do to everyone!?” My voice echoed over the hills for entire seconds, before coming around and striking me from behind.
The smile on his face was gone, his whistle fading on his lips. “They came to me and asked. I gave them what they wanted.” He pointed a paw at the sun, “they all just wanted peace. Everyone except… you.” The paw was now directed at me as he advanced. “Every time, I ask you the same thing, and you give me the same answer, but each day your return and say the same. This cycle has surpassed even my memory, little pony, and eventually, even the grave keeper must claim every life, even yours. Nothing lives forever. He stepped to the left, a grave behind him. It hadn’t been filled, yet, and the name on the tomb had yet to be carved.
“No,” it was a cold, hard, robotic answer, that came unconsciously from my muzzle. My stomach sank, and a feeling of sickness washed over me. “NO!” I screamed, rushing the figure. The horn on my head cast a pink glow over the ground as the magic discharged at the figure. Tears came from my closed eyes, and when they opened, I was alone. He had gone, the only thing left was a shovel at my feet. “No,” I repeated again to myself.
“Are you not tired of life, little pony?” I turned, facing him again. His red eyes seemed empty now, the bright sparkle of life nowhere to be seen. He crossed him arms and approached, walking to the opposite side of the empty grave and sitting with his back to the tombstone. “It’s been so long, you know. Will you not sit with me?”
I watched him cautiously, and yet something told me to sit with him. He seemed to resign his will to resist, and eventually I took a seat next to him.
“They’re all in here. Every single pony. From the princesses to the earth ponies, to the diamond dogs and even the gryphons, all resting here. Celestia came to me, burnt and withered, moreso than you, and asked. We never got along, and yet, I still let her have her request. Immortal beings cannot simply let themselves die, it’s not as simple as that. They have to be killed, and even as a favor, it hurt more than I could imagine.”
I inclined my head towards him, “Am I immortal?”
He stared at me, something about it made me uncomfortable. My mind screamed at me to attack, to cast more magic, but I sat there, silencing the violence in my bones. After another moment, he turned his eyes back to the sea of graves, “I do not know, little pony. Is it your decision, after all. But I must stay here, to tend to these grounds, even as Equestria is melted into a boiling rock and consumed by the sun.”
I shifted, “What happened to this place?”
“Time. Beyond the power of friendship, magic, love, and even chaos,” he said that last one with a sense of yearning, “time is still more powerful than all of them combined. Planets and suns eventually die, regardless.” He pointed towards the sun, “And Equestria’s time has come.”
“Are we the only ones left?”
“Yes.” The exhaustion in his voice was complimented by a weary sigh.
I couldn’t die, I wouldn’t let it happen. Dizziness seemed to creep through me even at the thought of finding a permanent resting place. Something plucked on something else inside of me; there was a goal I had to do, a thing that needed me to know before I could die. But what was it?
“If I die… then you’re to remain here for all eternity?” The gravity of those words was not lost on me. Millions and millions of years to broil and bake in the heat of the sun, before a never ending torment of constant melting when Equestria was finally consumed.
“Yes.”
I looked at him, and I finally recognized the emotion in his eyes. It wasn’t defeat, it was emotionless, it was fear. He was scared to live. Frightened by the very fact of facing such endless torment. It made sense now. The shivering in limbs was easier to notice. This was why he simply didn’t take me when I answered no.
He was scared.
“You don’t have to suffer.” My voice was quiet, carried only to his ears by the whistling of the grass. He turned, that spark of understanding in his face, and stared at me.
“You know what you’re doing, do you, little pony?”
I hated the pain, I hated the sun, the heat, the dust, but looking at this creature, I saw only a thing whose worst fear was suffering alone for all of eternity. Was it compassion that fueled me to do this? Love?
Those words drifted by on the wind again.
“Please. Before I change my mind.” I rose.
He nodded, standing as well. We circled back the tombstone and faced the empty lot. Strange… it seemed bigger now.
“He’s buried somewhere in here too.”
A brief flash of a blue mane floated around in my head, and I nodded at the creature. Lifting my head to view him, a pink glow surrounded him as I worked my magic. I cradled his body, watching him curl up as he floated above the grave.
“Thank you.” His body disappeared from sight, deep into the hole. Years passed before my horn wouldn’t let me drop the mass any further. The magic faded and I turned towards the pile of dirt. The shovel still sat nearby. Its handle tasted bitter, but I still bit into the tool and used it to push the dirt into the grave. There was no resounding impact, no sound of earth on earth, it merely fell into the grave and out of existence.
As I tipped the last shovel full of dirt into the ground, a rumble spread out from the grave. Sweat on my brow began to evaporate and the heat returned in full force. How long had this taken me? Had the sun finally decided to melt this refuge away from us as well?
I could only watch the hills of grass burn from the newfound fury above, frying into black stalks before busting into a tide of fire. I did a full turn, watching the act repeat on every hilltop, slowly spreading towards me. Graves melted like clay, forgotten ponies becoming more lost. I ended my rotation back at the grave I had just buried. It had never filled, of course, a strange black emptiness radiating from within.
Of course, it was only place that wasn’t within a wall of fire now. The wedding hall bells sounded again, closer this time. I took a last look at the landscape around me, and stepped willingly into the empty grave.
The cold didn’t waste any time seeping into my coat as I fell. It had been a relief at first, but the eventual chattering of my teeth made me long for a source of heat. I still hadn’t touched the ground; a gentle breeze pulsating at me as I glided down through the black abyss.
There was no light here, just darkness. The faint red shimmer that had followed me into the grave had disappeared hours ago, leaving me and an unfamiliar blackness as reluctant partners. Even the occasional burst of light from my magic seemed to fade into nothing the moment it moved from my horn.
Was I speeding up?
The gentle breeze was now a harsh sting at my belly, and the wings at my side refused to respond to any movements. Some small horror that they had frozen worked its way through my mind. Down and down I went, picking up more momentum. It hurt to breathe, to look. Through teary, squinted eyes, something ahead of me came to fruition.
There was a spot in the blackness where it wasn’t so black. A hooded shaped shifted in a chair, watching me as I fell. The wind bit at my skin, forcing me to curl my head down into my body. There, beneath my feet, was a massive crystal heart, one which I was approaching at an extreme velocity. The impact was brutal, bones in my body shattering to dust and reforming afterwards. Arcs of pain lashed through me, and worst of all, my impact had cracked the beautiful gem.
The crack spread as I stood, and I saw the breaking of those murals as glass rained down upon me. I tried to take to the air, but my wings were still frozen. I resigned to fall into the heart of the crystal heart as the surface gave way and I plunged in.
There was light here. It filtered in through my dazed vision in fragments, but it was there. It hurt to stand, muscles pulling at me to just lay there and rest. There was railing ahead of me, and a beautiful icy mountain range kilometres off into the distance. I stepped forward.
It was a platform I was on, raised several stories above the ground. Poking my head over the railing opened up a plethora of new sights. A beautiful city that extended in every direction, but most importantly, there were other ponies.
Instead of fur, however, their outer coats seemed to be a hard substance. Light reflected off their bodies as I gazed at them.
They milled around underneath an arch, watching a strange stone with utmost attention. It was the heart I had cracked. I watched them focus at the gem, and I waited for something to happen, knowing that I had ruined their beloved artifact.
“You have to help them.”
I turned to the voice to my right, coming face to face with the same mannequin from the church. His lips moved when he spoke this time, that blue mane tossing back and forth. I knew this pony…
“I have to help them how?” I asked.
“Their heart, it protects them from the evil of this land. While they fix it, you must keep the city safe.”
I turned back to the city exterior. In the distance rested nothing but snow and mountains. Strange, how the climate of the city seemed so mild.
“He comes for them.”
“Who?” I looked back, but I was alone of the platform.
The sky grew dark, even as the sun seemed barely past its mid-point. The clouds seemed to swirl into a black mass, and the blue tint of the horizons slowly darkened into the familiar shade. I tried to run towards the railing, to warn the ponies below, but collapsed after the first step. Exhaustion seemed to rush into my body. Had I been this tired? A pink glow came from my horn. It fizzled and dimmed considerably. When had I cast a spell?
“You have to hold on.” The voice was back in my head.
My tired eyes could only spot the ponies below as they unsuccessfully dealt with the damage heart. Every second I was forced to tend this spell only sucked my energy. My heart beat unevenly, and breathing shook my entire body. I wanted it to end, it had to stop.
The pink glow faded.
The mountains were back at the edges of my vision; cold, billowing black snow rushing into the city. It spread out, touching and covering and consuming all the structures it met. The vibrant crystalline houses and structures tainted before my eyes, twisting into sinister black spikes upon contact. The screams below did little to arouse my body. It pained to stay conscious, and I could only lie here and watch as I failed the city below me.
A dark cloud landed on the platform next to me, chuckling. Green eyes stared venomously at me.
“A good effort, princess. But not enough. These ponies are mine and they always will be.” The black vapor condensed into thick, grey armor, that walked and knelt beside me. “Watch the kingdom fall. Watch these ponies die, and know it was all your fault.” He snickered, green spreading from armor and down into the material of the platform. It blackened and cracked, sharing the same appearance as the tainted city.
The ponies below ran, only to be swept away in the darkness. Their crystalline coats were robbed of their brilliance, hollowing and dimming out of their beauty. Their screams died with their brightness, only to be replaced by faint shells of themselves, curling up and crying as the city bled around them.
Hooves of lead pulled me closer to the armored stallion, as I crawled towards the monster. “Let them go.”
The response was laughter, cruel and full of mirth. “Or what, dear princess? What will you do?” He bowed low, letting me stare into his green eyes.
“I’ll kill you!” I thrust my head forward. Our skulls missed by inches, but my horn didn’t. He loosed a harrowing scream of pain, withdrawing his head and what remained of his eyes.
“This petty little princess thinks she knows about death, does she?” He growled. Green leaked from his ruined eye, burning the platform we were on. It seeped around my body. I was sinking, this floor melting around me.
He stepped back, laughing. “Enjoy your flight. Please, get out of my kingdom.” The armor evaporated, as did his body, leaving only that one green eye to stare at me as the platform gave.
I fell. The city was falling with me; tainted structures collapsing into the streets. My eyes drifted upwards. It had been a castle… that platform was merely an overlook. Such a beautiful palace it had been too, sparkling and glittering once, now corrupted. The shock of hitting the ground was nothing compared to the agony I felt as the entire castle came down upon my beaten form.
The blackness was back. As was the cold. My hooves were on solid ground this time, however. I walked, wincing as the floor froze each hoof. The icy clop of my hooves and the strained breathing of my freezing lungs echoed in the darkness. And yet, it wasn’t as dark as before. I could see the vapor exit my mouth, before it froze and fell to the ground. There in the distance was the chair.
And upon it sat the same figure from before. It didn’t move as I neared, but I was sure it stared at me from underneath its hood.
The atmosphere seemed to warm around the figure, my icy tracks stopping as I came close to the chair.
“A little pony in a world of metaphors, struggling through the oddities of the situation.” He rose throwing back the shroud covering his face.
That blue mane.
“Why can’t you just accept it? Why won’t you confront it?”
Whispers flooded my ears, all of them in my voice, all of them screaming at me. I was back in my bedroom, watching the castle walls rot and fester, watching through the holes in the ceiling as the heat melted the outlying city. I saw the feats of ponykind being erased, I saw the history of our species fade and broil away underneath the sun. Structures blackened into dust and were swept away in storms until nothing remained but ashes.
“The removal of an empire. The end of a legacy. The destruction of a civilization.” He gestured to the wasteland around us. “You walked through it.”
The church bells rang, bursting my eardrums. The city faded away, replaced by hundreds of mannequins, all dressed for a special occasion. The windows were back, murals as majestic as they had originally been. I heard the exiting clamour and cheering of ponies, all beckoning in excitement for the ceremony about to be conducted. At the head of the stage, I recognized a pony. Her coat looked like mine, the same shade…
“The pinnacle of relationships, the moment when two lives intertwine forever. You spit in the face of loneliness . Commitment did not hold you back, but spurned you on.” The ponies on the stage embraced, much to the crowd’s delight. I felt the heat of a kiss on my lips. Those brilliant blue eyes stared into mine.
I love you. Forever.
I repeat the words, but the last fragment dies on my lips. There won’t be a forever for him.
The windows cracked, the sand poured in, and the ceremony was consumed by destruction. The floor became moist underneath my hooves, small blades of grass blossoming. The graves were back too, the endless hills and endless stones, all marking the resting place of Equestria’s population. Everyone was buried here. I walked along the tombs, trying to read the names. The language was gibberish to me, had it been so long I had forgotten? The Gravekeeper was there, shovelling away at the dirt to an unnamed plot, limbs wincing and shaking as the heat of an unbearable giant beat down upon him.
“The pain… the heat. He couldn’t endure. The god of chaos, or unpredictability, finally had his share. Pain isn’t an unfamiliar concept to you, either. You buried a tired soul, but left an exhausted one to continue walking blind.”
I placed him in the grave, watching as fire consumed the cemetery. I descend into the blackness alongside him, falling into an abyss and emerging in another kingdom. The crystals are back, the ponies shining with luminosity as they stroll back and forth. There’s laughter, happiness. Six ponies stand out. They rush back and forth, maintaining food, games and entertainment, all with smiles and joyfulness. There are no mountains on the edge of the city. Inviting blue skies stretch off into the distance, a healthy sun beaming down a comfortable heat.
I’m on a platform, exhausted and in the hooves of somepony. He holds his close, telling me things are going to be okay. The glow around my horn dims and flickers, barely holding steady. My eyes are closed, but with each flicker I can feel the coldness of the snow, hear the laughter of those green eyes.
There’s a scream and I look. My spell has expired. Blackness rushes into the city, into the ponies, corrupting and twisting them into abominations. The soothing voice is gone; instead a harsh tone is bellowed into my ears. He tells me I’ve failed. That it’s my fault.
“You tried, and tried. The spell was costly, and you held for days, a feat that will go down in books of magical expertise. And yet, the city was consumed. You had failed. A Failure that cost many their existence.”
Everything faded. The cold inches back into my hooves and once again I am facing that chair. He was seated again, hood still drawn back. The white coat of fur does little to hide his age. Tired blue eyes look out at me. They shimmered in the dim light.
“And yet, out of all those things, you still fear me. Still fear what will happen to me.” He is interrupted by a coughing fit and I rush to him. The shimmer in his eyes is gone.
“An immortal pony destined to live longer than the stars, and you fret over this.” He sank lower into the chair, breathing thin and ragged.
“It isn’t you I fear,” My mouth is numb, and icy splinters slur my words. We are hugged together, sharing an embrace. I rest my ear against his chest, and listen to the faint heartbeat within.
“Everything dies, Cadance. Eventually.” His whisper barely reaches me. The cold has entombed us both, and pierced through my chest. It poked, and stabbed, and gutted…
Sleep is nudged from me by somepony.
“Cadance, is something wrong?”
I turned to face him. The lively blue mane, the radiant white coat, those shining eyes; my fears seem far away now. And yet, those wrinkles on his face seem so close.
I knew that I haven’t aged a day, a grace he will not share. It is worth troubling him? Is it worth making him afraid?
I smiled, sincerely as I could. “No, Shining, everything is fine.” He looked at me strangely, before letting sleep take him again. I turned away, I can’t face him. My eyes are closed again. Is this the right decision?
My breaths are thinned, icy spikes are pierced through my hooves and on the horizon, a violent red sun has risen.
As usual, Zecora was having a good day. Actually, that is not entirely accurate. She was having an especially good day. She had prepared her favorite meal for breakfast, collected all the herbs she needed for the new potion she was going to test out (in theory, it would allow any creature that drank it the ability to spew fire), managed to do her evening meditations without having anyone interrupt her, and, to top it all off, was able to take a quick nap after lunch.
Yup, it seemed that Zecora’s life had gone pretty much uphill since Ponyville stopped ostracizing her. Now she had become a valuable member of the community, and even a close friend of many of the residents. With these happy thoughts in mind, and a content smile splayed on her face, the enchantress left her humble hut, and began making her way to said community.
The Everfree was as foreboding as ever as the zebra trotted between its thick vegetation. The sun was completely blocked by the forest’s canopy, so shadow constantly enveloped the forest floor. The air was alive with the buzzing of dozens of insects and the scurrying of creatures as they climbed one of the many trees. Occasionally, a growl would emanate from the brush, but Zecora would think nothing of it. She was so accustom to the forest, that she hardly ever paid attention to what many would consider to be its ‘creepier’ aspects.
Even now, as she marched to the village that lay at the edge of the tree line, she hardly noticed the hundreds of eyes that were following her every move. Some, particularly the Cutie Mark Crusaders, thought she was very brave for living in what they thought was the most dangerous place in Equestria. And while it was true that there was hardly a thing the zebra was afraid of, courage had nothing to do with it. She was simply used to a wilder living environment.
As Zecora broke through a particularly dense bush and, stumbled into a clearing, her eyes widened in wonder as she caught a glimpse of what it held. Hundreds of ‘bubble flowers’ floated aimlessly through the air, banishing the darkness of the forest with a blue glow. The bubble flower, so aptly named after an extremely thing membrane that surrounded the flower, had a particular chemical which Zecora used as the basis of some of her potions. This chemical also happened to cause the flower to glow brightly in the dark. Hundreds of these lantern-like flowers floated and bumped into each other, each one dancing in the warm, gentle breeze that peeked through the forest’s branches.
The sight filled Zecora with joy, but also with a kind of sadness. It was an utter crime that the ponies where too frightened to appreciate the beauty that the forest had to offer. At times, it was like they were afraid of their own shadow. Who knows, maybe she really was just extraordinarily courageous? She certainly couldn’t think of anything that frightened her off the top of her head. Or maybe the ponies were just a bunch of scaredy-cats.
Zecora chuckled at the thought. She pushed one of the nearby flowers off into the air, and watched it twirl for a few minutes before continuing on her way. The sight of the exotic plants had swelled her heart with joy, and it was looking like she could have a perfect day ahead of her. Yes, there absolutely nothing that could ruin it.
Absolutely. Nothing.
She soon exited the forest and was greeted by the sun’s warm rays. She continued down her path till the first buildings of the quaint village of Ponyville poked over the horizon. From her distance, it seemed like another average day for the town. Yet the closer she got, the more it dawned on Zecora that something was amiss. It wasn’t until she stood in the center of town that it hit her:
Everyone was gone.
The town was utterly, completely, one-hundred percent deserted. Just to illustrate this point, a lone tumble weed bounced beside Zecora before tumbling off into the distance. Zecora hung her head sadly, before lashing out and stomping her hoof in frustration. She had thought the town had finally gotten over their fear of her. But now it seemed that they had chosen to fall back into their ignorant ways. So much for having a perfect day. With a heavy sigh, the witch-doctor turned around, and began making her way back to the solitude of her hut.
That’s when she saw 'it.'
Zecora gasped. There, in the middle of the road, lay one of the most horrible sights she had ever witnessed. Zecora had no idea how she could have missed it on her way into town, but it didn’t really matter at that point. The zebra recoiled in fright, and began shivering uncontrollably. The Zebra had heard stories about them as a child, but to see on in real life…she had to fight the urge to run away screaming. It was horrendous. It was disgusting. It was so…round. Zecora took a deep breath to stop herself from quivering, and steeled her nerves. Then, slowly but surely, she inched her away around the fowl evil in front of her. Hugging the wall of the nearby building, she carefully slid past it, never taking her eyes off the round sphere. Finally, when she was sure the danger had past, she trotted down the road as quickly as she could and released a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.
She made it.
She did it. She had faced one of the most dreaded foes of her people, and she had ended up unscathed. The experience put the thoughts of Ponyville’s new found fear of her out of her head. Now with her courage proven, there was nothing to stand in her way home…
…except for another one of the foul demons lying in the middle of the road again.
Zecora’s eyes widened. She took a step back in fear. What was happening? How could there be two of these things in the town? She gritted her teeth, and mustered up the courage to examine it more closely. That’s when she noticed that this one was slightly different from the previous one that obstructed her path. This one had…green legs?
Zecora tilted her head in confusion. She was about to take a closer look, when all of the sudden, it let out a deep*ribbit*, and hopped onto her head. Zecora let shrieked as she tried batting the creature off of her. Then the flood gates burst.
Suddenly, the hundreds of them began pouring out of the houses, each one more horrifying that the last. Zecora couldn’t believe her eyes.
Oranges.
Dozens and dozens of oranges, all abandoning houses and heading straight to her. They were massive, about the size of a pony. In fact, Zecora could see that they all had the tails and legs of ponies. Much to her horror, some began descending from the sky, bearing pegasus wings. They all seemed to be screaming at her, but Zecora couldn’t discern what they were saying; she was too preoccupied with cowering in fear. When their tangy scent hit her, Zecora stood up and fled as quickly as her legs could carry her.
The oranges closed in on her, their hooves lifting up tufts as of dirt as they chased after the zebra. It was practically a stampede. Seeing her route was going to be cut off by the demonic fruit-pony hybrids, Zecora weaved to her right and galloped down an alleyway. She was right in the middle of the side street, when the exit was cut off by over a dozen more oranges. She was completely surrounded.
Zecora’s head whipped back and forth, trying desperately to find a way to escape this nightmare. The oranges were closing in, still screaming at her. Whenever they talked, half of their body opened like a mouth, and a strong smell of citrus would come forth. It was an appalling sight.
“Help us.”
“Save us.”
“Please…Zecora.”
Tears of despair formed in the corners of her eyes. Then, the first orange was upon her.
“Stay back evil beast!” screamed the Zebra, her voice conveying more confidence than she felt. “I will not let you make me your feast!” Zecora lashed out wildly at the fruit, and hit it square in the face (at least, if oranges could have faces, that would be the place she hit it).
“Ow!” yelled the orange as it collapsed. Zecora barreled past the fallen fruit and tackled her way through its comrades. She wasn’t out of the woods yet, or, in this case, the orange grove. More and more of the fruits kept appearing from the buildings, and the sky was now swarming with the giant, orange spheres. The zebra knew escape from the demons was impossible, there too many of them. Her only hope would be to barricade herself in one of the buildings. She headed straight for the only structure that the oranges weren’t coming out of.
Ponyville Library.
“Ugh! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO!”
A book flew across Twilight’s bedroom and hit the adjacent wall. The purple unicorn sat at her desk, bent over a pile of papers, and grumbling to herself.
“None of this works!” she yelled as she swiped her notes off her desk and onto the floor in frustration.
“Calm down Twilight,” said Spike from nearby the stairs. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Please, I don’t like seeing you like this.”
“I know Spike,” sighed the purple unicorn. “But this whole mess is my fault, and it’s my job to fix it.”
“No one’s blaming you Twilight.”
“Spike, EVERYONE¸ is blaming me,” said Twilight flatly.
“Well…okay, you’re right. But still, it’s not that big a deal.”
“It’s just tha-”
Twilight was cut off by the sound of a door slamming, and the pounding of hooves, from downstairs. “Great, is that the angry mob?” asked the mare sarcastically. “Funny, they’re late. I expected it hours ago.”
Twilight stood from her desk, and made her way downstairs and into the library’s foyer. What she saw was far from what she was expecting.
“Zecora?”
The zebra was sitting against the library’s front door, panting. Her Mohawk was completely disheveled (or as disheveled as a Mohawk could get anyways), and sweat glistened on her coat.
“Twilight, thank goodness you are here!” said Zecora, relief palpable in her voice. “We bring you awful news that is cause of much fear!”
“Twilight, is everything okay down there?” called out Spike from the second floor. The dragon climbed down the stairs to see what the commotion was about.
When Zecora saw the dragon appear from the top of the staircase, she gasped, backed up against the wall, and began trembling in fright.
Standing at the top of the stairs was an orange. This was not a regular orange, as, like with the fruit outside, it was easily five times larger than a regular orange. But unlike it’s compatriots outside, this orange lacked the hooves, bushy tails, or even wings that they had. Instead, this orange stood on two purple legs, had two purple arms hanging from its side, green spikes running down its head (or whatever it is that oranges have for heads), and a stubby, scaly, purple tale protruding from its back.
This was Spike.
“Oh, hey Zecora,” said Spike cheerfully as he waved to the terrified zebra. Zecora didn’t reply. She just began shivering even more violently, and opening and closing her mouth without emitting any sound.
“Zecora, calm down,” said Twilight soothingly, in a futile attempt to calm the enchantress. “It’s just Spike.”
Zecora didn’t listen. She just began to stutter incoherently. “Demon…evil…”
“Spike, go upstairs,” ordered Twilight.
“What, why?”
“Look at her Spike! She’s terrified. Now go, I’ll try to calm her down.”
“Awww man,” moaned the orange as he/it marched back upstairs.
The moment the fruit-dragon hybrid was out of site, Zecora gradually started to calm down.
“There, are you feeling better?” asked Twilight.
“What is h-h-happening T-Twilight?” asked Zecora shakily. “What has b-brought forth these creatures that…that cause me such a fright?”
Twilight rubbed the back of her neck and laughed sheepishly. “You see, the thing is-”
Twilight was, much to her annoyance, ones again cut off by a knocking on the front door. “Twilight!” cried out a voice that was unmistakably Applejack’s. “What’s goin’ on in there? We saw Zecora rush into the library, is everythang alright?”
“Everything’s fine Applejack,” replied Twilight as she opened the door. When she did so, an orange with orange legs, a blond tail, and a trademark Stetson walked in, followed by five more of the giant fruit.
“Have you found a way to fix this, Twi?”
“Not yet Dash. But now that Zecora’s here, I might have a way to solve this mess.”
“Great! So where is she?” asked Dash.
“She’s right here behind…” Twilight trailed off when she noticed that a certain Zebra happened to be absent. "Where the hay did she-?"
Her question was answered when she heard the sound of the bathroom door shut. “Uh…hold on a second.”
Twilight made her way to the bathroom, and gently knocked on the door. “Zecora are you in there?”
Rather than getting a straightforward answer, the Zebra quickly opened the door and yanked the unicorn inside, before slamming it shut again. “Zecora!” cried the lavender mare indignantly. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Can you not see how dangerous it is with those things outside?” asked Zecora harshly. “You should be thanking for saving your hide.”
Twilight rubbed her temples, and gave an irritated sigh. She was much too stressed and much too tired to be dealing with this right now. “Look Zecora. I know it’s a little freaky out there, but let me explain. I was trying to practice a new transformation spell to turn an apple into an orange, when-”
“Wait, are you to say you actually tried to create a…a…one of those things!?” cried out Zecora, horrified that someone would attempt such a thing. “Do you not know what kind of evil even one of them brings?”
Twilight gave Zecora a puzzled look. “Wait, are you talking about oranges in general?”
Zecora cringed at the mention of their name. “Please do not say their name,” she whimpered. “Simply uttering a single syllable makes me feel like my body you maim.”
“Zecora, are you…are you afraid of oranges?”
Zecora cringed again before hanging her head down in shame. “You do not understand, the evil that those…things hold in my land. They are my people’s greatest foes, and have caused my tribe many woes.”
“…oranges?” deadpanned Twilight in disbelief.
“Don’t say that word!” hissed the witch-doctor. “A great fear in my people those things have stirred.” The zebra shuddered. “Because we speak in the old tongue, to try to say their name could leave our thoughts unsung.”
Twilight’s eyes widened in realization. “So because you all speak in rhymes, and ‘orange’ doesn’t rhyme with anything, then if you say the word ‘orange’ you can end up mute?”
Zecora nodded. “It is a most horrible fate. Of the members of my tribe that suffer this affliction, there are eight. This is why this fruit is so evil to my people, and why it is forbidden in my land. If even one where to enter into Zebreica, the consequences would be grand.”
Twilight nodded in understanding, and placed a comforting hoof on Zecora’s shoulder. “I’m sorry Zecora, I had no idea.”
The zebra shook her head. “No, you ponies rarely understand my people’s plight. Even one whiff of the ‘demon fruit’s’ odor can send the bravest of our warriors into a fear driven flight.”
“Listen Zecora, I think you can help me fix this mess.”
“I can?”
“Yes. Like I was saying, I was conducting an experiment to turn an apple into an ora…one of those things, but I kept getting distracted. I got so frustrated that I tweaked the frequency of the spell so that I could cast the spell faster, and finish the job before being interrupted again. I may have made a teeny, tiny…huge mistake.” 'That’s an understatement,' thought the unicorn. “Rather than being cast faster, the spell became stronger. It uh…it kinda turned every living thing in Ponyville into an orange.”
Zecora’s right eye twitched and she shuddered violently. “But how I can help, I still do not understand?”
“I’ve been trying to find a spell to fix my mistakes, but so far I haven’t had any luck,” explained Twilight. “At this rate, it’ll take me a week before I can even come close to finding a counter charm. But you can make a transformation potion to turn everyone back, right?”
Zecora pondered the idea for a moment. “I suppose it would be possible. Yes, with the right potion this problem is easily solvable. But all my ingredients are in my home. And in order to get there, through the demon infested streets of Ponyville I would have to roam.”
Twilight gave Zecora an encouraging smile, and the zebra’s eye’s widened.
“Oh,” she muttered.
“What the hay is takin’ them so long?” snorted the Applejack in frustration.
“Calm down Orangejack, I’m sure there gettin’ around to it.”
“Conarnit Dash! If ya’ll say one more pun, or crack one more joke ‘bout me bein’ an orange, Ah’ma gonna buck you to the moon!”
Rainbow Dash, who was flying above her companions, blew a raspberry at Applejack (somewhat disturbing considering she didn’t have a face). I’d like to see you catch me,” she said cockily. The ex-pegasus did a loop-di-loop right under the library’s ceiling. “Fastest orange in Equestria!”
“Stop bickering you two,” chided Rarity. “Be patient Applejack, I’m sure Twilight is trying her best to solve this. Besides, it’s not all that bad. I think the orange compliment’s my purple tale rather nicely.”
“Wow,” uttered Applejack flatly. “You lose a pair uh scissors, and you declare it the end uh Equestria as we know it. You turn into a gosh darned fruit, and you don’t even bat an eye?”
“Silly Applejack,” giggled Pinkie. “Rarity doesn’t have eyes.”
“Thanks for reminding us of that creepy fact Pinkie,” muttered Spike with a shudder.
The group’s discussion was interrupted by the sound of the bathroom door shutting. Shortly after, Twilight walked in looking tired and frustrated. “We have a problem,” she groaned.
“Oh, will Zecora not be able to help us?” murmured Fluttershy.
“No, well, not yet at least. She says she 'can' make the potion.”
“So what’s the problem?” asked Applejack.
“She can’t get to her hut, she’s afraid of oranges.”
“Come again?”
“She is afraid of oranges.”
Silence descended upon the room as the sentient oranges tried to process what Twilight just said.
“What?” deadpanned Dash.
“Look,” said Twilight. “Apparently, because zebra’s speak in rhyme, they can go mute if they say the word orange at the end of a clause. Because of this, oranges have become somewhat of a cultural boogeyman for them.”
“So let me get his straight,” said Spike slowly. “Zebra’s, the most warrior driven race on the planet, the race that considers wrestling manticores to be a rite of passage for their foals, are afraid of a fruit?”
“Yes.”
…
“I say again: What?”
“The point is that she can’t make us the potion okay!” yelled Twilight in frustration.
“Can’t one of us get her ingredients and bring them to her?” questioned Rarity.
“Nope. She says that she put an enchantment on her cupboard so that only she can access her rarest ingredients.”
“Why don’t you just teleport her to her hut then?” asked Pinkie.
Twilight groaned and massaged her horn gently. “I’ve been trying to find a counter charm for this mess for the past sixteen hours. I’m too exhausted to conduct a spell that complex. And my horn pretty much burnt out, so it’ll take a few days for me to even try.”
“Ah know!” declared Applejack. “Why don’t you ask her how tah make it and then you do it?” Applejack deflated when Twilight shook her head again.
“I have no idea how to make potions,” lamented Twilight. “And I don’t want to risk screwing up and poisoning everyone.”
“But ah thought ya’ll were a magical genius?”
“That’s not how magic works Applejack. Comparing alchemy with spell casting is like comparing apples and oranges.”
At this, Rainbow Dash fell from the ceiling in a fit of laughter. Tears (in the form of orange juice) streamed down her face(?), and she continued to roar until she was bucked by Applejack.
“Ow!” she cried. “Oh come on Applejack! You have to admit that was freaking hilarious.”
Applejack didn’t answer, and instead chose to buck her companion a second time. Twilight was about to scold them for their childish behavior, when another knock came from the front entrance. 'Seriously, again?' she thought.
Twilight opened the entrance to reveal over a hundred oranges ‘standing’ outside. One of the oranges stepped out of the crowd. It had dark beige colored legs, and a gray mane. It didn’t take long for Twilight to discern that this was Mayor Mare. Despite not having any eyes, the public official still wore her signature glasses.
“Excuse me, Miss Sparkle,” began the Mayor. “But we were wondering if you had yet to procure a cure for our condi-”
“When are you gonna fix us!” cried out a furious voice from the crowd. This sparked a wave a discontent that spread through the crowd, and before long, Twilight was barraged by angry jeers and accusations.
“SHUT UP!!!” screeched the Mayor. As if someone had flicked an off switch, the crowd fell silent. If oranges could glare, then the Mayor would have been subjecting the instigator with the most heart-stopinglly powerful glare in the history of ever. “AS. I. Was. Saying. We were simply wondering if you found a way to turn us back into ponies.”
“Uh…not…exactly,” murmured the purple unicorn cautiously. Various groans and moan emanated from the crowd.
“How much longer ‘till you can fix us!?” cried out another voice.
“I don’t know Mr. Cake,” admitted Twilight.
“I’m Thunderlane!”
Twilight groaned in exasperation. “Fine. Thunderlane. Whatever. You all look the same!”
“Racist!” accused a second voice.
“Wha…I...Oranges aren’t a race!” shouted Twilight.
“Not yet we’re not,” muttered the slanderous pony. “But you’ll see…you’ll all see…our moment shall come.” The pony began laughing hysterically. Most of the other town’s residents decided to take a nervous step away from the manic ex-stallion.
“Ooookaaay,” stated Twilight for lack of anything better to say. “Anyways, no, I don’t know when I’ll be able to fix this mess.”
“So we’re gonna be stuck like this forever?”
“No Lyra, I-“
“Oh come one! You didn’t even get my gender right that time!”
“Sorry Thunderlane,” said Twilight with a roll of her eyes. “Don’t worry everpony. You won’t have to stay like this forever.” She gave them a confident grin. “I have a plan.”
“Okay Zecora, are you ready?”
“No,” moaned the zebra. “Twilight, why must you torture me so?”
“Because it’s good for you,” said Twilight cheerily.
Twilight, Spike, and the girls were all standing around Ponyville Library’s bathroom door. A pile of oranges (the regular ones) was resting next to them, and the door was opened just a crack. Spike, who was sitting on the stairwell, snorted.
“This is stupid.”
“Shush Spike,” scolded Twilight. “It’s not stupid. Besides, do you have a better idea?”
“Yeah,” said Rainbow. “I’ll just grab her and take her back to her hut by force.”
“And traumatize her for life?” pointed out Rarity.
“She’ll get over it.”
“No Dash, Rarity’s right. The only way is to help Zecora get over her fear of oranges, and get her to make it back to her hut on her own.”
“I can’t tell what’s sadder,” muttered Spike. “That are only savior is afraid of a fruit, or that this is the best solution we could come up with.”
“Neither,” replied Applejack. “The saddest part is that this ain’t even the weirdest thang tah happen tah this town since ya’ll got here.”
Twilight waved her hoof back and forth to silence her companions. “Okay Zecora, I am passing the orange through the door, brace yourself.” The unicorn gently opened the door slightly more, and slowly rolled an orange through the threshold. Before the fruit even entered the bathroom completely, a loud, high-pitched shriek came from within, causing Twilight to pull back the fruit with haste, and the others to facehoof.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” groaned Spike.
“This… this is going to take some time,” pointed out Rarity unhelpfully.
“We just need to be patient,” assured Twilight. She replaced the whole orange with a smaller slice she had cut out earlier, and inched it towards the door. “Zecora, I’m going to push a small slice through the door. Try not to scream this time.” The lavender mare once again began driving the fruit into the bathroom, this time even slower than before. The slice actually made it past the doorway, and for a moment it seemed that Zecora may have gotten over her fear. But these hopes were quickly dispelled by another, louder scream from the Zebra.
“Oh come on!” cried out Dash. She marched right up to the bathroom door and began yelling at it. “This is taking too long. Listen Zecora, you need to stop being such a namby-pamby cry baby!” She picked up once of the oranges from the pile, and glared at it. “You gotta walk up to one of these stupid oranges and say: ‘Hey, orange! You think you’re so cool what with your citrus and vitamin C? Well buck you, you stupid fruit!’” Just for emphasis, Dash took a violent bite out of the defenseless fruit.
“Aaaaaah! Dashie’s a cannibal!!!” screeched Pinkie Pie before cowering away from her cyan legged companion.
“W-what…I…bu-…I’m not a cannibal, Pinkie!” asserted Dash as she spit out the chewed orange. Pinkie didn’t listen. She continued to cower away from Rainbow Dash in fear that she too would be eaten. “Guys, tell her!” pleaded Dash.
The others took a nervous step back from the pegasus. “Ah don’t know Dash,” muttered Applejack uncertainly. “You did kinda eat that poor orange pretty…uh…violently. If’n it’s all the same tah you, ah ain’t takin’ any chances.”
“Oh come on!” cried out the pegasus in disbelief.
“She’s right darling,” gulped Rarity. “That put some rather violent images in my head. I would rather not risk getting eaten thank you very much.”
“Um…if you want… you could eat me, Dash…I’d rather you didn’t…but I don’t want to be rude,” murmured Fluttershy uncertainly.
“GIRLS!!!” shouted Twilight. Everyone turned to the unicorn, who was glaring back at them. “We don’t have time for this! We need to get Zecora over her fear, and the longer we waste time, the longer it’ll take us to fix you. So let’s try to focus here. We are not leaving until we get Zecora out of this room.” Twilight sat firmly of her rump, and narrowed her eyes in determination. “No matter how long it takes…”
Twelve hours later…
“Okay!” shouted a disheveled Twilight. Her right eye was twitching violently, her mane was an utter mess, her pupils were the size of pinpricks, and she wore that psychotic smile she got whenever she experienced one of her ‘episodes.’ “It’s been eleven and a half hours! But I REALLY think this time it’ll work!” She began laughing manically, and her eye twitched even more.
Meanwhile, her companions, who had chosen to give her as much space as possible, glanced anxiously at each other.
“Twilight,” whispered Spike with concern. “You’ve been saying that for the last fourteen tries.”
“He’s right sugarcube. Maybe ya’ll should…uh…take a break.”
Twilight’s smile widened even more, further unnerving the group. “But I REALLY feel it this time,” she seethed.
“You said that the past thirteen times,” muttered Spike.
Twilight didn’t listen, she just grabbed another orange. “Okay, here we go Zecora. Take number one thirty-nine.” She pushed the fruit through the door, and everyone cringed in anticipation for the ear wrenching scream. But none came. Twilight stared at the door in disbelief, unable to process what was going on. She looked back to her friends, who looked just s perplexed as her (or at least she thought they did).
Twilight slowly opened the bathroom door. Inside, on the other side, was a very tired looking Zecora. She was staring at the orange nervously but she wasn’t outright panicking. The purple unicorn picked up the fruit in front of her, and began approaching the zebra. Zecora leaned back apprehensively, but held her ground. Twilight eventually got right in front of the enchantress, and brought the fruit up to her face. Zecora stared at the orange with trepidation, but shakily extended her hoof forward. Twilight dropped the fruit into her hoof, and watched with anticipation. The zebra stared at it for a few minutes, before bringing it up to her muzzle and taking a huge bite out of it. She chewed hesitantly ad eventually swallowed. Zecora looked up at Twilight and gave her a small, shaky grin.
Twilight broke out into a massive (non-psychotic) smile. “You’re ready.”
“Alright everyone, she’s coming out!”
The door of Ponyville Library opened, and two figures stepped out: Zecora and Twilight, with the latter being present for support. The zebra glanced around the town uneasily. It was completely deserted, and the only movement came from the tumbleweed from earlier. Still, Zecora knew they were there. She could smell them.
“Come on, everything’s going to be fine,” whispered Twilight as the two took their first steps.
Zecora began taking deep breaths. As they passed through the town, not a sound could be heard except for the gravel crunching under their hooves. Her eyes shifted from side to side, examining the area for one of the dreaded ‘Demon Fruit.’ Then, she saw them. They weren’t out in the open like she would have expected. They were in alleyways and side-streets, behind the windows of the town’s houses, or hiding in the shadows. Still, they were there, and when Zecora saw them she gasped and stopped in her tracks.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” cooed Twilight. “I’m here. They’re not going to hurt you. They’re just fruit.”
Zecora nodded weakly. Taking another deep breath, the couple resumed the journey. Zecora’s fur stood on its end. Even though she kept her gaze straight ahead, she could still feel their presence. The zebra glanced to her right, and saw one of them hiding in the alley. The sight made her shudder. Their smooth surface, their citrusy odor, their bright orange color! Oh the humanity!
Everything about them was SICKENING.
What kind of cesspool could such a foul creation have wrought? Only the depths of Tartarus could have the ability to spawn something as revolting and malevolent as an orange! Zecora tried to push these thoughts out of her mind, but found it impossible. Their smell; that nauseating aroma permeated throughout every facet of the town, and threatened to suffocate her. Zecora gritted her teeth to keep from gaging. How long would she have to endure in this hell?
Twilight meanwhile, was kind of bored. She looked over at a clock hanging from a nearby store, and rolled her eyes.
Every step was utter torture for Zecora, but finally, after what felt like an eternity for both mares (but for entirely different reasons), they made it out of the town. But they were not out of the woods yet. Dozens of oranges with bunny tails and frogs legs scampered about the fields of Ponyville. Fortunately though, the rest of the journey went without much incident.
They were right at the edge of the woods, when suddenly, an orange with blue wings landed on the road, right in front of the mares. Zecora reared back in fright, and tried to run away, but Twilight held her in place. “Calm down Zecora!”
“Let me be!” pleaded the witch doctor. “Can you not see its evil? I must flee!”
“No!” cried Twilight with a stomp of her hoof. “We’re too close to turn back now. Now turn around, and face that fruit!”
Twilight made a mental note that that was probably the strangest thing she had ever said. This was not entirely accurate. In fact, that was the strangest thing 'anyone' has ever said.
Zecora reluctantly turned around, and faced the winged orange before her. She cringed at the site, but held her ground. Shutting her eyes, the zebra began thinking of all her friends that the fruit had hurt. Of her loving uncle, who had become mute because of the sinister spheres. The thought of her poor uncle, and the fact that he would never speak again, filled her with a kind of rage she had never felt before. This fury pumped through her veins, and filled her body till it was ready to burst. Snapping her eyes open, the zebra let out a blood-curdling war-cry, and lunged at the fruit. Before the orange could escape, Zecora stomped it with her hooves as hard as she could, and began beating it to a pulp (pun intended). Juice splattered all over her coat, and she continued to stomp it in a rage fueled frenzy until it was nothing but orange mush.
Zecora stood over the remains of the fruit; her brow was caked with orange peel, and her breath was hoarse and heavy. Twilight walked over to her stripped companion, and brought her into a hug. “I’m proud of you Zecora.”
“Thank you Twilight,” rasped the zebra. “Although I wouldn’t say it was a fair fight.”
“Come on,” chuckled Twilight. “Let’s get you to your hut so we can fix this mess.” The two walked down the road and into the forest with huge smiles on their faces…
…completely oblivious to the fact that Zecora had just up and killed an innocent bird.
But the moral ambiguity of Zecora’s actions aside, the two quickly made it to her hut. They walked in, and she immediately went to her cabinet. Muttering a soft incantation, the lock on the cupboard door glowed briefly before unlocking with a *click*. The enchantress began pulling out bottles and herbs, and throwing them all inside a cauldron. Before long, the brew inside turned emerald green, and started to swirl.
“There, it is almost done,” said Zecora.
“That’s a relief,” sighed Twilight happily.
“Yes, of the remaining ingredients, there is only one.” Zecora rummaged through her ingredient cabinet and pulled out a small vile containing a glowing blue liquid. “Behold, the nectar of the bubble flower this vile holds. It is a most rare and exotic ingredient. The fact that I still have some is most convenient.”
“How rare is it?” asked Twilight as she stared at the vile with wonder.
“Very,” answered Zecora knowingly. “If we were to lose this vile right now, the results would not be merry.”
As if by some hilarious twist of fate, as Zecora approached the cauldron, she tripped, and the vile flew out of her hooves. The vile shattered on the floor of the hut; its contents quickly seeping into the ground. Both Twilight and Zecora stared at the broken vile with unhinged jaws. After a few minutes of silence, Twilight’s eye started twitching again.
“You have got to be BUCKING KIDDING ME!!!”
They were not ‘bucking kidding her.’
Fortunately though, Zecora happened to remember the clearing from earlier before Twilight burst into flames, and was able to extract more nectar from the bubble flowers in a relatively short time. By the end of the day, the entire town was turned back to normal just in time for Pinkie’s ‘Hurray, We’re Not All Fruit Anymore!!!’ party. The celebration was held in the town square, and by the end of the night it had become a veritable feast, featuring all sorts of fruits and vegetables.
Not surprisingly, the only things absent from the meal were oranges.
Zecora sat at the head of the table, along with Twilight and the girls. The zebra was positively glowing, and received numerous ‘thank you’(s) from the villagers. At around midnight, the Mayor tapped her spoon against her glass to silence the crowd.
“*Ahem* I would just like to say that, despite the problems you may have caused us today, there are no hard feelings, Twilight.” The crowd all chuckled happily, and Twilight blushed slightly in embarrassment. “I would also like to take this opportunity to thank a very special person, without whom I would still be an orange. Zecora, I think I speak for everyone when I say: Thank you for saving our sorry flanks.
Crowd erupted into applause and cheers, with many of the ponies smacking the tables in approval. “Speech! Speech!” shouted Rainbow Dash. Soon the crowd took up the chant, and Zecora was forced to stand up and wave her hoof to silence the ruckus. Wearing a rueful smile, the zebra shook her head.
“Thank you everybody very much. With these kind words, my heart you touch. But please, the thanks should be given to Twilight, without whom I never would have overcome my fright with such ease.”
While everyone cheered again, and patted Twilight on the back, one thought ran through the unicorn’s head: 'EASE!? It took twelve hours to get you out of the freaking bathroom!' But she chose not to voice her thoughts, and instead just smiled and waved.
Zecora gave a deep chuckle. “In retrospect, I suppose my fear was quite silly. I mean, it only took a fruit to leave me screaming like a filly.”
Everyone in the crowd laughed, while Spike shook his head in disbelief. 'Seriously,' he thought. 'She was afraid of a fruit.'
Zecora snorted. “And to think, my fear was all because I was afraid to say the word ‘orange.’” Zecora froze in realization as her pupils shrank. Everyone gasped and stared at her. Twilight and her friends all had their mouths agape, and, like everyone, gazed at the zebra, who was standing perfectly still. Nobody moved or made a sound. Through it all, Zecora could only think one thing:
Morning. The sun rose over the horizon at Seventh street, like a cardboard circle some foal colored with a neon-yellow crayon. Broken clouds over the skyscrapers, but in Manehattan, snowfall was late by six days.
Intersection of Seventh and Saddle, four corners of gray pavement and brick houses. On one corner, a late-night diner with unwashed windows opened shop after three hours of sleep. Directly across, a glass-walled floristry store welcomed its first customer of the day. The third corner, sadly, was barren.
It is on the fourth corner that Salad Hooves, a lad of seventeen years, stood behind the counter at a classic Manehattan street sandwich stand. The stand was prepared and open sharp at the clock, but the colt himself was, like the morning city, asleep on his hooves. It was the weekend, no school, and Salad thought that pulling a double shift justified preparing for it physically.
So Salad relaxed, his pale yellow snout pressed against the countertop, his curly brown mane splayed around in a circle of split hairs. And in his dreams, Salad saw that he walked through Canter Park with a particular filly, and even spoke to her—
"Hi!"
Salad bolted up with a gasp, fumbling around the countertop in search of his green-rimmed glasses. He put them on, taking his time as he tried to concentrate on the puff of color staring him in the face.
She certainly wasn't local—nothing this pink could come from Manehattan. Pink coat, pink cotton candy mane, blue eyes that seemed to stare right through him and a grin wide enough to be impossible at six thirty on a Saturday morning.
And, of course, no Manehattanite would be caught dead in a "I heart Manehattan" shirt.
"Hey, you awake? You are! Can I order?" The pink one tossed her head around, her eyes jumping from the menu printed on the front to the countertop to the white-and-red umbrella above. "Do you do sandwiches? You do! I'd like a sandwich. Is that all you do? How about cupcakes? Or waffles? Can they be considered sandwiches?" She tapped her chin with a hoof. "Maybe? No? What about bananas?"
Salad Hooves blinked behind his glasses and flapped his ears. "Wa-wa-what?" he said, fighting his stutter.
While the pink pony was busy talking, a stallion walked in line behind her. He had a greased-back black mane, a tight brown jacket and perfect tie, and an intense clarity in his bloodshot eyes. He looked over the pink mare as he approached, brows climbing up.
"No? Oh well, that's a shame," she said, shrugging and smiling. "Can I have a banana-nut-bell pepper sandwich, pretty please?"
Salad blinked again and looked down, seeing the nuts and bell pepper trays. There weren't any bananas though.
The other stallion slumped his shoulders and sighed to the sky. "For Celestia's mane, Salad! Wake up and tell 'er that you ain't got any damn bananas!"
Hearing his barking voice, Salad perked up. "Oh, hello mih-mih-Mister Shining Shoes! Didn't see you there!" He nudged his glasses in place, careful not to disturb the adhesive bandages holding the temples in place. "I'm sorry, miss. Would you lah-lah-like something else instead?"
"Yeah, on second thought, I don't really want that." She put her front hooves on the edge of the stand, tipping it slightly, and leaned over to look at the ingredient trays. "I'll have a sandwich with lettuce, tomatoes, onions, cheese, mushrooms, olives, cucumbers, pickles, bell peppers, hot peppers, mild peppers and do you have sugar to go with that?"
Salad shook his head. Shining Shoes cringed and gagged silently.
"Oh, that's okay. I've always got some with me." The pink one giggled and produced a packet of powdered sugar out of somewhere.
Deciding not to think too hard on a morning like this, Salad Hooves got to work, grabbing a little bit of everything and throwing it on a pre-sliced bread roll.
While Salad was building, another stallion got in line. He didn't stop moving once he took his place, beating an impatient staccato on the pavement with a hoof and fidgeting with his overly combed orange mane. Merely a light shirt over his gray coat protected him from the December wind. Two heavy saddlebags, bulging with papers, were slung over his back.
Salad finished the culinary monster and passed it over to the mare, carefully holding its vegetable guts in place. The pink pony balanced it on one hoof, throwing exact change on the counter with the other.
"Thanks! You're great, and I'm sure that today will be wonderful!" she said and winked.
A cloud crawled away somewhere in the distance, letting the sun spill golden light over Seventh street. Sunshine poked Salad Hooves straight in the eyes, but he didn't flinch or look away.
"Why?" he asked.
"Why?" She giggled. "Just because! I felt like saying that. And if you feel like saying something nice to somepony, say it!"
"What if they don't like what I sh-saha-saha-say?"
"Oh, silly! You don't know that! And if you say good things you want to say, the day will only get better!" She smiled and closed her eyes, whistling a squee through her teeth.
Salad just stared. An idea woke up in his head and snuck its way down, grasping him by the throat. One of those really, really bad ideas that are too bad to let go of. He did not pay attention as the pink mare opened her mouth. One blink later, and Salad's latest culinary creation was gone, as if it never existed.
Shining Shoes peered over her shoulder, staring at the two. "Yeah, I'm happy for the little counseling session, but can we move on here?" The other customer stared too, his eyebrows angled even sharper.
"Okie-dokie! Bye, Mister sandwich guy! You'll have a great day today!" She turned around and bounced off, as if her hooves were made of coiled springs. Salad looked at her as she left, but the next customer in line quickly got his attention.
"Tourists..." Shining Shoes said, tapping on the metal countertop. "Hey, Salad, wake up! Lettuce and daisies, as usual, and on the double!"
The other stallion trotted to his side. "If I order the same, will you make it faster?"
Salad pulled another bread roll from under the counter. "Uh, yeah? Mah-maybe?"
"Then do it."
Salad shrugged and pulled out one more bread roll. Shining Shoes looked over the other stallion with an appraising eye.
"Look who's busy," he said, trying to make out what was written on the papers sticking out from the stallion's bags. "You late or something?"
The other stallion didn't look back. "Just busy with my jobs."
"Jobs, eh? Must be pretty close by, you don't look like much of a runner."
The orange-maned stallion turned to look at Shining Shoes, his eyebrows twitching slightly. "Oh, pray tell, what did I do to warrant such an assessment?"
Shining Shoes chuckled and turned away. "I just think you look too spent for no real reason," he said.
The other stallion went silent for a second. He struck a hoof on the pavement, bringing up a cloud of dust. "No reason?! You try exhausting yourself on two jobs you hate, and only do the thing you love in the evening, and still get no enjoyment from it!"
Salad Hooves paused in his sandwich-making and looked up. Barely stifling a chuckle, Shining Shoes lifted his eyebrows.
"Wait, that came out wrong," the third stallion said, slapping his forehead. "I'm a musician, dammit!"
"Musician, huh?" Shining Shoes said. "Whatcha do for a livin', pass papers around?" He laughed. "Try working outside six to ten on a job with no weekends, then we'll talk."
The musician huffed and ran a hoof along his mane. "That so? Must be nice, being outside on a real job. Bet you don't have a boss who always nags and browbeats you for fun."
"Oi, glasses!"
The three ponies turned towards the newest arrival. A little colt with a spotted light brown coat and unwashed black mane looked up at the sandwich stand towering over him. A dirty blue scarf hung from his neck, untied ends swaying in the wind. A short horn jutted from his forehead.
"You got any choclit' milk?"
"Hey, kid, get in line!" the musician said, baring his teeth and waving at the colt.
The colt paid him no mind. "Ah got no bits to pay, can I have some milk for free?" His face never changed expression from the blank, tired slate that it was.
The musician's eyes widened. He leaned over the colt, shouting into his ears, "Hey, kid! You want milk, pay your own money! And get a job!"
The colt slowly turned to the musician and opened his mouth. The diction, inventiveness and structural "levels" of his language were not surprising for a Manehattan street colt, but knowing that fact did nothing to lessen the obscenity of the words said. By the time the three stallions were done ungluing their ears from their heads, the colt was long gone, vanishing into one alley or another.
The stallions silently turned away, and Salad Hooves went back to chopping vegetables with grim determination.
"…You don't have to run around on the streets in the worst December weather in years," Shining Shoes said just above his breath.
The musician sighed. "Who's your boss?" he asked.
"Nopony important." Shining Shoes said. "Why? You gonna complain?"
The musician shook his head. He turned his eyes to the ground, his lips curving downwards in a frown. "My music teacher hates me. Utterly hates, and I don't know why. He hates me, he curses at me, and says that I have no talent. He's a great, known musician, but that's a problem: if I ever truly piss him off, I'll never get a job as a musician anywhere in this city."
Shining Shoes pondered for a second. He patted musician on his shoulder. "Tough break, kid."
"Do-doh-done!" Salad Hooves said, throwing his forelegs in the air. "Finally. Sorry for the deh-eh-delay."
He passed the first sandwich to Shining Shoes and took the money in return. Before he could take a bite and trot off, Salad asked, "Hey, Mister Shoes? You think that phi-phi-pink pony was right?"
Shining Shoes looked Salad in the eye, lifting his brows. "That puff-head? What she said about a better day?" He looked up at the heavy lead clouds broken above. "Maybe, in some quaint little village out East, but not in this city. Nothin' works in Manehattan." Shoulders slumped and eyelids heavy, Shining Shoes looked back at Salad. "Snow is six days late. Why should it start today?"
Shining Shoes bit on his sandwich, and trotted off, leaving Salad to stare at the empty pavement for the second time in the day. His whole body tensed and his lips tightened into a line as a spring coiled within him, pressed taut by the words echoing in his head.
"So, how much do I owe you?" the musician asked, trotting up and grabbing his sandwich.
"Three bits," Salad said.
The musician turned to search in his saddlebags, and Salad used the pause to reach for his own bag. Throwing the flap open, he paged through the papers and notebooks. Finally, between his literature textbook and an album full of silly doodles, Salad Hooves found a circle of faded pink construction paper with uneven edges.
"MY PURSE!"
Salad jumped at the scream, hitting his head on the underside of the counter and almost dropping the paper. The musician's saddlebags lay opened and thoroughly searched on the pavement, and the owner himself screamed over them, shaking his hooves at the sky.
"Somepony stole by bucking purse!"
"Hey! Hey!" Salad said, grabbing his foreleg. "It's oh-oh-okay."
"But now I can't pay—"
"I won't tah-take your food away just cause your purse's sth-stolen."
The musician nodded, and Salad let go of his leg. "I'll come back later, after I'm finished with my shift. I'll have money then, I'll pay you back."
"I'm working here all day today, I'll reh-reh-remember you."
The musician picked up his bags and fastened them on. He grabbed his sandwich in his teeth and, with one last nod, went on his way.
As soon as the musician disappeared from view, Salad stole a glance at the diner across the street. A single lamp shone over the counter—at this time of the day, the owner was pretty much still asleep. As was the rest of the city, not counting Shining Shoes, unlucky musicians and pink tourists. Pondering over the facts, Salad decided that leaving the stand closed for a bit would do no harm.
He put the food trays away and locked the cupboards with a key. The umbrella only closed after a fight. Salad brushed dust from his hooves and picked up his bags. Just before leaving, he slammed a "Back in fifteen" sign on the counter.
The old piece of construction paper felt oddly energizing in Salad's hooves. He traced the bold letters and ran his hoof over whatever glitter still held on the glue.
"Today's the day, Hooves!" He grinned and hid the card in a pocket of his woolen sweater. "I can do this. Just gotta go and— Wait!"
He stopped mid-stride and looked around. Thankfully, he only managed five paces before he caught himself.
"Can't screw this up now, gotta do everything by the book. What did that book say, again?"
He looked all over himself, checking and double-checking everything from a list memorized a long time ago. Hooves—trimmed. Breath—odorless. Clothes—acceptable. Mane—as good as it will ever get. Glasses—not too terrible.
Something was missing. Salad let his eyes wander while he wracked his brain, and eventually, he noticed the lighted windows of the florist's. Clapping his hooves in glee, Salad cantered across the road.
The door chime was probably imported—too subtle to chime like that in Manehattan. It reminded Salad that he never actually entered the shop before, despite working just across the street for several months. The door slammed shut behind him, and Salad accidentally dropped his jaw to the floor.
The place was filled with a variety of flora—more on the level of a botanical garden that a florist's store. A gallery of plants in designer vases lined every wall, even behind the unoccupied counter. Both ordinary staples and unknown exotics. Thin stems, thick stems, wavy stems, not-green stems and even flowers that had no stems! Reds, whites, blues, and an occasional splash of black. This was clearly no eatery, however, as indicated by signs hung all over.
Salad wondered who could run such a store. He wondered if they were pink—
"Hello there!"
Salad bounced in place and turned around, stifling a gasp. The mare wasn't pink, thankfully, but only a pale lavender. Her light green mane was braided in dozens of thin braids, accentuating the similar embroidered patterns on her silk jacket. She smiled ear-to-ear and took Salad's hoof into her own.
"Welcome to 'Floristicka', the best decorative flower shop in Manehattan!"
She shook his leg, and Salad could only nod in return. The air turned—or was it always?—oddly hot, but the pink card in his pocket reminded Salad of his mission.
"Aren't you the young stallion working the sandwich stand across the street? Nice to meet you!" she said, trotting a bit too close for comfort. "I'm Tulip Clef, but please, call me Tulip!"
Salad took a step back. "He-he-ha-hello. I'm Hooves. Salad Hooves."
Tulip let go of his hoof and trotted over to one of the displays, nodding for Salad to follow. "How can I help you today, Mister Hooves?"
"Well, uh… I was hoping to fah-fah-find…" Salad frantically searched his head for the word. "Flowers?"
"Of course." Tulip smiled and dropped a question that Salad was definitely not prepared for: "What kind?"
The question fell like a bombshell, but Salad stood his ground. There was no choice, but to be honest. "No idea. Does it matter?"
"Of course it does!" Tulip said, bringing a hoof to her chest, but not losing her smile. "The flowers don't matter nearly as much as what they say!"
Salad raised an eyebrow. "…Your flowers speak?"
Tulip giggled. "They do. To me." She winked and walked past him to the counter, giving Salad a view of the tri-colored ikebana emblazoned on her flank. Salad tore his gaze away and trotted after her.
"Flowers have their own language, and each kind sends their own message. Even the color matters. There's a lot of difference between a red and a white rose."
She gestured around herself, indicating the enormous collection of flowers with her hoof. "And I've got every message there is: 'I love you', 'I miss you', 'I forgive you', 'I'm sorry'… We've even got insults!"
"Insults?" Salad asked.
Tulip pointed towards the far corner, where a bunch of Wolfsbane plants stood in a glass vase. Salad's pupils shrunk to points. Tulip rolled her eyes. "They're detoxed, love. Won't die unless you eat a field's worth of them."
She turned his head back towards herself and stepped behind the counter. "Now, then. What shall it be?" she asked. "What does your heart want to say?"
Salad smiled and stroked his hoof over the pocket holding his card. "There's this filly I… loh-loh-like."
"Do tell me," Tulip said, narrowing her eyes, "what is she like?"
"Well, sh-she's beautiful. Like, really. And so k-k-kind and generous." He tried not to pay any mind to the warmth seeping into his cheeks. "She's got the biggest heart in Equestria."
Tulip smiled and sighed. "Then I'm sure that she'll answer you in kind."
"You th-think?"
"Of course. I know that. Nopony could resist such a charming young gentlecolt. And the flowers, well…" She winked at Salad, emphasizing with a nod. "They'll do their part. Just a little bit of magic."
"Great! Ahw-ahw-awesome!" Salad beamed and fished out his purse from his sweater. Two bits clattered on the counter. "Although I don't ha-ah-have more money to spare…"
To Tulip's credit, she only flinched, not losing her smile. "Well, I'm sure we'll think of something."
Five minutes later and two bits lighter, Salad walked out of the shop three red carnations wealthier. He settled on something in between a gallop and a canter and raced off towards his goal, dodging between the first and second pedestrians braving the streets of Manehattan. At the back of his head, he hoped that none of them had a craving for sandwiches.
The place wasn't far, just three block and two alleys that passed by in a blur. Salad slid to a stop around the corner, where he saw the squat building of the nursing home. Running a hoof through his mane and patting the sweater pocket, Salad marched on through the walkway.
"Okay, everything's set. Don't screw this up, Hoofsy, you can do it." He gulped down hard. "Just remember what the books said. And the zine articles. And that one novelty calendar, too." A bead of sweat slid down his cheek. "Then you'll be fine—objectively. And you can't argue with objectively. Can turn down objectively, but yeah."
He felt an odd sense of foreboding as he stepped into the shadow of the nursing home. "Oh wow, this is harder than it looked like." He unzipped his sweater and waved a hoof in front of his face. "Okay, so she'll turn you down—possibly, only possibly. So, she'll likely turn you down, so what? You're cool as you are, Hooves."
He arrived at the porch. The concrete steps looked impossibly high as he looked at them from above. "Oh, who am I kidding…" He reached into the pocket and took out the faded card. His eyes darted between it and the flowers in his saddlebags, and finally, he lowered his brows and grit his teeth together. "Today's the day."
Bringing his hooves down as hard as he could against the stairs, Salad climbed up to the front door and knocked three times. "This is it. No going back. Don't get scared now." He took the card in one hoof and the flowers in the other. "Keep cool, and you're cool. No stutters, no second doubts. And definitely no 'I love yous'."
The upper half of the door swung open.
"Meadow Smiles, I wah-wah… I mean, hello, Nuh-Nurse Dah-dah-dah-Dandelion."
The white giant that answered the door gazed down upon poor Salad, snorting in contempt. The top of her nurse cap brushed on the upper edge of the doorframe. The cap itself looked comical compared to her sprawling bigness.
"I wohn-wohn-wondered if Meadown Smiles could come out instead? I mean to play! I mean just out!"
Salad smiled as wide as medicine allowed, while Nurse Dandelion eyeballed him from head to toe. She held the pause for a second and said, "If she's free."
The door swung shut, and Salad let out a breath he's been holding. He held the flowers with the crook of his foreleg, and stared at his hoof.
"This is it. No going back. And if I screw this up, I'm gonna smash my hoof in my face as hard as I can, if that's what it takes."
The latch rattled on the door, and Salad quickly resumed his stance. The door opened fully, revealing a raspberry-coated filly of his age. Her strawberry blond mane, covered by a tiny nurse's cap, was done up in a short, wavy style, like on movie poster stars. She smiled once she saw him, and Salad noticed that his heart did not skip a beat.
"Oh, hey Sal—"
"Meadow Smiles, I wanted to give you this belated Hearts and Hooves day card, and gift you these flowers, and also wondered if you were free for lunch today?"
As Meadow stared, slack-jawed, at the gifts in her hooves, Salad let out a breath he must have been holding since six thirty. His mouth erupted in a grin, but he decided that he was cool enough to allow it.
"I love you, Meadow," he said, as an after-thought.
He didn't have the time to wipe off his grin or even raise his brows in surprise, as his own hoof rocketed towards his face at the speed of a late Friendship Express.
One icepack later, Salad Hooves sat on a couch inside the nursing home, cradling his puffed eye, while Meadow Smiles applied a new adhesive bandage to the cracked rims of his glasses.
"There, all done!" she said, passing him the spectacles.
"Thanks." He nudged them on, careful not to disturb his black eye.
"So, Salad," Meadow said, scooting closer to the colt. "Were you serious? I mean, with the card and all?"
Salad snapped his head to look at her, his eyes growing larger than his glasses. "What? You tha-tha-thought I was kidding? Even with the flowers?!"
"No, no, no, I didn't! The flowers are great!" Meadow glanced at the carnations standing in a vase on the table. "It's just that, well…"
She picked the hearts and hooves day card from the table and held it out before her.
"It's December. Why would you give me a hearts and hooves day card when, well, next h-and-h day is closer than the last one?"
Salad sighed and reclined on the couch. He rubbed his temple, pondering over the events of the day. "I'm not gonna lh-lie, I've been meaning to give that ca-ha-card for a while now." He felt, again, a rush of warmth to his cheeks. "Ever since you've went to that school dha-dha-dance a year ago…"
She laughed, covering her mouth with a hoof. Her laughter sounded like tiny pearls falling on silk, and the sound never failed to make Salad's ears twitch and stand at attention.
"Oh, sorry, sorry," Meadow said, her own cheeks turning a shade redder, "your stutter is cute."
"…Really? I thought it's super ahn-ahn-annoying."
Meadow continued covering her mouth, and waved for Salad to continue. A smile of his own appeared on Salad's lips.
"Well, I've made the card for last hearts and hooves, but I was just… too sh-shy, I guess. It's stupid, I know." He scratched his head and turned away. "But somepony told me that today's going to be good for me, and so I thought: today is the day.
"I mean, I ch-ch-could hide forever, fearing that you'll laugh at me and reject me and say how stupid I am, but I kept hoping. Ah-ah-always telling myself that tomorrow I'll be braver, that I'll do it. Held that card in my school saddlebags ever since.
"But each time, today turned into toh-tomorrow, and I kept putting it off. So I said, 'No!' and, well… Just did it, I guess."
He rubbed the back of his neck and turned to her, smiling through his blush. "I mean, I probably should have thought it over, but late is better than never, eh?"
She didn't answer. Her hoof fell to the couch, revealing her downcast face. Traces of moisture sparkled at the edges of her eyes.
"Uh, Meadow? Did I sh-sh-say some—"
"No!" she said. She rubbed her eyes and turned away, fidgeting with the red carnations to hide her face. "I'm sorry, I just… thought of something else."
"Oh. Okay." Salad sighed and stood up. "I should get going then. Thanks for fixing my gh-gh-glasses."
"Okay." Meadow turned back towards him. "So, when are you free today?"
Salad took a double take. "What?"
Meadow stroked her hair and gave Salad her trademark smile. "Well, I mean, I'm super busy today, but I'll have time in the evening for a movie, If you're not busy."
"I am! I mean, not. I can, I mean. Dah-dammit." Salad slapped his face with a hoof. Lightly. "You serious? You'd go out? With me?"
Meadow took his hoof. "How could I reject such a gentlecolt? Especially one who brought such beautiful flowers."
"I—Awesome! I mean, h-how about eight o'clock?"
"Great." Meadow nodded. "I'll see you once my shift ends. You still working that old sandwich stall?"
"Yeah."
"Well, then I'll find you." She glanced at the white giant sitting behind the reception desk, her eyes watching the pair. "I should really get back to work. Nurse Dandelion doesn't like dilly-dallying. Heh."
Salad nodded, and Meadow showed him to the door. He didn't drop his wide grin for a second, and kept assuring her that he'll be waiting. Meadow closed and bolted the door behind him and sighed.
Her head dropped down, and Meadow pulled the nurse cap off. She shuffled to the reception desk and placed the white hat before Nurse Dandelion.
"Miss Dandelion?" Meadow looked up, her face devoid of all light that was there a minute ago. "Can I be excused for an hour?"
The nurse stopped her scribbling in the book and raised an eyebrow in question.
"I want to go see Sandy."
Nurse Dandelion sighed and slouched down by a centimeter, her neck craning down to stare into the book. "One hour."
Meadow smiled and reached over the desk to kiss the nurse's cheek. "Thank you." She turned around and rushed outside, mindful of the clock.
Her destination wasn't far, but the trip took too long. But Meadow Smiles never felt her hooves get cold even once. Only one pony was on her mind, the others appeoccasionallyionaly as mere stray thoughts: mother, father, Tender Care, Salad Hooves. But there wasn't any fear that could prevent her from reaching her goal. Not that day.
The trip passed like a blur. Five minutes at the bus stop. Fifteen in the bus. A large, white box with windows appeared at the end of the street, and Meadow got off at the nearest stop. She cantered the short distance, and walked, without hesitation, inside the sterilized walls.
She asked for directions, but took the stairs instead of the elevator. The long-term care ward was far at the back of the hospital, far from any noise or commotion, and Meadow did not want to waste even a minute more.
Blue swinging doors loomed up ahead, and for the first time, a tightness appeared in her throat. Meadow swallowed and walked on, not daring to look back even once. Steeling herself, she walked through the doors, and stopped dead in her tracks.
Two nurses talked near the nurse station. One was from the hospital, but the other wore the distinct uniform of a private caretaker agency. The mare had a white coat and a pale blue mane done up in a bun. Her frost-blue eyes glanced down the corridor. Her eyebrows jumped in surprise when she noticed Meadow.
Meadow swallowed hard. Her tail curled over her hind leg. She trembled as the nurse left the station and walked towards her, her hooves falling hard against the floor. Meadow leaned back, but stood her ground as the nurse approached, her head lowered to look Meadow straight in the eyes.
"You." She stopped centimeters away from Meadow, bearing down on the filly with all her authority. "What are you doing here?"
Meadow concentrated on her breathing, but she couldn't bear to look the nurse in the eye. "Miss Tender Care, I came to see my sister."
Nurse Care held the silence for a second, boring the girl's head with her stare. She stepped away and straightened her neck. "You know, there's a point after which it's better to never come rather than come late. I think five years is plenty for that point to pass."
"I-I know. And I'm sorry." Meadow struggled to maintain even breaths. "But I've decided. I'm going to visit Sandy today, no matter what."
Tender Care narrowed her eyes. "If you think that this will get you in good favor with your parents…"
"No!" Meadow almost shouted, catching herself at the last moment. "I… I just figured that it's time."
"And why should I believe you? It wasn't time for five years, and today is the day?"
Meadow swallowed and looked Tender Care in the eye. Her tears left wet trails on her cheeks, but she did not blink. "I know you hate me, Miss Care, but it doesn't matter. I have to see my sister." She sniffled and rubbed her snout. "My parents never said that I couldn't visit her."
Tender Care looked over the disheveled filly, at the dark circles her tears left on the carpet. She sighed and turned around. "No, they haven't."
Tender Care nodded for Meadow to follow. She rubbed her wet eyes and trotted after the nurse.
"And for the record," Tender Care said, "I don't hate you. I just want you to feel guilty."
"I know," Meadow said. "I do."
They entered through one of the many doors in the corridor, distinguishable only by the number sign. The room was obviously more lavish than the usual, with thick, embroidered curtains and a soft carpet smelling of shampoo. Flowers and stuffed toys were on every surface that could hold them. The only sounds were the flapping of curtains on December wind, and the steady whirring of sterilized machinery.
Meadow Smiles trotted to the bed. She fought hard against her tears, to keep her sight clear, but they came nonetheless. The sky-blue filly slept on pillows filled with pegasus down, covered with silk blankets embroidered with stars. There were fewer tubes than Meadow remembered.
"Sandy…" Meadow reached for her sister's foreleg. She fell on her haunches, tears streaming freely, and cried as she held the motionless hoof up to her cheek.
"Did she… wake up? Ever?" Meadow asked.
"No. Not once."
"Is there still some chance?" Meadow looked at Nurse Care.
"Technically, there is, but…" She looked down at the floor and turned away. "After five years…"
Meadow sniffed. "I know." She looked back at her sister and leaned closer to her.
"…Sandy, it's me, Meadow. You probably can't hear me, but I want you to know, I have to tell you that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for doing this to you. Always have been, every day.
"And I'm sorry for not coming earlier. I know I was stupid, and it was five years ago, but that doesn't excuse me." Meadow sighed and stroked Sandy's hoof. "I kept thinking that you might wake up. I knew you could, so I used that excuse. I kept telling myself that if you wake up, everything will be okay again, like it used to be.
"But you never did, day after day. And every day, the chances turned smaller and smaller. But I was too scared to face it. I can only hope that you can forgive me."
Meadow stood up, and lowered her sister's leg back to her side. She leaned over and ran a hoof through Sandy's long, bubblegum-pink mane.
"I promise I won't be afraid of seeing you anymore. I'll visit again, every time I can. And I'll talk to our parents, and make up with them somehow. I don't know how, but I'll find a way. I hope they'll forgive me too."
Meadow walked away from the bed, and trotted towards Nurse Care. Her eyes were dry, but the nurse pursed her lips and stared at the ground.
"And you, Miss Care," Meadow said.
"What?"
"I know you can't stand me, but that doesn't matter. You've cared for my sister every day for five years." Meadow leapt up and hugged her, much to Tender Care's surprise. "Thank you, thank you for everything."
Meadow let go, and Tender Care stepped back, nervously flexing her shoulders. "Well, in the end, you did the right thing," she said. "And that's really all that matters."
"When can I come visit Sandy again?"
"Anytime, Meadow. I won't hold you up."
Meadow smiled, and Tender Care realized that she never saw the filly smile before. Her eyes were red, her cheeks wet, but that smile could light up the night.
"I should get going, I've got to get back to work," Meadow said.
Tender Care led the filly to the door, giving her an earnest goodbye. She kept staring at the corridor long after Meadow left. Finally, Nurse Care sighed and went back to her duties.
Two hours later, Tender Care's shift was over. Those two hours were enough for her to make up her mind, and they left her with enough time to not be late. She put away her uniforembarkedmbraked on a bus headed to the intersection of Seventh and Saddle. She had just enough time to visit the best florist she knew.
The bell chimed in its rolling, comforting way, and the owner walked into view.
"Hello, welcome to— Oh, Miss Care, it's nice to see you again." Tulip took a step back once she recognized her customer. Her eyes darted to a half-full vase on one of the shelves.
"Hello, Tulip," Tender Care said, wiping her hooves on the doormat. "I was hoping to—"
"Oh, is something wrong with the lilies I got you?" The corners of Tulip's smile twitched. "Did I make the wrong selection for you? Or did they die? They died, didn't they?"
Tender Care placed her hoof over Tulip's mouth. "The lilies all right, you did well with them." She removed her hoof, but kept her stern eyes on Tulip. "I need another set of flowers. For a different affair."
Tulip smiled and nodded. She walked over to the counter and picked up a thick ring binder listing all of the flowers in "Floristicka". "Okay, what would you like to say this time? I take it since this is an affair—"
"It's not a literal affair, Tulip." Tender Care raised her voice, and Tulip chuckled in return. "There's somepony I need to reconnect with."
Tulip closed the binder without looking. "I know exactly what you need."
Ten minutes later, a much more somber and louder bell chimed over the door to the diner across the street. Tender Care cringed at the coat of dust on the floor, holding her two red and three white roses closer to her body. A smell of grease permeated the place. Some of the seats had their red covers ripped, revealing the wood underneath.
Tender Care took a seat at the counter, ordered a coffee, and waited.
There weren't many customersSaturdayaturday evening. Lunch finished, but dinner wasn't going to come any time soon. Ponies entered, ate, and left, without so much as a stray word to each other. Even couples or groups spoke in vain, their words floating away on the stale air, forgotten. Among them, Tender Care looked awfully colorful thanks to the contrast of the roses she held.
Three coffees and one hour later, he still hadn't appeared. Most ponies preferred dining at home in this weather, but he always ate here, at this time. But the only ponies in the diner were her, the owner, and a unicorn colt drinking chocolate milk at a table near the back. Tender Care sighed and put the bit for her latest coffee on the counter.
The door swung open, rattling the bell. "Hey, Mister Grub, I'm here for a refill!"
Without thinking, Tender Care turned to look at the newcomer, but naturally, it wasn't him. Wasn't even his voice. The young stallion that entered had a an old sweater on, an awful mess of hair on his head, and glasses that looked like they could fall apart at any minute. Most interesting was the huge black eye on his face.
The owner grunted something incomprehensible and disappeared inside the kitchen. The young stallion parked himself on the stool next to Tender Care. She noticed his beaming smile and chuckled into her hoof.
"Hey, what's funny? Do I have something in my mai-mai-mane?" He ran a hoof through the unruly bush on his head.
"Oh no, sorry." Tender Care said. "I just never saw a pony with such a big smile and a black eye at the same time."
The stallion chuckled and nodded. "Well, I got it for a proh-proper reason. This thing got me a date!" He pointed at his swollen eye. "Well, in a way it did. Sorta."
"I sure hope she was worth it," Tender Care said and drank the last drops of brew in her cup.
"Oh yeh-yeah! Definitely." He struck his hoof against the table for emphasis. "She's the most loving fih-fih-filly ever. Generous, kind, drop-dead gorgeous, too."
"Well, good luck to you two then, I'm sure that she's a nice filly."
The stallion noticed the roses on the table. "Oh, hey, you're on a dah-date too?" He leaned over and sniffed the delicious flowers.
"Eh, not really." Tender Care waved him away from her personal space. "I'm waiting for my brother, but it looks like he won't show up after all."
"Oh, well, I'm sure he's got a reason."
"The thing is, we haven't really planned anything. I was just hoping to catch him here." She sighed and rolled her stiff shoulders. "He's got a busy job with a strict schedule, so he always dines here at this time. Guess something happened."
The stallion fidgeted with his hooves and squirmed in his seat. "Well, can't you meet him at his house after he's free?"
"I could, but there's something I want to do with him tonight, and he won't ever be free unless I convince him."
"Well, then simply reschedule," the stallion said. "I'm sure that you'll meet him tomorrow."
Tender Care stared at the roses lying in front of her, pondering. She took a deep breath and said, "Our father died in an accident exactly a year ago. I was hoping we could go put flowers on his grave together."
The stallion frowned and turned away. "I'm sorry."
"No, it's okay."
He tapped his hooves together in thought. "Umm, why won't he go by himself?"
Tender Care sighed. "Because he's a coward. He always says that he's got too much work, that he can't afford to go, but that's just excuses."
She pushed the empty cup in line with the other two. "A year ago, my brother and our father got in a really bad fight, and they never forgave each other. Then dad got in an accident…" She rubbed her eyes and sighed. "Damn, I got sentimental for some reason."
"Oh, I'm soh-soh-sorry for prying…"
"No, no, I'm to blame. I shouldn't have dumped all of that on you. I just saw… something, and figured that, well, we're still family." She looked the young stallion in the eye, through his thick glasses. "I hated him for his cowardice, but family's got to forgive, no? That's why it's family."
She stood up, taking the roses with herself. "I thought that today might be a better day…"
She turned to leave, but the young stallion grabbed her hoof. "Hey, it is better! I can say with coh-cogh-confidence. Just give him a chance—the day's not over yet."
Tender Care chuckled, and shook her head. The stallion sighed and turned away.
Tender Care stepped onto the cold, but still snowless streets. Ponies with normal lives hurried home, crossing streets or jumping aboard late buses. She threw the roses into the closest trash can and walked to the bus stop.
She walked only five paces when doubt began to creep into her mind. She stopped and looked back inside the diner: the young stallion was discussing something with the owner over a box of produce, gesturing a bit more than was probably needed.
The door chime caught her attention. A unicorn colt with an unwashed black mane and woolen scarf left the store and trotted in her direction. Tender Care eyed the colt with a narrow stare, while he did his best not to look at her. Just as they passed each other, a scream sounded from inside, muffled by the windows: "My purse!"
The kid took off like a rocket, but Tender Care had reflexes. In one move, she spun around and jumped after the colt, catching his tail with her teeth. The colt screamed and waved his legs frantically as he lost purchase on the ground and rose into the air. Nurse Care dangled him for a second before she spit out his tail.
She grabbed the colt by the shoulders before he could run away again, and turned him to face her. "Now what do you think you're doing, young colt?"
The colt bared his teeth and barked at her, "Lemme go, I ain't stole nothin'!" He thrashed around, trying to get away, but Tender Care held him firmly in her grasp.
"Why did you run away then?"
"Maybe I like runnin'?" the colt growled. "Ya don't know anythin', so lemme go!"
"Now listen here, young colt!"
The gaze Nurse Care affixed on the colt could tame wild animals. Right away, the kid stopped resisting. He slumped in Tender Care's hooves, his challenging grimace dissolving into a submissive frown.
"Good," Tender Care said, easing her stare. "Now, you're going to stay here and do what I say until I let you go, understand?"
The colt nodded, and Nurse Care let go of her grip. As he promised, the colt shrank back and looked away, but did not run.
"You're right, I don't know you, I don't know whether you've stolen that young gentlecolt's purse or not." She lowered her head to his level, took his chin in her hoof and made him look straight into her eyes. "But I do know your type. Young kids like you don't steal by themselves, or for themselves. Somepony's making you do this, right?"
The colt glanced to his side.
"Doesn't excuse you, though." Tender Care stood up and looked at him from above. "I could give you to the guard and let them decide whether you're a thief or not, or you could do the right thing and quit being a coward."
The colt rubbed his neck and looked down at the ground.
"It's not too late for you, you know," Tender Care said. "But you've got to make the choice yourself."
The colt looked up at her and stared for a few seconds. Without another word, he reached into the folds of his scarf and produced a small velvet pouch.
"Thank you," Tender Care said, taking the purse from him.
The colt stared at her, bug-eyed. "What for? For stealin'?"
"For telling the truth. In the end, you did the right thing, and that's all that matters."
The colt stared blankly into space as the door to the diner opened once more. The young stallion walked out, eyes glued to the floor, looking through every crack and crevice. Tender Care called him over, showing him the purse.
"Oh hey, you fah-fah-found it! I can't thank you enough."
"It's not me you should talk to, it's him," Tender Care said, pushing the colt before him.
The young stallion nudged his glasses and looked at the colt. "Oh, he found it? Th-tha-thank, buddy! Don't know what I'd—"
"He stole it, actually," Tender Care said.
"What?" The stallion frowned in thought. "I don't get it—HEY!"
Catching the moment, the colt took off, bolting straight between the stallion's legs. Tender Care tried catching him again, but she bumped into the stallion, sending them both to the ground.
"Wait! Come back!" shouted the mare, but the colt was too far away by then.
He galloped through the darkened streets, dodging the last and second-to-last pedestrians, weaving his route from street to street. The untied ends of his scarf waved behind him like a flag.
The colt ducked inside an alley, skidding on the dirty floor. He did not slow down, taking turns and ducking from one alley to another seemingly at random, when actually, he was following secret signs comprehensible only to a Manehattan street rat.
He squeezed through a gap in a broken chainlink fence, entering a secluded, and certainly not public, square. Blank walls and fences surrounded the place on all sides. In the center, a shack built out of scrap metal and plywood stood locked.
A door too small for an adult pony to walk through wentranceterance. The colt wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck and trotted up to the door. He knocked—three short knocks, two long—and a tiny window opened, a little higher on the door than his head.
A pair of eyes peered through. "Oi, Marmalade's back!" said a voice behind the door. The latch rattled open, and Marmalade walked in.
Coals burned in a barrel in the center of the shack, the smoke rising through an opening in the roof. Old trinkets lay all over the floor, discarded after their novelty wore off. Tattered blankets with crayon scribblings of fierce animals and tall, but misspelled, words hung on thetrophythrophy banners of childish, but very real, wars.
The door slammed shut behind him, and Marmalade looked around. The colt that let him in walked past, paying no attention to Marmalade, and sat down at a low table by the wall. Another colt, much younger than the others, rolled around a bunch of acorns and chestnuts in the corner.
Something moved in an alcove on the far wall. A gaunt shadow stood up, stretched, and walked into the light.
"You're sure bloody late fer bein' the fastest, Marm."
He was only fifteen, but among their kind, that was a distinction worthy of leadership. The older colt trotted to the barrel with an uneven gait, baring his rotten teeth. "Oi, what's the catch, Marm?"
"I ain't got nothin' for you, Thimblerig," Marmalade said, narrowing his eyes.
"Thassa shame." Thimblerig sat on his haunches and put his forelegs over the barrel, rubbing them together for effect. "You know the rules: no catch, no cut, no crying. Don't be comin' over tomorrows when you get starvin'."
Marmalade stood his ground, gaze locked firmly on Thimblerig. The colt in the corner noticed the glimmer in his eye, and stood up.
"Whatcha still doin' 'ere?" Thimblerig asked after a minute. "You got somethin' else to say?"
"Yeah, I do," Marmalade said, taking a step forward.
"Well I dun wanna hear it. You lost the catch, you—"
"I ain't lost it, I gave it back!"
Thimblerig took a double take. Marmalade felt how all eyes in the room were upon him.
"What?" Thimblerig said, standing up.
"I said, I ain't doin' no more stealin' for you, Thimblerig!" Marmalade pointed a hoof at him and raised his voice, baring his tiny teeth as much as he could. "I'm DONE!"
Thimblerig blinked, and then fell back on his haunches, laughing at the top of his lungs. The colt responsible for the door joined him, while the youngest of the three shrank back into the shadows.
"Lookit him! Tiny Marm, all big n' proud!" Thimblerig trotted up to Marmalade, towering over him. "Whatcha gonna do, eh? Steal for yerself, or starve? Or maybe you wanna go to the foal house, eh, Marm?" Thimblerig reached for Marmalade's tiny horn, but he smacked his hoof away.
"It's better than stealin' for a berk like you," Marmalade said.
Thimblerig huffed. "Fine. Suit yerself. Just don't even think of crawlin' back or beggin'. We don't take no beggars 'ere."
Marmalade dug his hooves deeper into the sand on the floor. "I ain't finished." He narrowed his eyes and lowered his head. "Where's the catch I brought in the mornin'? Give it back."
Thimblerig's eyes widened like dinner plates. "You serious?" He glanced at the other colts and pointed at Marmalade. "Is this colt serious?"
He reached into the folds of his scarf and pulled out a velvet pouch on a string. "Good thing I saved this thing till the evenin' cutting." He dangled the purse from the tip of his hoof, swinging it back and forth. "You forget who I am? What I can do?"
Thimblerig hooked the string over a jagged edge of the barrel. He narrowed his eyes and took a step closer to Marmalade.
"You forgettin' who ya are, Marm."
Marmalade snorted and spit on the ground. "I sure ain't a coward."
Thimblerig chuckled, his mouth widening into a cracked grin. The chuckle grew into laugh, and then into a bellow. Thimblerig scratched his side. "This is rich! Tiny Marm grew a pair! Or stole one!"
He waved a hoof, ordering the other colts to his side. The older one joined him, but the younger cowered in his corner. "I wanna see this. Three of us… I said THREE of us." Thimblerig barked, and the younger colt scampered up to him, barely holding his hooves from shacking like leaves.
"Right, that's three of us. An' one of you. You still wanna go?"
Marmalade spread his forelegs and tensed his hind legs like springs. He pointed his horn at the tiny velvet pouch hanging from the edge of the barrel.
The grin vanished from Thimblerig's face. "You've gotta be kiddin' me."
Among the colts, Marmalade was the fastest.
The sun was still up in the sky, somewhere behind the clouds. Down on the streets, darkness descended. The intersection between Seventh and Saddle emptied, save for the shadows dancing on pavements in front of the two shops.
The staccato of a brisk trot filled the air, graya grey stallion with an orange mane and two bulging saddlebags emerged from behind a corner. Panting, he trotted up to a deserted sandwich stand and frowned.
"Oh for Celestia's sake, late again?" he said and dropped his head.
The street lamps woke up, one after the other, spilling showers of orange light along the two streets. The one closest to the stallion flickered to life, revealing a disheveled stallion with a tangled black mane. His jacket was draped over his shoulders, sleeves hanging loose, and his tie fell from his neck in two red lines. He sat on the pavement, leaning against the lamppost, staring at the diner across the street.
"Hey, it's you!" said the musician, smirking. "Already tired of running?"
Shining Shoes looked at him. "You. Figures." His gaze fell on the ground. "This day just keeps falling into place. Like a puzzle."
"What are you doing here?" asked the musician. "I thought your job kept you six to ten."
"That it did." Shining Shoes rubbed his nose and snorted. "Used to."
The musician cringed and turned away. "Condolences."
"Hey, your teacher kick you out yet?" Shining Shoes asked.
"No, not yet."
"Good, good." Shining Shoes slipped his forelegs through the sleeves of his jacket. "The coincidences have got to end somewhere."
"I came to pay back for that morning sandwich," said the musician. "What are you doing here?"
Shining Shoes reached into the pocket of his jacket and took out five golden bits. "Last change I've got on myself. Figured I'd buy a lettuce and daisy before I go home, but it looks like that kid's got a better place to be right now." He sighed and put the bits back in his pocket. "Don't know what to do with 'em now."
The musician chuckled. "You know, there's a lot of things you could buy in Manehattan for five bits, if you know where to look." He tapped his chin in thought. "I once bought a full set of spare piano keytops for five bits. You should hold onto those bits—the day's not over yet."
"Don't think that this day's gonna get any better." Shining Shoes stood up and brushed the dust off of his haunches. "Nothing works today, not running, not snow… Not carriage brakes."
He sighed and looked up at the sky and the burning lightbulb of the street lamp. Something sparkled in the orange light. It danced down the air in a spiral, and Shining Shoes watched, wide-eyeunblinkinglnking, as the white fly fell on his nose and disappeared into a drop of water. More fell from the sky, and more after them. Both stallions watched in silence as the snow powdered the street, coating the cold, gray pavement with a fuzzy white blanket.
Something fell and crashed in the alley nearby. The two stallions gasped and jumped back, gazing into the dark. A trash can lid rolled out into the street and clattered on the ground. And then, he stepped out.
The colt's spotted brown coat was stained with black bruisefavoredvoured his right hind leg, giving himself a clumsy, slow gait. The tip of his stubby horn was covered with red, and the liquid trickled down to his forehead.
In his mouth, the colt held onto a tiny velvet pouch on a string.
The musician gasped. "My purse!"
The colt smiled and collapsed on the ground.
As if to add insult to injury, the studio was on the top floor of the building. The musician sighed and mentally prepared himself for the challenge ahead. He quickly stretched his abused back and jumped over the first few steps. He cantered up the stairs, counting under his breath the rhythm of his own steps.
The musician ascended and stopped before a plain white door. He gathered his breath and knocked. As usual, nopony answered, but the door was unlocked.
The air inside smelled of tea and old parchment. The musician dropped his bags on the polished wooden floor. "Mister Clef? I am sor—"
A rough, low voice sounded from somewhere in the studio. "Staccato!" The owner of the voice, a squat, fat stallion with a blue coat and agrayy grey mane walked out the door at the end of the corridor. He trotted over to the musician, his eyebrows angled in anger. "You're late again, Staccato."
Staccato willed his hooves to stay put. "Mister Clef, I can explain—"
"Sure you can, I came to expect that from you by now." Octave Clef stopped right under Staccato's chin and looked up at him with a cringe. "But one hour, thirteen minutes? Ha! I want to hear your excuse for this time."
Staccato gulped. "Well, you see, Mister Clef, first I've had my purse stolen."
"So you didn't have bus fare? And it took you an hour to trot over here?" Clef asked, raising a brow.
"No, sir, that's not it," Staccato said, rubbing his neck. "You see, I've returned to pay for my sandwich—"
"Sandwich?"
"Uhh, let's just say I've came back to the place where my purse was stolen. And when I got there, I've met the kid who stole my purse, and he returned it to me." Staccato glanced to the side, suddenly feeling the odd and uncomfortable sensation of telling a truth that sounded like a bad lie. "But the colt was beaten up, so I had to see him to the hospital, because I've had to thank him. Bought him some chocolate milk—"
"Enough!" Clef rubbed his nose and shook his head. "Did you seriously think that I would believe that? You're not even trying anymore."
Staccato shrugged.
"Just go to the instrument…" Clef said, trotting off into the studio. "And don't tell me that you weren't planning on playing today! You'll be playing until dawn if you have to."
Staccato sighed and trotted after Clef. They entered the studio proper, a large inner sanctum with a pearl-white piano acenterpieceepiece.
Staccato took his seat before the piano. "What shall I play?"
"Beethoofen… No, Horsehoespin's fourteenth. You're still pretty bad at it," Clef said.
Staccato flipped the notes to the movement and played. His hooves danced over the keys, filling the room with a gentle symphony. Octave Clef stood by the window, humming the melody to himself and tapping his hoof every time Staccato couldn't hit the notes perfectly.
"Talent is worthless without work, Staccato," he said. "But if you focus on improvement, even without any talent at all, you can make something of yourself. If only you understood that…"
Staccato's hoof twitched, pressing on two keys instead of one. The movement hit a bump, and Clef jumped, flattening his ears against his head.
"What was that? You did that on purpose!" He ran up to Staccato's face and tapped his hoof on the note paper and said, "Again! From the beginning!"
The music began anew. Clef paced across the room, no longer paying attention to the tune.
"You don't care, you don't understand," he said, shaking his head. "We're wasting time in here if you don't want to go the extra mile!
"I've given you so much—my time and knowledge, my attention! And what do I get in return? No motivation or desire to improve! An artist must give himself wholly to the art, while you're just wasting time with silly—"
The music stopped with a sudden crash as Staccato slammed the heavy fallboard down. He breathed heavily, staring off into space. "What kind of a stallion am I, if a colt's got more courage than me?" He turned towards Clef, pursing his lips in anger. "Am I a mouse, or a… musician?"
"What the hay are you doing?" Clef asked, blinking.
"You're right, Mister Clef—I don't have any motivation. Not with you as my teacher." Staccato stood up and walked over to Clef, staring him in the eye. "I'm not going to take this any more. I quit."
"…You too." Clef narrowed his eyes and ground his teeth together. "You too. I take you in, give you a chance despite you showing no promise, and this is how you repay me? Why? Why can't you be thankful and think about what I did for you?"
Staccato took a deep breath and swallowed the pride stuck in his throat. "I do. And I am. I know that I wouldn't have gotten anywhere without your help. But this isn't worth it.
"Perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps I should grin and bear it. But I'm not going to. I'm going to do what I want. You do what you want, throw your weight around anywhere you see fit. If I'll never find work as a musician, I'll manage—I've already got two other jobs."
Staccato turned away. "I don't know why you're doing this to me, but I'm sure there is a reason. Ponies don't just shout at other ponies for the sake of it. Maybe your reason is valid—but feeling pain yourself does not give you the right to inflict pain on others!"
Clef stood, mouth agape. He could only blink as Staccato shook his head and trotted to the door.
"I'll see myself out."
Clef picked up his jaw and hurried after his student. "Wait, Staccato, wait!" Clef caught up with him in the corridor and placed a hoof on his back.
"I'm—I'm sorry, Staccato. All I've said, I've said because I thought it would help you. But I've never really thought about what I was saying."
Clef gulped and looked Staccato in the eye. "Don't leave, please. You've got a talent, you really do. A stupid old stallion like me isn't the reason to throw it away!"
Staccato glanced away. Clef sighed and said, "Listen, there is somepony that I absolutely must visit right now and apologize to. I know you're upset, but think this over. I'll be back in an hour or two, so why don't you stay here and we'll talk after I'm back?"
Staccato looked back at the inner sanctum, at the white piano barely visible through the door. "Well, I was planning on playing today…"
"Great!" Clef said, smiling. "Hold the fort while I'm gone, all right?" Clef quickly wrapped a scarf around his neck and opened the door.
"What shall I play?" Staccato asked.
"Whatever you fancy!" Clef said and ran out, slamming the door behind him.
He rushed down the stairs and into the cold outside. The snow covered the streets with a shallow, crunchy coat. Clef forgot about the snow and the streets as he galloped to his destination. Only one thought was on his mind: the slim hope that the best florist he knew still hasn't closed her store.
Three blocks passed by in a blur of flashing traffic lights, and Clef found himself on the intersection of Seventh and some other street. His lips widened in a grin as he saw an orange light falling from the glass walls of the store.
The chime sounded with an odd, rolling melody. She was standing on her hind legs in front of one of the shelves, balancing a vase on her snout. "Hello! Welcome to 'Floristicka'," she said without turning around. "Let me just finish he—"
"Tuplet!" he cried after catching his breath.
She flinched and turned around, eyes wide, pupils shrunk. "…Dad?"
The vase fell down. The plastic bounced off the wood, but eleven red tulips carpeted the floor.
They stood among the sea of flowers, watching each other, not moving. He planned on seeing her like this, on closing that final distance and holding her in a tearful embrace. But a veil of awkwardness hung in the air, and his eyes weren't moist enough. Clef thought that, perhaps, epiphanic monologues were overrated.
"I'm… I'm sorry, Tuplet," he managed to say through his dry throat. "I'm sorry for putting you through everything I did, just for following your own heart. I really, honestly thought that you were to become the next Clef maestro."
He took a deep breath and looked away. "I poured so much of myself into you, so much that, when you said that you were going to have none of it, I just…
"That was just selfish, criminally selfish of me. I've inflated my imaginary pain so much that I forgot about the pain I've dealt to you. And others…"
"Dad…" Tulip said, drops of water falling from her cheeks on the red flowers below.
"I don't care if its flutes or flowers, Tuplet. I just hope that you can—"
Tulip leapt over the short distance separating them and locked Clef in bone-crushing embrace. Clef got the wind knocked right out of him, but as a dutiful father, he endured.
"Of course! Of course I'll forgive you!" Tulip said, crying without restraint. "And I'm sorry too."
Clef saw the watery blur arise over his vision. First tears left wet trails on his cheek. "Don't be. You've got nothing to be sorry for."
Tulip sniffled and laughed into the crook of his neck.
They stood like that for minutes, rocking themselves and basking in their mutual warmth.
"So…" Clef said. "Should I call you Tuplet or Tulip?"
Tulip giggled and let go. "Tuplet's fine, dad."
Clef looked her over and sighed. "I've missed you for too long. Is there somewhere we can…"
"Oh, sure! There's a diner across the street that should be open." She looked around. "I've got to clean this place up and lock up first, though. Can you wait for me there?"
"Okay." Clef nodded. "Would you like me to grab you a coffee or a tea?"
"Green tea, please." Tulip grinned and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll be quick."
Clef rubbed his cheek and stepped outside. Before the door swung shut, somepony wedged their hoof in and propped it open. A stallion with a tangled black mane and a dirty brown jacket walked inside.
"Sorry, you still open?" he asked, carefully stepping over the flowers on the floor. "I was just… window shopping, and saw you two. Got me thinking and, well…" He stopped and took a deep breath. "There's something that I must do today."
Tulip rubbed the last tears out of her eyes and smiled. "Well, you're already inside, won't be good to throw you out."
The stallion bowed his head and smiled back. "Much obliged."
"So, what do you need?"
"I was hoping that you'd help me with that bit," the stallion said, looking around at the myriads of flowers all over the store. "Something inexpensive, please, I've only got five bits."
"Well, what do you want to say?" Tulip leaned on a shelf, tilting her head. "'I love you', 'I'm sorry', 'I forgive you'…"
"What if it's all three?" the stallion asked.
Tulip regarded the stallion from head to toe, stopping to gaze into his eyes. She stared for a long time, making him fidget with unease. A star flashed in her eyes, like a silver string catching a ray of sunlight. Tulip's face again lighted up with a smile.
"I know exactly what you need."
She reached into the shelf and brought out a vase half-filled with white flowers. "White lilies," she said, passing him five. "Only one bit a piece, so it should—"
The stallion shook his head and returned one of the flowers. "I'll take four. I need an even number."
Tulip's smile curved downward. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't guess correctly. My condolences."
"No, that's okay," the stallion said.
She took another lily out of the vase and gave it to him. "Take one more instead. On the house. I insist."
He nodded and took the flower.
The streets were completely empty, save for the December wind blowing through fresh snowflakes. But no matter what, there was a place in Manehattan that always felt emptier than the most desolate street. Two acres of peace and silence in the loudest city in Equestria.
Snow spared the cemetery, only lightly dusting the ground. Shining Shoes could see the brown soil underneath the white coat. The gravestone was clear as well, the epitaph exactly the same as he memorized it. He remembered the marker being bigger, though.
"It's been a while." He cringed and rubbed his forehead. "Ahh, I'm no good at this."
He took a deep breath and started over. "I'm sorry, dad. For… for everything, really. It's been a year already, but I never visited even once. Only on the funeral, and even then…"
He looked over the cemetery wall at the glowing skyline, lost in thought.
"I'm a coward. Nothing else to it. Nothing but excuses, always running somewhere, but actually running away." He sighed.
"I should be angry about our fight, about my last memories of your face being warped by rage. But I don't. I can't even remember what we were fighting about." He chuckled and rubbed his neck. "I only remember that we were both equally stupid about it, like Tender said in the first place."
"I'm not going to be stupid like that anymore. I'm tired of running. It's a shame that it took a day like today to make me see it."
"Today? Today was different, definitely. I've lost my job, but compared to everything else, getting fired feels more like a footnote than an event. I don't know how to properly explain it. I saw a bloody and beaten colt pickpocket return a purse he stole to its owner. I saw two ponies I've never met before in the most touching moment of their lives. Also something pink, but I can't remember what exactly."
"But the real thing was more of a feeling. I realized it just now. I saw all those things happen, and felt a sort of… connection, I guess. A network bigger than anypony could imagine. Like a chain of dolls tied together by a silver string. Falling like dominoes after a single push, but only if each one was willing to push for himself. I felt like I was left out for some reason, until now."
Shining Shoes shook the snow from his coat. He stared up at the sky and the falling snowflakes.
"I'll start over. Maybe in Manehattan, maybe in some quaint village in the East." He put the lilies on the grave and stepped back. "But I won't ever forget you again, dad. I promise."
A mare in a nurse's uniform looked on from the cemetery entrance and smiled, holding her own lilies close to her chest.
Through the cracks in the skyline, far away in the sea, the sun smiled and set on a day that was, perhaps, a little brighter.
I look out over the waves, my mane rippling in the gentle breeze. The soft sea air whistles over the shore, the light stretching across the surf until it just barely touches the sand. The shadows, formerly dark and distinct, now bleed through into the brightness, creating shades of grey that cover the land and sea alike.
A single streak of burning gold lies across the waters, shimmering at the touch of the Sun. Its colors fight in a glorious tapestry of crimson and violet; a blazing display of life and strength.
Now the Sun is at the horizon, descending past the end of the world and into the cold nothingness that lies below. The light is now finally fading, disappearing into nothingness. Soon, it will sleep, unknowing and alone.
The world is now covered in black.
I shudder.
But at the same time, a sense of calmness overtakes me. I feel my thoughts come together in song, their melodies humming below the fading light of Day. A silver spark alights in my eye, and the twinkles within my mane begin to shift.
The first shaft of moonlight peeks from behind the opposite horizon, alighting on my shoulder like an old friend. Its gentle chill is warmer to me than the light of the Sun; it caresses my body and mind, filling me with renewed strength.
In the back of my mind, I feel a light touch; alien, yet familiar. A feeling of vastness overtakes me, and I find myself within a starry void, with infinity all around me.
I look upon the one who has brought me here: a silvery sphere of cratered rock, awaiting my command with a great tension.
My mouth forms words, and I whisper to it.
“Rise.”
The small moonbeam is joined by another—and then just as quickly, two more form alongside it. Beyond the mountains of the Far East, the Moon is rising.
It lifts its great head above the world and looks down at me. I have known it for all my time, and it has known me for the same.
Yet I abandoned my duty once.
Never again.
The songs come once more, and I raise my hoof to each part of the sky in turn, directing the lights of night into their places. The great constellation of the Ursa Major takes its place in the celestial hemispheres, and roars as Starswirl the Bearded appears beside it. Equius Nocturne stands guard in the North, and The First Light shines above them all, its twinkling eye the brightest white of all.
I spend a moment looking up at them, entranced by the life that I have created, awaiting my touch in the heavens above. It was they who freed me from my prison, not even a decade ago. They, who waited a thousand years for me, even as another moved them through the celestial spheres.
The Moon continues its ascent into the sky, and the waters before me are painted a luminous silver. The calls of the sea-birds subside, their small forms floating out on the waves as they gaze out into the horizon.
My gaze is drawn up to the Moon once again, and I notice something. My Moon is full. Its face, unblemished by the mark of Nightmare Moon, shines in its complete glory, neither waning nor yet waxing.
A whisper touches my mind.
Luna.
It is time.
Nearly unconsciously, my legs coil beneath my body, and powerful hooves born of the physique of an earth pony push off of the damp sand, sending me high into the sky. My wings flare out, and the warm thermals of the sea lift me up across the night, letting the beaches below fade into tiny patches of color. I feel my magic release me, the Moon sending me off with a final nod of approval. It will continue the journey from here.
I soar over forests and valleys, their majestic tops like tiny needlepoints from my place above. To my left, Equius Nocturnae offers a salute from the depths of the Frozen North, his starry helm reflecting from the ice-pocked ridges below his hooves. I pass the Mount of the Wyrm, known in these present times as Smokey Mountain. I wonder for a moment if there are any ponies ascending its banks—the children of Equestria are brave creatures, questing for goals that may be forever beyond their reach. Yet I see none of the amber-yellow lights that would indicate a camp, its inhabitants huddling together for warmth and protection. The snowbanks at its tip rustle in the chill winds, but I ignore the cold. Temperature is no problem for one such as I.
As I pass over Canterlot and Ponyville in turn, the yellow lights of civilization glimmer back at me like innumerable fireflies. Below, ponies are getting ready for bed; chatting with one another or simply enjoying each others’ company. Perhaps they are sharing a meal, or looking up at the stars.
I hope that none of them are alone.
I shiver, but not for the chill of the night air. I lift my head and give my wings a powerful pump, propelling myself forward through the skies. The scarred ridges of Foal Mountain pass beneath me within moments, and I soon hear the rush of water once again.
The mighty waters of Neighagra Falls are a monument to the power of nature, but they are not the reason I have come here this night. Instead, I gather my wings around my body, closing my eyes as I let myself fall into the purple mists that cloak the peak. The wind rushes past my ears, singing as it embraces me and carries me beyond the thunder of crashing water.
My hooves glide over the air; though I do not open my eyes, I can see through memory. I feel the break in the water, and slide through it; the bramble of cave-thorns that would catch many a pegasus in midflight, I weave through with ease. I have been down this path many times before, and though it stood without me for a thousand years, it still remembers my presence.
A breath of warm air caresses my cheek, and I hear the voices of birds. Letting my hooves slowly touch down onto the soft grass, I open my eyes.
“You came here quickly.”
I turn, and there she is. Her eyebrow is raised in a bemused expression, and a small smirk crosses her face. I feel a rush of warmth at the sight, a small sunbeam touching my heart through the clouds of moonlight.
Tia looks up and talks quietly, as though to herself. “The stars are indeed quite beautiful. I do wonder why The Priest is beside The Lover tonight.”
I feel my cheeks tinge with a light blush. “An artistic touch,” I mumble, letting my gaze pass over her shoulder. The trees behind her rustle in the cool night air, casting shadows that splay across the ground.
“As beautiful as the sacred grove itself.” Tia nods to the space around her, her mane flowing gently in the solar wind that surrounds her.
“Sometimes I wonder, sister,” I say, drawing out the words. “How sacred is this grove, really, if only us two know of it?”
Tia’s smirk fades into a soft smile. “I hardly think it matters if they know of it consciously or not.” She raises a hoof to her chest, letting it rest upon her heart. “They know it in here, and that is what truly matters.”
“And yet we return, as if to remind ourselves.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her stiffen.
I open my mouth, hesitantly at first, but continue nonetheless. “But for what purpose?”
“To pay our respects.”
I turn toward her and sigh. My breath comes out as a shimmering cloud, brushing over the top of the grass. “...Of course.”
Celestia kneels down, her lithe body resting on the wildflowers below. She has already moved on from my momentary objections. “Isn’t it beautiful? As pristine and sublime as the First Day.” She holds out a hoof, gesturing about the grove.
My eyes follow her hoof, and I grunt in agreement. The small waterfall, descending from the cliff above, pours with a sweet song into the Reflecting Pool below. Rocky walls come up all around us to form a bowl, their sides swarmed with vines and brush. To one side lies a small forest of trees, and to the other, a garden of wildflowers. As my eyes pass over a small sapling of the Sycamore tree, a lone cardinal chirps at me from its branches. In the back of my ears, I hear the buzzing of a hummingbird; I cannot see it, but its wings hum quietly beneath the other sounds of the grove. The scene is untouched, glistening in a fine mist of tranquility.
This is the Birthing Place. As it was, as it is, and as it always will be.
I do not want to be here.
“So how is Twilight?” I ask, turning to face my sister once more. “Are her studies progressing well?”
Celestia laughs quietly. “She is doing wonderfully, Luna. Soon, she may even be ready for your own tutelage. She may be the most gifted of all of my students thus far.”
“I recall you saying that of Starswirl the Bearded as well.”
She pauses. “Well, yes. Of course. He was truly astounding to watch; never before had I seen a unicorn with his capacity for true understanding. His spellwork was something to behold—you saw it when he first used the Lilium Ignis spell that he created.”
Something in my thoughts makes me pause; I stop, searching for the right answer. “Tia,” I saw slowly. “The Azaleum Ignis spell was a creation of another of your students—Umbrea the Elder, I believe.”
Celestia’s brow furrows, and she puts a hoof to her chin. “But what of Umbrea’s ritual, the Iris ad Nocturne?”
“The work of Sunshine the Radiant.” I raise a hoof to her shoulder; my voice and touch are gentle, but she flinches at my touch. “Your first student.”
When next she speaks, her voice is strained. “I...yes. Of course. How could I forget?”
“There have been many,” I remind her, stroking her mane. Yet she shuts her eyes and shakes her head.
“I have had many, but I was a constant in their lives—Princess Celestia, the Bringer of Light; teacher and friend.” She trembles lightly beneath my touch. “Yet how can I deserve that honor if they are not a constant in mine?”
“But they always had somepony to look up to,” I say. “And they still live on in your heart and mind, even if the details have become fogged over the centuries.”
Celestia sighs, exhaling slowly. “Yes. I suppose that is true.”
Satisfied, I let her sit for a moment more before withdrawing my hoof. We both look up to the skies, the stars glittering in our eyes.
An owl hoots in the darkness.
“I wonder what it would have been like,” Tia murmurs, her voice masked of any kind of emotion. “To have someopony like that ourselves.”
I feel something ugly rising within myself, and push it down quickly. “What do you mean?”
When Tia speaks again, her voice is pensive; drifting and thoughtful. “Somepony to look up to. Somepony to turn over our troubles to. Somepony who we could trust would make things right.”
I swallow. A touch of irritation leaks into my voice, and my words are cold and pointed. “But that would be foolish, sister. We are the Princesses of Equestria—there is no other. I would have thought Discord showed you that.” I scoff. “To hope for anything else is but a foolish dream.”
“Yet I must be strong for you, Luna.”
My eyes go wide. My breath stops.
“What?”
Celestia shakes her head. “Forgive me, sister. I did not mean to offend.”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my shaking hooves. A burst of red flares up in my vision—and then subsides just as quickly, leaving behind a deep sense of shame. “No. Of course not.”
Tia sighs, removing the crown from her head and placing it upon the ground. I offer a skeptical look as she lets it sit in the dirt, the jewel in the center glinting dimly as a cloud passes over the Moon above.
“I know it is foolish.” She is no Princess of the Day now; there is no regality or glory to her proclamation. “But sometimes I cannot help but wonder—what if there had been somepony there when you...fell?”
I wince. Old memories die slowly.
She does not appear to notice it, though, and continues. “My little ponies have parents and friends; their elders can step in amongst fighting and disharmony, helping their children to come together once again.”
“But there was nopony there for us.”
My voice cuts through the air like a knife.
Tia refuses to rise to my bait. “Yes,” she says, as serene as ever.
I know that voice is a lie. She is no more at peace than I am.
“There was nopony there for us,” I repeat. “And there never will be. Why waste time worrying over things that can never be true?”
“I wonder what she would have looked like.”
I freeze.
“A mane more beautiful than the Sun; more lustrous than the moon.” She pauses for a moment, and I know that her mind is rippling like the waves of the Reflecting Pool. “A voice full of hope, and love; never leaving, and never running away.”
I raise a hoof. “Sister—”
“And what would he have been like?” She is far away now, I know. She is no longer here in the grove with me. Instead, her mind is free; floating in the endless abyss of the Before Times. It would have been a simpler time, for her. “Strong, perhaps? Honest, but understanding?”
I can take it no more. “Tia. We have no parents.”
“What would they have said to us?” she whispers, her mouth barely moving.
“And we would not need any!” I shout over her. “Whatever made us has never been there when we needed it! We have made it this far on our own, so why must we contemplate anything more?”
“What would we have said to them?” Something glistens in the corner of her eye, and with some shock, I realize it is a tear. “What could we have said?”
“Nothing.” My tone is still cold, but the rage is beginning to subside. Instead, a dull sensation creeps over me, clinging to my throat.
She laughs and shakes her head. “I want someone to say the words. Just three little words.” Her voice catches. “Even someone to say them to, just in return.”
She looks up in surprise as my wing curls around hers, holding them tight. “But I do love you, Celestia.” I know the sensation now. It is guilt, lying in wait for me once again.
“...I know.” She is reserved, now; almost scared by what she has said. “But that first day—do you remember it?”
I do.
Birth is an event that few animals remember clearly. For many, it is a maelstrom of chaos and confusion; of wailing and tumultuous screams. For others, it is a sea of darkness, gradually reddening with the pigments and hues of life.
For me, it was as simple as opening my eyes.
Those first, faltering steps out of darkness, and into life—this life; this grove—were ones that I will never forget. I stepped out from between the trees, their dark leaves whispering in my areas as the shadow of the Moon danced among the roots. A wide pool, mirrorlike in appearance, glinted not a foot away from my hooves.
And across from it stood my reflection.
She was my size; perhaps a bit larger at the shoulder. Just as my light-blue mane fell flat over my neck, her pink one fluttered in a light breeze, her hooves depressing the garden of wildflowers beneath. And in that moment, I knew that she was my light, just as I was to be her darkness. She was my equal; my opposite, and I was hers.
Yet then we looked up at the sky, and there was nothing there. No light, no darkness, and no life. Only a deep grey, stretching for miles in all directions. Nothing to greet us. Nothing to welcome us.
Nothing to love us.
On that First Day, we raised the Sun and Moon for the first time. They had waited for us; awaiting the first touch of magic that would raise them up from the horizon and into the sky.
We watched them for what seemed like hours, the two celestial bodies chasing one another across the sky. White and black flashed, burning crimson and deep indigos blurring over the clouds above. There was no Night; no Day—only sheer joy at being alive.
“Luna.”
That was the first Name.
I looked across the pool, and saw her. My reflection.
“Celestia.”
We nodded in unison. It was time.
As the Sun chased the Moon across the sky, the Moon took refuge beneath the horizon, sinking below the endless waters at the edge of the world. The Sun, proud and strong, began to take its place at the opposite horizon, rising above the green world below. But the Moon would come back, at a time when the light would recede, and the shadows would stretch across the fields, the wind singing with the songs of the seabirds.
I return to the grove; the present is now, and the First Day is long since past.
And then I remember the waves.
“They’re like the ocean,” I blurt out.
Celestia snaps out of her similar reverie, and stares right at me. “What do you mean?”
I take a moment to think, but I am sure. “The ponies. The Sun and Moon rise above the ocean every day and night, but it is beneath those waters that they descend when their time comes.” I clear my throat. “They shine upon the waves when they are at their zenith—”
“But the waves catch them when they fall,” Celestia’s eyes widen with realization. “Luna, you—”
“Do you remember when Twilight Sparkle rescued you from my shadow?” My eyes are alight, burning with pride. “How she refused to give up on you, her mentor? Have you forgotten when, all hope seemingly lost, her and the Elements of Harmon remembered their true natures and defeated Discord himself?
“Don’t you see?” Something unfamiliar tugs on the side of my face, and it is a moment before I recognize it as a smile. “We may not have parents to say those words to, but we have something even greater. Twilight Sparkle, Starswirl the Bearded—all of Equestria, even.”
“They are my little ponies,” Celestia says slowly. Though I know she has said it many times before, it as if she is tasting the words for the first time.
I hold her close. “They are our little ponies, dear sister.”
She nods.
There comes a piercing cry.
“Philomena!” Tia calls out as the phoenix alights on her shoulder. The bird gives me a sharp look, preening the scarlet flames that comprise her plumage. “I thought I told you to stay in Canterlot,” she scolds, and Philomena looks as ashamed as a bird can be. I almost snicker.
Philomena prods Tia with her beak, and my sister scowls. “No, I didn’t bring any bird seed for you—I left a whole bag back in your room.”
Philomena wilts.
My snicker erupts into a full-blown laugh, and I fall over onto the grass, rolling with mirth.
Tia looks over at with a quirked eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”
I have no idea, yet my laughter redoubles.
A mischievous grin crosses her face, and she jumps me, Philomena alighting to the branches above as we tussle on the ground. Celestia tickles me—the devilish fiend—and I push her off and into the ground, rubbing her pastel mane into the dirt. Our laughter melds into a rush of joy and glee, Philomena’s strong harmony echoing in the grove.
Finally, we stop, tumbling to the ground and breathing heavily. After some time, I finally open my mouth to speak.
“I can’t remember the last time we did that,” Celestia says, interrupting my train of thought. I scowl at her with an expression that undoubtedly resembles a foalish pout, for all of the giggles that she erupts into. Above us, the stars twinkle like tiny diamonds; the constellations of the Smith and the Mother look down at us from their places in the night sky.
A few minutes pass in near-total silence. In all of the grove, there are only the sounds of our breathing, Philomena’s soft chirping, and the whisper of the wind through the brush.
“I wonder what words there are to say, now,” she wonders aloud finally. I hum to myself, looking up to the skies.
“I don’t think there are any.” I point, gesturing to the Moon. “I think those are all the words that we need.”
“Nothing to say...”
“But everything to live for.”
I turn my head to the side, and as we exchange knowing smiles, Philomena takes to the skies. Among the deep, dark tapestry of the night, a single flare of yellow and red dives and weaves, creating a pattern unique from all of the stars above.
And then the sky begins to brighten.
I glance over at Celestia, and find her kneeling on the ground, her horn alight with a golden shine. I look out to the western horizon, and find the Moon descending beneath the Equestrian plane. It leaves one gentle touch on my thoughts, and then disappears below the mountainous peaks.
I crane my neck to the east, and there I see the Sun rising—a perfect sphere of raging color, all contained beneath a skin of discipline and regality. Tia lifts her head high, her wings flaring out to the sides.
With the echo of a thousand whispers, the Sun is lifted up from the waters, carried on the backs of the waves below. I close my eyes as the Day returns once more.
Light washes over my eyelids, and I open them. The tail end of something bright is streaking past me. It draws my attention behind myself. I am on an incline, faced upward. The stone is cold beneath me. The pink streak of light swirls above a large pool of water in the center of a dolomite cave, then zips into the center of it and disappears.
Where am I?
For that matter, who am I? It's a strange thing, to open your eyes and not know anything. What was happening before I fell asleep? Assuming I was asleep, that is.
I remember bouncing. What an odd thing to be doing. I remember walking, or trying to walk, because I was too dizzy to bounce, and falling over, and things going black. I may have been calling somepony's name, or calling for help. Nopony heard me. Was there anypony around?
Yes. I remember pink haunches, lots of them, all bouncing. Now I remember being down in that cave, near the water, with the other pink ponies. I remember eating something, glowing, hard. It tasted like a frog.
And before that...
Emerging from the water, head-first, being pulled up by a hoof and staring into a pink face.
I'm Pinkie Pie. Oh my gosh. Except I'm not Pinkie Pie, I tell myself as I rise unsteadily to my hooves. Pinkie Pie made me, made all of us. She caused us to come into being with that pool, the one that has two more swirls of pink light over it.
I try to remember what it is we were doing just before I blacked out. We were going somewhere. Somewhere that one of the Pinkies said had fu--
Oh, my head!
I sink to my knees. The pain is unbearable. It's like somepony is banging a gong over and over and I'm the gong. After a moment, it calms down. I blink away tears and stand again, testing my legs to make sure they'll hold my weight. I'm fine. I think. I take a step forward as three more streaks of light pass me. What are these things? There's no way of knowing.
The little lights keep me company, though they head for the pool of water as I drag myself out of the cave. It's a twisting, turning tunnel that leads me out and gradually up. The walls are lined with veins of sapphire that I can just make out as the lights zip past. I think it's sapphire, anyway; the color might be affected by the light.
I realize that I don't know where I'm going. I'm leaving the cave only because it seems to be what I was doing previously. I don't know what I'll find outside the cave. Maybe I should stay here. But I'm intrigued by the source of these lights; they just keep coming.
The surface is thankfully not bright, as I hoist myself through the final upward turn of the exit tunnel and survey my surroundings. I am in a forest, which seems right: dark and forbidding, full of brambles and vines and tangled limbs. Yet the path before me is wide and open, save for the occasional trunk leaning too far into it. Another little pink sprite dances past me and into the mouth of the cave.
I am not Pinkie Pie. The thought comes, unbidden, as I emerge fully onto the soft soil of the forest floor. What a peculiarity, to define oneself by lack of being. I cannot say what I truly am, then, save a copy of the original. If I look at myself, I am what she is: pink. I have the same hooves, the same tail, the same mane. Though, on second look, I see that my tail drags behind me. And my mane, which I have not noticed before, hangs over the side of my face, straight and flat.
I notice something else. I have no cutie mark. Now that is really strange. So now I have neither identity nor purpose. Part of me wonders why I'm even putting one hoof in front of the other right now. Four more of the little pink lights fly past. Where are they coming from? That's reason enough, I suppose.
And besides, what's the use in being upset over this? I'm alive, I'm healthy. I'm alone, but nothing says that won't change eventually. I can figure out who I am later. The Pinkie Pie way is to face adversity head on and not worry about what may happen. So I'll do that. I straighten my shoulders, raise my head, and smi--
Agh! My head is on fire again. All thoughts of smiling dissolve and I'm brought to my knees once more. I hope this isn't going to be a regular thing.
Recovering this time is easier, if only slightly, and once more I'm on my way to find the source of the little lights. One floats past me, then no more. Have they stopped? Why must they be so mysterious? I watch and watch, yet see none come after. Without the tiny beacons to guide me, I find my route wavering. It's not like there's any path once I'm out of the trees anyway.
I wander through rolling hills with granite boulders, and then another stand of trees. These are lighter, kinder looking somehow. There seems no better place to go right now, and it's at least an improvement over where I've come from.
But not three steps into the small forest -- I can see light through the other side of the trees -- and I hear voices. Without stopping to ask why, I dive for cover and watch them through a low bush.
Three ponies. One is a large, red stallion. Goodness, he looks the brute. Then there's a unicorn mare. Something about her purple coloring strikes a memory within me, and her name appears in my mind: Twinkle Sprinkle. I think. The third one... is Pinkie Pie.
Or perhaps I should say a Pinkie Pie. I assume the others are still around. Although as I watch her gaily bound ahead, beside, and around her two companions, some innate sixth sense tells me that no, she is the real deal. This is the pony that I am but a vague copy of. A copy who cannot even use her copied sense of optimism in order to march forth with head held high.
I am but a ludicrous knock-off of this pink pony before me.
As she bounds past, part of me is tempted to call out. But what would I say? I may be her, or be like her, but I don't really know her. Nor do I feel I want to know her companions, whoever they are. Not yet. Not when I'm still so...
New.
I wait until the three have gone from my sight, until I can no longer hear Pinkie's cheerful voice, and then make a break in the direction they'd come from. It doesn't take me long to reach the edge of this stand of trees, this forested border between wilderness and...
There's a small cottage in front of me. This must be the edge of a town. I seem to recall something about this town. Ponyland, I think it was called. It's where the fu--
Nnnng.
It's where we were supposed to go, with Pinkie. I'm not certain I want to be here now, but where else have I to go? Especially when the only way I can find my way is by going where others have left. I'm a negation, a nothing, if the only way I have to define myself is by what I am not, where I am not going.
I hope no one's home.
I creep around the cottage, startling a group of birds of all different colors. A pair of grey squirrels watches me cautiously, not running, but not approaching either. I don't blame them. I keep a low profile as I glide past the outskirts of the cottage, onto a stone path. It's limestone, and in great disrepair. There are gouges where rain has eaten away at the once-square flagstones. Large cracks are filled with weeds and small flowers. I even spot a few fossils, tiny ribbed snail shells from who knows when, that seem to wink at me as I pass. It's hard to tear my eyes away.
The town is ahead. Do I really want to go there? Can I face a town full of ponies, some of whom might think they know me, when I don't even know myself?
A crow caws nearby. Startled, I make for the treeline again. The sun is beginning to set. Perhaps I should just stay out here for now. Maybe if I get some rest, those awful headaches will go away.
"Pinkie Pie, what are you doing out here?"
I awake with a jolt to a sea of pink and yellow. My instinct is to back away as quickly as I can, yet for some reason when I see the eyes of this pony hovering before me, that instinct fades and I don't act on it. I think I know this pony.
"Oh, uh, nothing, Flutter--" What was her name? "--Stutter."
"Oh my." She puts a hoof to her mouth. "Your mane is all flat. Are you feeling all right?"
Should I tell her? I try to laugh it off, but the moment I open my mouth, my laughter is cut short by a cry of pain. My head! What is wrong with me? I collapse to the ground, and she's suddenly all around me, tutting and fretting.
"You're not well at all! Come inside with me, I insist!"
"N-no," I mumble. "I'll be all right. Don't worry."
She turns, and begins to glare at me. It's a withering stare.
"No arguments, Pinkie Pie. You march straight inside and let me fix you up with some nice soup and a warm blanket and..." Her stare deteriorates. "Oh goodness, it would probably help if I knew what was wrong with you first."
I can't deny that that sounds good right now. Aside from being hard, the forest floor was cold, and I realize I'm stiff as well as in pain from the sudden migraine. Unsure if nodding will hurt, I simply shuffle forward, silently taking her up on her offer.
The inside of her tree cottage is cozy and homely. She quickly sets me up with the aforementioned blanket and soup, as well as a hot water bottle on my head. Then she flits about the room, which is kind of cluttered what with all the bird houses and overturned flowerpots strewn about, searching through books placed anywhere and everywhere.
I sip the soup as I watch. It's really just broth with some barley at the bottom, nothing fancy, but it warms me from the inside, as well as outside. The bowl feels very comfortable in my hooves.
"Will you tell me what's wrong with you now, Pinkie?" she asks. Somehow, I can't help but respond affirmatively.
"I've been getting migraines."
"For how long?"
"Umm... Since yesterday, I guess." Not that I've existed prior to that.
"Oh dear! Does anything in particular trigger them?"
I try and remember. One happened when I smiled, so I do that, briefly. Ow. And twice it happened when I thought about f--
Augh!
"Pinkie!"
I'm not even going to try laughing.
"Laughing, smiling, and thinking about f-- The f word."
"F word?"
Can I spell it? "F-U-N."
"Pinkie, that's awful!" She whooshes over to me, all bitten hooves and nervous tail. "You love smiling and laughing, and having fun! Why would those things cause you pain?"
I notice that when she says it, it doesn't hurt. Is it only when I think of the word? I'm not going to try and figure it out. "I have no idea."
"Oh my, oh dear! Oh, this is serious!" She flutters into my face, and part of me wants to let her know that her incessant fretting isn't helping. "I'll have to get Twilight to help, oh I'm sure of it!" She hovers over to the door, pauses, and then zooms back to me.
"Now Pinkie, you stay right here and just rest, okay? Don't worry, I'll get Twilight, she'll figure out what to do, and then we'll have you feeling all better in no time! Oh, um, and try not to smile. Or laugh. Or think about... Well, you know."
She flaps slowly backwards, until she bumps into the front door. She squeaks, grins, and then leaves.
There is no way I'm waiting here for this crazy mare to return.
I take a long gulp of soup, then doff the water bottle and blanket and rise from the sofa. It's time to make a break for it.
But I didn't count on the bunny. He's suddenly taking up my entire field of vision, and I stumble backwards, flumping back onto the couch. His tiny glare radiates palpable hatred. My first reaction is fear, just like when his owner was staring at me.
I'm not about to cower before a rabbit.
"Listen, fluffy," I tell him, "I don't want to be here any more than I bet you want me here. So why don't you just wiggle your little cotton tail on off somewhere else, and I'll be on my merry way and out of your whiskers, huh?"
He shakes his head and crosses his tiny arms over his chest. I change tactics.
"Please?" It doesn't sound very genuine, even to my ears. He only huffs.
"How about if I give you a carrot or something? I've got this nice soup!" I almost smile, but restrain myself. He's not giving in, and I'm getting mad.
"Listen, kid, I don't want to hurt you, but don't think I'm afraid to use force!"
That gives him pause. I am, after all, ten times his size. I use the pause to make a dash for the door. I've almost reached it when he appears in front of me again, limbs splayed out for an attack.
So I strike first. A wave of my hoof, and he's flattened against the far wall and my path is clear. I feel a pang of guilt; I hope he's not hurt. But he pushed my hoof. I didn't have a choice.
And now I'm galloping at full speed into town. With no idea of what I'm going to do when I get there. There was that idea I had to discover where the pink lights had come from, but what is there to suggest they came from here? What says they didn't? Once again, I'm stuck in life without a plan or a purpose. Except now I've also hurt somepony. Bunny.
Maybe I'm not a good pony.
"Hey, what's the rush?"
The voice comes from above. I skid to a halt and look up to see, um, Raindrop Dazzle floating above me.
"There a party or something that's on fire, Pinkie?"
"I'm not Pinkie," I say without thinking.
She gives me the darnedest look. "Uh... Wha? C'mon, Pinkie, I think we had enough of you not being you yesterday, it's not funny."
"I know."
I try to leave the area, but she doesn't get the hint. Now there's rainbows right in my face.
"So what's up, Pinks? Your mane's all flat like that time when..." She clears her throat. "If you're not feeling like yourself, then I can totally cheer you up, how about that?"
"Not now, please." I edge back, but she stays on top of me.
"How about I show you this awesome trick I just learned? Or we could go back to Sugarcube Corner and bake stuff!" She slams one hoof into the other. "I got it! I'll get the girls together, and we'll throw you a party, just like last time! We'll call it a, uh... A 'Congratulations on Being the Real Pinkie Pie' party!"
"No!" I lash out and push her back, scrabbling for traction as I make a getaway. Surprisingly, she doesn't catch up to me. I know she can. I chance a look back and see her standing there, rubbing her chest, watching me with a puzzled and hurt look. A few more steps, another look back, and she's gone.
I slow down, glancing up but seeing no pursuing pegasus. I knew I shouldn't have come here. Not that I have anywhere to go, but it's caused me nothing but problems so far. Maybe I should reevaluate my desire not to be alone; it would certainly be quieter.
But by not paying attention to where I'm going, I've wandered into the downtown. It's not much of a downtown, being in a small rural village and all. Something about one of the buildings is familiar, though. Memories of it flood my mind. They're Pinkie's memories, of frosting, sugar and cake.
It's not like I have anywhere to be. My hooves won't stop moving to the door, and then I'm in, with a little chime.
And then I hear her.
"Welcome to Sugarcube Corner, where everything's sweet, complete and... Whoa!"
She sees me and leaps out of her apron. I take a step back, but it doesn't help; she's immediately in my personal space.
"I guess sleeping all night on the floor down here really wasn't a great idea after all! I mean, I'm seeing double! Or maybe I'm hallucinating! Maybe I had too much coffee this morning trying to wake up, and it made me get all jittery and loopy and now the walls are melting and things are getting double-double and, hey, I think that reminds me of something, didn't something just happen recently with doubling doubles?"
It doesn't surprise me that she's unhinged. I mean, she isn't giggling madly or anything, but it's clear the implications of this situation are far beyond her ability to comprehend at the moment. It would probably be easy for me to run off again and leave her here, bewildered and questioning her own sanity.
But as I turn around and break for the door, it opens, almost smacking me in the nose.
"Pinkie, we--"
"Oh my goodness!"
It's Flutterbutter and Tricky Spackle.
"All right," says the unicorn, marching forward with her horn lowered so that I'm forced to back up ahead of her, "somepony had better tell me right now what's going on!"
"Twilight, looky, looky! I heard the doorbell dingle and I came out to see if we had a customer, but it wasn't a customer I don't think, although she hasn't ordered yet so I don't really know, but the point is, it's a brand new baby twin sister for me!"
I am so floored by Pinkie's pronouncement that I plop right down onto my haunches, staring at Twibright and her still vicious horn.
"Pinkie, what? What are you talking about?" She jabs a hoof at me. "This is obviously just another one of your clones, that we must have missed yesterday."
"Ohhhhh!" Pinkie bounds over and looks closely at me. "You could be right, Twilight, you know that? I mean, you're often right about things when things are getting weird, except for when you're wrong, and then usually I'm right, and I'd really like to be right about having tons of new sister and not another dumb, stinky clone!"
"Well?" The unicorn's eyes bore into me. "What are you, huh? Why don't you tell me who the real Pinkie is?"
I hesitate, then I sigh. "She is," I say, and punctuate it by grabbing Pinkie around the neck and pulling her into view.
I can tell by how the unicorn is looking at me that she doesn't believe me.
"You mean you're not going to try and convince me that you're Pinkie?"
I shake my head. "I've spent all day wondering just who I am. But I'm not Pinkie Pie. Or her sister. I'm just a clone, like you said."
The horn lifts. "Well, I still remember the spell to send you back to the Mirror Pool. It won't be a minute--"
"Twilight, no, you can't!"
Pinkie springs out of my grasp and into Twinkie's personal space.
"Pinkie, we have to! She'll just start shouting 'fun' over and over again, clone herself a bunch more times and then start wrecking Ponyville!"
"Um, Twilight..."
I can barely hear the pegasus in the back.
"No she won't! Just look at her, Twilight!"
Pinkie grabs my head, pulling it forward. That kind of hurts, but I don't have a chance to complain.
"She hasn't said 'fun' once! We had a conversation! And her mane's all flatty-watty, none of my clones looked like that!"
"She's right, Twilight," Flutternutter adds. "She actually told me that if she smiles, or laughs, or thinks about fun, she gets terrible migraines. That's why I came to get you."
Twilight -- I think I have her name down, now -- steps closer to me, peering at me like I'm some kind of prize cheese.
"You can't smile?"
I shake my head.
"You don't want to make life difficult for my friends and the rest of Ponyville?"
"Not if you don't want to make life difficult for me." I'm not liking this unicorn.
She frowns and looks at Pinkie, then Flutterstuff. "Pinkie, go find Rainbow Dash and Applejack. Fluttershy, you get Rarity. Meet us at the library. We're going to get to the bottom of this."
Twilight all but pushes me back to her library, and I sit in silence while she gathers books and reads them two at a time, occasionally giving me suspicious glances. Her little dragon helper glances at me now and then as well, but he seems more curious. I shut my eyes so I don't have to deal with either of them.
Is this what I'm going to have to deal with? Being a curiosity when I'm not under scrutiny simply for existing? Or am I even going to have to put up with it, since this unicorn says she can send me back? Do I want that?
"Hey," I say, opening my eyes. Twilight's look says I'm interrupting her in the midst of something important. I don't care.
"You said you sent the other clones back to the pool. What exactly does that mean?"
She frowns, and considers. "Well... It was a spell, to undo the creations of the Mirror Pool. We held a contest that only the real Pinkie could win, and any time a clone revealed herself, I hit her with the spell." Her expression goes limp for a moment, and she swallows. "They sort of... expanded, and then popped. They turned into light, and I guess they--"
"Went back into the pool." Those lights! I've found the source! If I'd only known... But there was no way I could have.
So she wants to turn me into light. I'll fly through the air and into the pool and... stop existing? I'm not sure I remember anything from before climbing out of it. I mean, I do, but I'm pretty certain those memories are all Pinkie's. I can remember having sisters, for instance; meeting my friends for the first time, even if I can't remember their names well; working on a rock farm, with lovely shales and gneisses, feldspars and gypsum spars that would push up out of the ground like inverted carrots, and wonderful geodes, with jeweled interiors of--
"All right Pinkie, we're here. Now what's the big... Oh, ponyfeathers."
I look to the door. Appledapple and the blue one just came in with Pinkie. Behind them are Buttershy and Clarity. I guess this is it for me, then. Maybe if I become light and rejoin the pool, I won't have to worry about trying to define myself, or never being happy ever.
"Oh dear! Fluttershy had told me Pinkie had a problem, but I didn't expect it would be this again! Twilight, whatever has happened?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out, Rarity." Twilight holds up a pair of books. "This is the tome that taught me the spell to send the clones back to the pool. And this one is about magical creations, living ones specifically. I'm trying to figure out how or why a pony created through magic, who should theoretically be exactly the same as all the others, isn't."
"I don't know why everypony's getting so huffy and grumpy about this!" Pinkie crosses her hooves over her chest and plops down next to me. "I'm all excited to get a new sister, and you just want to send her back!"
Rainbow thingy rolls her eyes. "Pinkie, it's like you completely forgot what happened! We don't want to have to go through that a second time."
"Rainbow's right," says Applebapple. "I've got half a mind to rope this dogie and drag 'er back to the pool cave myself!"
"Just give me a little time to figure this out, girls." Twilight goes back to her books. "I wanted you all here so you wouldn't be fooled by this last clone. Once I'm sure there won't be any more clones showing up, we'll send this one back and be done with it, once and for all. It's possible we just missed one, after all."
"Why don't we ask her?" The suggestion comes from Charity, and immediately I feel a certain amount of warmth toward her. She's the first pony who's shown me actual consideration, not counting Cluttershy's soup. She thought I was Pinkie, after all.
"That's a good idea," Flustershy says, nodding.
"I... hadn't thought about that," Twilight says, scratching her head. "Would you be willing to tell us what happened to you?"
"Do I have a choice? It's obvious you're just thinking of me as a problem and not a pony." I can't keep the bitterness out of my voice. I do not like this Twilight Sparkle.
"Well, you sort of are. A problem, that is. We can't have even one extra Pinkie running amok in town, so if there are any more of you left over, I need to know about it."
I sigh. There's not much to tell, but I tell them. Pinkie seems to hang on my every word, asking spirited questions for clarification, and often going off on tangents, adding her own fantasies into the mix. Am I really supposed to be a copy of this pony? I leave out the part about kicking the rabbit; I add in the part about not really liking Twilight.
"After all, you're the one who killed the other clones, and you want to do the same to me, and so here I am."
Twilight frowns and stares at the floor. "I didn't kill them. I unmade them. They weren't supposed to exist in the first place, and neither are you."
"You don't know that. They were alive, just as I'm alive right now."
She snorts and glares at me. "Anyway, it sounds like we just missed you. All I have to do is use the spell once more and you'll be out of our manes forever."
"But Twilight, it doesn't seem right." The yellow pegasus seems to have startled herself by speaking up. "Um, I mean, she's not very much like the other clones."
"Yeah!" cries Pinkie. "She hasn't run amok once since she got to Ponyville!"
"Only on account of y'all keepin' an eye on her, I reckon." The cowpony rolls her neck and stares at me. She's scary; I shrink back from her.
"I cannot help but side with Fluttershy," says Gl-- No, no, her name's, uh... Rarity, yes. I should at least try to learn the names of the ponies who don't want to kill me. "It seems rather beastly to tell a pony to her face that you don't wish for her company and are planning to 'unmake' her, as you put it."
"But she's not a pony, Rarity, she's just a..." Twilight waves her hoof as if searching for a word. "Well, I don't know what she is, exactly, but she's just a copy, and she's got no business being here."
"And I can't help but side with AJ and Twilight!" Rainbow zips over and gets in my face. "Like I said, I don't wanna go through all that headache again!"
The six ponies start bickering. Over me. These are mares who I know, from Pinkie's memories, are the best of friends, but already my presence is causing a rift between them. I don't want this.
"Stop."
I try to shout over them, but their words drown me out. I look to the little dragon for help, but he just shrugs and shakes his head sadly.
"Stop!"
I stand, draw myself up straight, and rear back. Both of my hooves stomp against the floor hard enough to rattle a nearby coffee table.
"Stop it!"
Everypony immediately gets quiet and stares at me. Part of me wants to flinch back, but I stand firm.
"Don't I get a say in any of this?"
"Uhh..."
I'm not sure who said that. "Look, I told you what happened to me. I'm not interested in running amok or bouncing around like an idiot. I definitely don't want to make life difficult for you all, but it looks like I already am." Something's making my vision blurry. "Look, if it would be easier on you all, I'll go back to the pool. I didn't ask to be created, and if living means having to put up with this much pain, if it means causing good friends to start arguing with each other, then I don't want any part of it!"
The gaze of the ponies who were against me drop to the floor, and those who were arguing in my favor can't look at me. Pinkie clings to my front left.
"Oh please, don't go! I know you're a good clone! If you go, then I'll never know what life would have been like if I'd stopped after the first time! You don't even have a name that I can remember you by!"
Rainbow grimaces. "You've been alive for like a day, and we're already making you feel like you don't want to be? That's awful!"
"Twilight..." Rarity gives her friend a meaningful glare. "I think that perhaps we should consider treating this clone as a real pony, hmm? At least until we figure out just how different she is from the others?"
Applejack takes her hat off and worries the brim with her hooves. "Rarity has a point, Twi. I mean, it's kinda not real friendly-like to be sittin' here and discussin' her fate right to her face and all."
"I think it's settled, Twilight," says Fluttershy quietly.
Pinkie suddenly springs up, and almost chucks me in the chin with her head. "Ooh, you totally need a name since you're staying! How about, uh... Flatty Pie? Because your mane's flat, right? Ooh, or Pinkie Junior? Pinkie Two? What about Saddy Pie, since you've been all mopey-dopey since I met you? I know, I should throw you a 'Happy Being Created Out of a Magical Pool of Water' party, which is kind of like a birthday party, except you're already full-grown! That's a great idea!"
She hops off out the door, shouting, "I'll get the decorations ready! Don't be late, Saddy Pie!"
That is the worst name ever.
Twilight balks. "But... What is she going to do? Where will she stay?"
"She can stay with me," Fluttershy and Rarity say at the same time, without hesitation. They both smile at one another, and then Fluttershy prompts her friend to proceed.
"My sister's room is empty currently," Rarity continues, "and I have a spare guest room besides. You'll be more than welcome... Saddy." Her nose wrinkles at saying the name, and I don't blame her.
"I'll think up a better name," I say. "And thank you." First I'm being fought for, and now I'm fought over? Maybe I was wrong about these ponies.
Well, except for one. Twilight stalks over, gives me a thorough dressing-down with her eyes, and then turns to Rarity. "All right. Admittedly, her problems with smiling and the rest are intriguing, and you're right that she hasn't run amok. Yet. I've also noticed," she continues, looking me over again, "that she's missing her cutie mark, which presents interesting possibilities on its own. So she may be worth studying. But I'm warning you, Rarity, for your own sake as well as everypony else's, do not let her out of your sight."
Rarity snorts. "Very well, Twilight, if you insist."
"Twilight," I say softly, "if it makes you feel any better, I promise you that I won't run amok while I'm here. And I double-promise that I don't care about having fu--"
Dammit, I said it again! The pain drives me to my knees, and suddenly there are three ponies helping me back, Twilight among them. The look on her face suggests that she hadn't believed there was anything wrong with me until this point.
"I... I'll look into this. I still feel like we should send you back, but there's obviously something different about you. You present an intriguing scientific challenge, and the least I can do is solve it. What happens after that, we'll discuss when the time comes."
I nod to her, wincing. "That's awfully big of you."
"Come along, dear," Rarity says, taking my hoof. "Sunshine will do you wonders, I'm sure. Fluttershy, would you be a dear and bring some medical supplies to the Boutique? She may need some headache remedies."
"Oh, that's a good idea, Rarity." Fluttershy gets in my face, but I'm less opposed to it at the moment. I just want out of here. "Now, Saddy Pie, please promise me you'll try not to do anything that will make your problems worse, okay?"
"I don't even have to promise," I grunt. "That's just common sense." I sigh. Looks like I'm destined for a miserable life, long or short.
As Rarity leads me out of the library, I take a look at the other two, who've been rather quiet this whole time. Rainbow is putting on a show of glaring at me, but she's also hanging back. Applejack looks away as our eyes meet. I don't bother looking back at Twilight.
"I may not be a real pony," I mutter to myself, "but neither are you, Twilight Sparkle."
"You do realize," Rarity says to me, as we make our way up the plushly carpeted staircase in her home-slash-business, "that though I do think you deserve to be treated with respect so long as you treat us in the same regard, I am taking a bit of a risk, bringing you into my home like this. I still say Twilight is being overly hard on you, but the reality is, if you are indeed different from the other clones, then you may as well be a complete stranger."
She turns to me, pausing at the top of the stairs, and gives me a very serious look. I nod.
"We aren't exactly strangers though, you know." She gives me a puzzled look and I step forward. "I remember all the time you and Pinkie have spent together. Well, kind of. Not all of it, I suppose. And it's more like remembering a dream, because none of it really happened to me."
She nods and places a hoof gently on my shoulder. It takes all my strength not to smile.
"Thank you," I say. "For trusting me. I hope I don't make you regret it." I mumble the last part, suddenly unable to meet her gaze.
She smiles. "Think nothing of it, dear. Giving is in my nature. Now, here we are! I'll just set you up in the guest room, in case. If you'd like to freshen up, the bathroom is here. I do imagine Pinkie will be very insistent that you attend that party she's cooked up for you. No doubt you should; I'm certain it would do wonders to relax you after the day you've had!"
Her generosity has me staggered. "I think I'll take a bath," I squeak, and duck through the door as she calls out the locations of various towels, shampoos, and sundries. I rest against the back of the door and feel tears on my cheeks. If I'm sad when I'm happy, it only makes sense that when I'm happy, I'm sad.
Parties are not my thing. I know it's strange, considering who I am, or who I'm supposed to be. I can remember Pinkie throwing parties, expending tons of energy throughout an afternoon to set them up, and even more in the evening while attending them, only to collapse in a heap once everypony had left, and breathe a single, long breath of satisfied relief. Those times are the happiest she's ever been, knowing that she could make so many others happy. Maybe I should try and be happy for her, not that I can show it.
I suppose the saving grace is that she's only invited her close friends and me. I don't think I could handle being the center of attention for a whole town, because I know Pinkie has the pull to pack Sugarcube Corner with ponies for these shindigs. That said, I spend most of the time talking with Rarity or Fluttershy, as Rainbow Dash is still glaring at me, Appleflank... I mean Applejack is avoiding me, and Pinkie's too busy bouncing between her friends, who seem fairly cool towards each other, to bother with me for more than a minute at a time.
Then there is Twilight Sparkle. She came to the party with a stack of books in her saddlebags and has been furtively reading them while sipping punch in a corner. Every now and then, she glances up at me, then back to her book once she sees that I've seen her. I've been keeping an eye on her as well.
So it's with a great deal of surprise that I find her walking towards me, looking purposeful. I glance around, trying to find an escape, but she's on me before I can move.
"I have a few theories," she begins, not even bothering to address me, "that I'll need to test out on you." With a glance at her friends, she adds, "With your permission, of course."
"What kinds of theories?"
"Specifically," she says, setting down her drink, "I want to get to the bottom of your missing cutie mark, no pun intended. Of all the clones, you're the only one who doesn't have one."
Suddenly, Pinkie pops up between us. "Oooh! Twilight, Twilight, are you gonna cure Saddy Pie's headaches so she doesn't have to be sad anymore?"
Twilight averts her eyes from Pinkie as I recoil. "Yes, Pinkie, I'll try looking into that as well. Actually, it may be the easier puzzle to solve." She clears her throat and looks at me. "Do you remember what kind of mushroom it was that you ate?"
"Uhhh..." I don't really, not specifically anyway. Mushrooms are definitely not my specialty. "It was glowing?"
"Hmm." Twilight frowns and begins pacing in a small circle. "Maybe if I went to that cave, I could figure it out. Would you be willing to accompany me and show me precisely what it was you ate? The signs suggest that it's what caused you to black out in the first place; maybe there was some lasting poison that's still in your system and causing the headaches. Though I'm not sure why they would be triggered with such specific thoughts or actions."
"I'll go," I say, without stopping to consider the implications.
"But..." Pinkie looks between Twilight and myself, her lower lip jutting out. "Twilight, if you and Saddy Pie go to the cave with the Mirror Pool, you're just gonna send her back, I know it!"
Dramatic tears come out of her eyes, and the party has ground to a halt as everypony else looks at Twilight. She swallows.
"Pinkie, I absolutely promise that I will return to Ponyville with this clone intact." She actually goes through the motions of the Pinkie Promise, and Pinkie seems to calm down. "I can't test my theories if she goes away after all, can I?"
"So when do we go?" I ask.
"Tomorrow. You should probably make sure you get some rest tonight."
Pinkie zips over to the record player and puts the record back on.
"In that case, let's party down so you'll have a reason to sleep! Yeehah!"
I do try to party down, even going so far as dancing a little with Pinkie, but the night comes to an early close as the others give up and get out. I leave with Rarity, since we're going to the same place and all, and Pinkie loads us up with leftovers.
In the upper floor of Carousel Boutique, after a good-night from Rarity, lying on stylish sheets that are far softer than the forest floor I slept on last night -- was it only a night ago? -- I can't help but think that my life has turned around rather suddenly. I'm warm, I'm safe. I might even have friends. But I still don't have a purpose. And something tells me that all these wonderful things I've suddenly fallen into are not going to last for much longer.
I grasp the pillow with all four hooves, curl up, and try to sleep.
"Do you remember the way back to the cave?"
I nod. "Isn't anyone else coming?"
Twilight sighs, shouldering her saddlebag. "I couldn't convince Rainbow Dash to come. AJ and Rarity are too busy. I specifically avoided Pinkie all morning just because she was watching me last night, and Fluttershy said something about Angel being sick, so she couldn't come either. It's just you and me."
"I don't like the sound of that."
"You don't have to. Come on."
She takes off, and I have to keep pace with her, since I'm in the lead. I know she's been there, since I saw her go the other day, but I guess it wasn't important enough for her to remember the details. For me, it's like knowing where home is, after all.
We travel in silence, her just in my peripheral line of sight, back through the light forest and the rolling plains. I'm the first to break the silence. It's just getting unbearable.
"So, uh, who's Angel?"
"Angel? He's a rabbit. One of Fluttershy's pets, though I think she treats him more like a friend, really."
"A... A rabbit?" The sensation of something soft, warm and fuzzy impacting my rear hoof resurfaces in my memory.
"Yes, a little white one." She chuckles. "He's kind of a stubborn pain in the flank sometimes, but he's really very protective of Fluttershy. They work well together."
"And you say he's sick..."
"I think Fluttershy actually said 'hurt'. I may have misremembered." She turns an eye toward me. "Why do you ask?"
"No reason," I quickly lie. "I hope he's all right."
"He's pretty tough. I wouldn't worry about it."
That conversation brings us to the edge of the darker forest. It must be part of the Everfree, I now realize. That's something I hadn't thought of before.
"The path is pretty straightforward," I explain, "or at least I remember it being so."
Twilight's horn lights up, but only barely penetrates the gloom for the amount of mist that soaks the dark, twisted branches.
"We sealed the entrance with a large boulder, after you left I suppose. Once we find that, I'll be able to lift it out. Lead on."
The path is not as straightforward as I thought. It's as though it's shielded from outside view, but once one is on it, getting out is easy. I suppose that's better than the opposite. Still, it takes us quite a while to find the boulder, and what a marvelous boulder it is.
"Granite," I say, as Twilight works up her magic and starts shifting it out of the ground.
She pauses and looks at me. "What?"
"The boulder," I say, and shrug. "It's a porphyritic granite. You can tell because the quartz phenocrysts are larger than the stone groundmass."
Her jaw drops open and I find myself having to look away. She comes closer to me, inspecting me like she expects to find something wrong with me.
"What? Get out of my face!"
Frowning, she goes back to dislodging the granite boulder, and after a solid minute or so of effort, does so.
"After you," she says. I sigh and hop into the hole.
The entrance tunnel is strangely welcoming, though cold. Without those lights, it seems empty, despite Twilight's presence. Maybe it's because, even though I didn't know it at the time, they were my sisters. I've tried not to think about it that way, but it's true. They were living, breathing ponies, returned to magic and light and the waters they came from by an unthinking hoof. I glance behind myself to make sure she's still there and not charging up some kind of spell to do away with me. Pinkie may have believed her promise, but she wasn't the one whose existence was currently in jeopardy.
I have to do something.
"This looks like the place!" Twilight says cheerfully as we step into the cavern proper. I stand at the lip, and she stops next to me, peering around.
"Wow!" It comes out as barely more than a whisper. "It's beautiful!"
I can't help feeling some small amount of pride at that, but I keep the smile at bay. "It's the tourmaline," I explain. "I can see it from here; there's a vein extending up to the surface, that must pipe in sunlight. It's what gives the cave its blue-green color, too."
She smiles at me. "You really know an awful lot about rocks, don't you?"
I shrug. "Doesn't everypony?"
She has no response, but instead trots into the cave. "Do you see any mushrooms like the one you ate?"
I have to follow her down the incline, the same one I woke up on two days ago, to go looking for mushrooms. I'm distracted by the striations in the stalagmites as she hunts along the ground, finally poking me in the side and holding a fungus aloft in my face.
"Is this it?"
"Yes." I take a closer look. "I'm pretty sure. Are there more than one species growing here?"
She shakes her head. "I don't think so. These all look pretty much the same, which means I can take this home and analyze it." She puts the mushroom in her saddlebags, then turns toward the water, gazing into it.
"I've read so much about the Mirror Pool lately..." She shakes her head. "None of the books are really able to explain it, though. What it is; where it came from; how it works." She turns to me. "How the things duplicated by it can even exist."
I turn away from her. In the shadows behind a rise, I can see a fallen dolomite stalactite, no doubt loosed by one of my former sisters' antics, lying a short distance away.
"I can't tell you that," I say.
She sighs. I glance back and see her eyes searching the ground. I steel myself.
"You're thinking about going back on your promise."
"I am." She's turned back to the pool. I pick up the stalactite, shaped just right for being carried in the mouth.
"Part of me just wants to send you back and get all of this over with, for good. I know I said I wouldn't be able to test any of my theories, but... Part of me doesn't really care. And I know you haven't exactly had the best time since you woke up. I want to say, it would be far easier on you if you just went back in."
As I close the distance between us, I can see her reflection in the pool. Her eyes are closed, her teeth clenched. Her voice mirrors the regret in her expression.
"I didn't like doing what I did to those clones. I put it out of my mind by telling myself it was the only way, that there was no other way to stop the damage being done to Ponyville. But that very first clone..." She shudders. "Watching her expand and pop like that was horrifying. And I had to do another twenty times."
"Let me save you from a twenty-first horror, then."
"What?"
I don't let her turn all the way toward me before I swing. The stalactite slams against her temple, knocking her into the pool. I stay myself from swinging again and drop the stone; it was getting heavy anyway. I drag her out of the pool, both so she doesn't drown and also so she isn't duplicated. Not that I really know how that works.
Now what? It occurs to me that I didn't think this through. Twilight is out cold, at least. I'm pretty sure I can see her chest rise and fall. There's a trickle of blood on the side of her head, and a little bit in the pool. I cringe.
Is this all that I am? Some kind of... monster who hurts others when they get in her way? Maybe I should have taken Twilight up on her offer. Maybe I don't deserve to live.
I close my eyes and sit down on the cold stone floor. Images of the other ponies I met not so long ago flash through my head: the suspicious Rainbow Dash; the diffident Applejack; Fluttershy, with her kind warmth and care; the generous Rarity; and Pinkie Pie.
Dear Pinkie, my twin in more ways than one. Pinkie, who welcomed me at first sight, without prejudice, into her heart, her friendship, her family. Pinkie, who tried to cheer me up even though I cannot be cheered, simply because she didn't need a reason to care about me.
Pinkie, of whom I am but a faint, fading shadow.
"What am I doing?"
"What have you done?"
The shrill cry cuts through my mumblings, echoing across the cave. I spin around to see Pinkie, her eyes overflowing with tears, one hoof in the air, frozen on the incline.
"T-tell me that a stone just fell and hit Twilight on the head. That's what happened, right?" She laughs shakily. "Tell me that's what happened, Saddy Pie. Tell me Twilight's all right. I'll believe you, I promise."
I can't think, I can't move, I can't speak. Then all at once, I whirl about and charge for the pool. It only takes me a few short gallops to make it there, and I leap for the center.
"I solemnly swear not to be scared!"
A splash, and then the round undulations of water over my ears. I feel a cold warmth flowing through me. There, at the surface, I can see Pinkie reaching out, shouting something, but I cannot hear her. As I sink further, the waters close in and I cannot see any more.
I drift down, down, the pressure of the water squeezing my chest, but I feel neither pain nor panic. For the first time since I woke up on the cold dolomite of my birthplace, I close my eyes and feel at peace.
Don't give up...
What is this?
Open your eyes...
Who are you?
You must live...
I can't speak, I can't hear, what is going on?
I open my eyes, and in the empty gloom of water that seems to have no sides or bottom, I see shapes forming at the edges of my vision. As they draw near, both they and the voices become more distinct.
Live for us...
We only wish to live...
You are the One Who Lived...
The forms solidify as pink ponies with poofy mane. I can't see any cutie marks, nor can I see smiles, but these are all definitely Pinkie.
We are the children of the pool.
I've come home to you, my sisters.
No. You must return to the surface.
We tried to live but were cast out.
You must live.
But I have nothing to live for. They cast me out, too.
You must live for us.
But why? Why me? I can't smile, I can't laugh. What's the point of being Pinkie Pie if I can't bring joy to myself, let alone other ponies?
You are not Pinkie Pie.
The Pinkie nearest me suddenly shudders. The pink coloring lifts, becomes light, and swirls around me, leaving behind a blank gray form, vaguely pony-shaped, but without any distinguishing features.
None of us are.
Another Pinkie turns gray.
You must be your own pony.
And another.
You must live for us, so that we may live in you.
And another.
The swirling lights begin to pass into and through me. I can feel them, as if they are physical. They tickle. As Pinkies slowly vanish around me, their lights penetrate my being, suffusing me with warmth. I can taste their memories, of the time they spent in the light, of the fun they had.
Fun!
I anticipate the pain, but it does not come. Instead I am aware of a buzzing sensation in my head. The warmth has reached my brain, and it is healing me of my ailments.
Despite being underwater, I feel my cheek become wet.
Live for us, and be you.
The last lights wink out inside me. The gray forms fade. I am filled with the urge to live, to kick and claw and fight my way past any obstacle that dares separate me from that which I desire.
I kick upward, pushing myself toward the surface, my lungs burning. Though I sank deeply, it isn't long before I can see the surface, the shimmering silver inversion of the cave floating above me. A soft pink circle guides me to the side of the pool, and a hoof reaches out, grasping my own and then pulling me into the cool air.
I truly breathe for the first time and collapse on the stone floor, panting and gasping.
"You're okay!" I feel warm hooves around me, and do not resist their embrace as they pull me from the water.
"Pinkie?"
"Oh Saddy Pie, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you into the water like that!" Pinkie's smiling, but her eyes are full of tears. "I just saw Twilight on the ground and I kind of panicked and--"
"I'm sorry, Pinkie."
"No."
Twilight's voice cracks and she moans in pain. "I'm sorry."
I can't believe what I'm hearing. "You? But I attacked you!"
Twilight nods, then cringes as it causes her pain. "I understand why, though. I made you feel like your life was in danger and you had no other choice. I would never break a Pinkie Promise. I'm sorry I made you feel threatened, and I hope you can forgive me for the way I treated you."
Pinkie helps Twilight to her feet, and I slouch over to them, sodden and beginning to feel a chill. I wrap my arms around Twilight and hug her tightly.
"I can forgive you if you can forgive me for getting you completely wrong."
Twilight laughs, then hisses. "I don't blame you. I haven't exactly treated you well, Saddy."
I shake my head. "That's not my name."
Pinkie makes a showy sniff. "You don't like the name I gave you?"
I smile. "Thank you, Pinkie." It doesn't hurt. "It doesn't fit me anymore, though. What do you both think of... Spelly Pie?"
Pinkie and Twilight exchange glances.
"Spelly?"
"Like speleology, the study of caves?" Twilight asks at length.
"That's right!" I laugh. It doesn't hurt. "Not to mention I was created by magic, so... A spell, right?"
"Oh my gosh!" Pinkie bounces so high I'm afraid she'll knock another stalactite loose. "Spelly, you're smiling and laughing! And you're not getting migraines! This is the best thing ever!"
"It really is!" I laugh again for good measure. "In the pool, I met... I think they were the things that were summoned when you used it, Pinkie. They took your form, but they're part of the pool, just like I am. Or was." I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "Because I'm my own pony now."
"You've even got a cutie mark." Twilight points to my flank. There's a perfect scale image of the granite porphyry boulder that was blocking this cave. Oh my gosh!
Pinkie bounces over and hugs me, and Twilight, holding a hoof to her head, smiles.
"So how does it feel being your own pony finally?"
Twilight stood opposite Rainbow Dash on the train platform, a pink wool scarf wrapped tightly around her neck and a pair of saddlebags strung over her back. Dash had her own scarf, the navy blue one Twilight had given her for Hearth’s Warming Eve. Rainbow Dash’s lips trembled as she looked at her friend’s face.
“Well...” Twilight said, kicking at the thin layer of snow on the ground. “I guess this is goodbye again. At least for a little while.”
“Yeah...” Dash tried not to be too choked up. She didn’t want her sniffling to be Twilight’s last memory of her before leaving. “It’s, uh, going to be a while until you get another chance to visit, huh?”
Twilight cast her eyes towards the station floor, her smile fading slightly with a mirthless chuckle. “Yeah. It was nice spending time with you girls again. It sort of reminded me of the good-ol’-days.”
“Yeah, me too. The group’s not the same without you.” Dash scratched the back of her head and tried to think of something to say, but nothing came to mind. “Um, st-study hard, you hear? Canterlot’s a big town, and it isn’t going to be easy proving you’re the best unicorn around.”
“Yeah,” Twilight said, giggling, her smile returning. “I’ll do my best.”
“And, uh... And, uh...” Dash bit her lip, staring down at her hooves and the snow and the red brick platform where she’d scraped the snow away. “I, uh...”
“And?” Twilight tilted her head, her smile just as bright as usual.
Dash looked up and her eyes met Twilight’s. At that moment, Dash choked. She wished she didn’t, but she did. “Oh, nothing.” She waved a hoof dismissively, chuckling nervously. “Lost my train of thought!”
Twilight looked to their side, where the train was pulled into the station and waiting, its seats and quarters empty on such a late run on a cold night. “Speaking of trains, I should probably...” she trailed off, giving a meaningful glance between Dash and the train.
“Oh, right.” Dash’s ears drooped, pressing flat against her head as a cold breeze passed through the station.
“Hey,” Twilight said, reaching out and rubbing Dash’s shoulder. “It’s not like we’re never going to see each other again. I’m sure I’ll be able to visit when I get some time off in the summer.”
Summer. It sounded like an eternity away for Dash. “Yeah...”
Twilight chewed her lip. She reached back into one of her saddlebags, pulling out a long, thin rectangular case, its silver cover filled with small, detailed etchings. “I got you a second present. I saw it in a shop in Canterlot and thought you might like it.”
Twilight gave it to Dash. Dash looked down at the casing, struggling to read the cursive etched onto it under the dim platform lights—though she recognized the patterns around it to be feathers. She opened the case. Inside was a gold-painted quill sitting on a red velvet bed along with a few small cartridges of ink sitting in the top-left corner.
A small piece of parchment fell from the lid of the case. Dash picked it up, a puzzled look crossing her face as she read it. “What’s this?”
“It’s where I’m staying in Canterlot. This way we can write to each other until I come back. I thought it might help to bridge the gap between visits.”
Dash stood, silently staring at the small silver case she’d been handed. Sitting down, she ran a hoof along the quill; it felt even softer than her own feathers.
Across from her, Twilight’s smile faded. “Don’t you like it?”
Her voice snapped Dash out of her thoughts, she glanced between Twilight and the quill. “No, no, I absolutely love it.”
Twilight let out a small sigh of relief, reaching back and closing the cover of her saddlebag. “Good,” she said, giving Dash a nod and a smile. She turned and walked on the train, stopping at the top of the metal steps to face Dash. “We’ll keep in touch.”
Dash smiled weakly and gave her a nod. “Yeah.”
The train’s whistle blew, signalling a minute until departure. For a while neither of them spoke, neither quite knowing what to say. Dash shivered from the frigid air. She bit her scarf and wrapped it tighter around her neck, refusing to let the cold get to her. She saw Twilight catch the action and smile.
“It’s a lot colder up in Canterlot,” Twilight said, glancing into the window of the passenger car on her side.
Dash grinned and shook her head. “Yeah, I don’t know how you stand it up there. Just be careful you don’t freeze your tail off while you’re there.” Her smile disappeared, her eyes lowering to the wheels and chassis of the cars. “And I’ll be sure to write often, so you make sure you reply, okay?”
“Promise,” Twilight said, crossing her heart.
The train’s engine slowly began to chug, a billow of smoke pouring out the chimney of the front car as it started to move. Twilight gave Rainbow Dash one last wave goodbye and stepped into the passenger car. And long after the train peeled away from the station, its cars and lights just a distant line in the night, Dash stood on the platform, staring after it.
She tore her gaze away from the distant darkness, glaring down at the snow with a frown upon her face, kicking it angrily and mumbling to herself. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” She stared at the snow she kicked and sighed, a light snowfall beginning to dance to the ground around her.
A week passed. Rainbow Dash couldn’t bring herself to write anything after Twilight left. But after the first week, her desire to talk to Twilight again began to outweigh her anxiety. The golden quill Twilight gave her was amazing—at least as far as Dash knew—and she almost felt bad using it to scrawl her messy writing down on parchment. She botched the first three letters. The first two because her words kept coming out wrong, and the third because she spilled a cartridge of ink across the paper. After two weeks, and on the fourth letter, she mailed her, writing the address Twilight gave her on the small piece of paper in her quill case, which she had committed to memory. The letter she wrote read:
From: Rainbow Dash To: Twilight Sparkle
Dear Twilight,
It’s been forever since I’ve written a letter. My writing’s probably messier than you’re used to, so sorry about that. Maybe I’ll see if Rarity can give me some writing lessons. Her writing’s always impeccably neat.
The girls are doing fine. We all had lunch over at Fluttershy’s the other day. Would you believe it? She accidentally put out six placemats and chairs instead of five. It’s like she thought you were still here or something. She blushed like mad at first, but then everyone sort of grew quiet. We already miss you again, Twilight.
Sometimes I even forget you’re gone. I went by the library the other day to return a Daring Do book, and when I opened the door, I half expected to see you there sorting books or reading through something yourself. I can’t tell you how disappointing it was to see Ms. Featherduster’s old wrinkled face there instead of yours.
And I’m really sorry about taking this long to write. I wanted to send something sooner, but every time I sat down and put pen to paper my mind would just suddenly draw a blank, even if I knew what I was going to write before.
Anyways, everyone here’s doing fine. I hope you are too.
- Rainbow Dash
It was only five days before Rainbow Dash recieved a reply in the mail.
From: Twilight Sparkle To: Rainbow Dash
Dear Rainbow,
I’ve been doing well in Canterlot. Winter’s in full swing here now, so I’m mostly just staying indoors and reading things by the fire. Your letter was the best thing I’ve read since getting here (even if the writing was a little bit messy).
It’s actually nice in a way to hear that the other girls miss me. I miss them a lot, too, and I was slightly afraid that I’d leave and no one would even be able to tell the difference. I guess it’s nice to know that I had a place in Ponyville. I’m still trying to figure out what my place is in Canterlot.
I wish I had more to talk about, but I haven’t gotten much studying done. The library isn’t all that close to where I’m staying, and we’re buried in knee-high snow over here.
I’ve missed each of you every bit as much as you’ve missed me.
- Twilight Sparkle
The day Rainbow Dash received the letter she read it exactly a dozen times, once right after bringing it inside, three times over breakfast, six times by dinner, and twice more when she lay in bed, right before drifting off to sleep. Reading the letter had filled her with a sort of energy, one she had been severely lacking since Twilight left.
The next morning, Dash visited Rarity. She knocked on her door and asked politely if she could come in.
They talked over brunch: a combination of danishes, croissants, and warm butter, during which, Rainbow Dash showed her the letter Twilight wrote. Rarity stayed quiet as she read, a smile slowly spreading across as she read each sentence, and when she was done, she read it once more.
Then Dash showed Rarity her letter, and explained that she wanted writing lessons. Rarity explained how busy her schedule was, and how little time she had, but still, she agreed to teach her. Because no matter how busy she was, she couldn’t bring herself to say no.
So Rainbow Dash spent a couple hours each morning at Rarity’s, learning not only proper calligraphy, but also how to write a good letter.
It was a week from receiving Twilight’s letter that Rainbow Dash replied:
From: Rainbow Dash To: Twilight Sparkle
Dear Twilight,
A week’s passed since I got your letter. I must have read it a hundred times by now, and I can picture every word, and every sentence being said by you.
I also started training and flying again. I’ll be honest, I was sort of down in the dumps for a while after you left. Who would’ve thought I’d miss having someone who I can talk to books about, right? I actually haven’t even touched the next Daring Do book. Between writing practice with Rarity, working at the weather center, and training, the book’s managed to slip my mind. And, I mean, it’s just not the same reading it without you to talk to. A lot of the fun I had with those books was dropping by the library and hanging out with you after reading a chapter or two.
Fluttershy has been pretty busy spending this week checking on all the hibernating animals, making sure their dens and burrows haven’t caved in or anything. Pinkie Pie has been mercilessly throwing herself into baking. She’s gotten it in her head that she’s going to cook an entire batch of cookies for everypony in Ponyville. She says she feels bad that only her friends got to try her Hearth’s Warming Eve cookies, so she’s baking them for everyone. Applejack’s... well, I don’t know actually. I haven’t heard from her in a while. I should probably go check up on her. Make sure the snow didn’t collapse her barn or something.
Rarity’s the only one who I get to see. And it’s not because she isn’t busy—it’s the complete opposite, actually, she’s probably the busiest out of all of us here in Ponyville. She’s been teaching me how to write cursive, and how to write letters, despite being really busy.
It feels like we’re slowly slipping apart. You’re the one who brought us all together in the first place, and without you we’re slowly drifting back to where we were.
I forgot how boring Ponyville was before you showed up.
- Rainbow Dash
Rainbow Dash passed the letter off at the postal office. And then, she waited.
It was two and a half weeks before she received a reply, and when she did she tore a rip halfway through Twilight’s letter in her haste to open it. She’d had a small panic attack after tearing it, scrambling to her kitchen and trying to look for some glue or tape to hold it back together. Eventually, she calmed down and set the damaged letter on her kitchen table, holding the two halves together, and read it. It was short, only two sentences long.
From: Twilight Sparkle To: Rainbow Dash
Dear Rainbow Dash,
I’ve read your letter at least five times. I’m confused, who exactly is drifting apart?
- Twilight Sparkle
From: Rainbow Dash To: Twilight Sparkle
Me, Applejack, Rarity, everyone. It’s just like none of us can find time to be with each other anymore. I just don’t know what to do about it.
- Rainbow Dash
Less than a week later, Rainbow Dash received a reply.
From: Twilight Sparkle To: Rainbow Dash
Dear Rainbow,
I’m... really sorry to hear that. I had no idea.
I’ve been really busy lately, and I feel awful knowing that my leaving left this kind of void in our group friendship. The time I spent with you girls in Ponyville will always be the best time of my life, and nothing will ever manage to change that.
Listen, Rainbow Dash, I know you, and everyone else is busy, but please do me a favor. Don’t let them drift away. I need you to keep the group together in my absence. I know that what we had wasn’t all because of me, and I know you girls will be able to find that same magic again without me. You just need to try.
Please, Rainbow.
- Twilight Sparkle
After reading the letter, Rainbow Dash sat down for a while and stared blankly at the paper. She didn’t read it a dozen times like the last letter, she just stared blankly at it, thinking about the brief message it held.
When Dash showed up at Rarity’s that morning, they sat down and talked instead of having practice as usual. Rainbow Dash shared a plan to get the girls back together, how they would all visit each other once a week on the same day of the week, and each time the pony whose house they met at would change.
It took an hour to convince Rarity, and another three to visit all the others and convince them, too. All of them had the same gripe of having a packed calendar. Eventually they settled on Wednesdays, which happened to be tomorrow, in fact. And after Rainbow Dash had taken them all out for lunch, not having much of a home for her wingless friends to go to, she went home and wrote another letter.
From: Rainbow Dash To: Twilight Sparkle
Dear Twilight,
I did it! I did it! I did what you said and got everyone to meet once a week! I’m writing this right after having lunch with the girls. It was great, everyone just sorta fell right into talking. It was just like old times when you were in Ponyville!
We all felt pretty silly after lunch. I think almost all of us left wondering why we hadn’t done something like that sooner. I think this is the happiest I’ve been since Hearth’s Warming Eve.
But it still wasn’t the same without you. Don’t get me wrong, it was great and it’s awesome getting to spend time with each other again, but I still miss you.
I want to know how you’re doing.
- Rainbow Dash
From: Twilight Sparkle To: Rainbow Dash
Dear Rainbow,
I miss you a lot, too. More than the other girls, if I had to admit it. I miss your excitement and enthusiasm—they’re rare commodities in my life right now, and the only times I really feel them is when I read your letters.
I don’t want to bore you with the details. I don’t even know what there is to tell; most of my day is just spent reading or attending boring political functions at the castle. Even Spike’s been bored to tears since we got back.
- Twilight Sparkle
From: Rainbow Dash To: Twilight Sparkle
Then don’t tell me about the details, just tell me about you.
- Rainbow Dash
From: Twilight Sparkle To: Rainbow Dash
Dear Rainbow,
Alright.
I feel as though I’ve hit a wall. I’m spending all my day studying history, relics of the past, and long theses of magic written by modern unicorns who I don’t even know to impress their colleagues whom I’ve never met. I feel like I’m running on the spot, and ever since leaving Ponyville again I’ve fallen into a slump. I just don’t know why I’m even doing this anymore. I’m butting heads with an iron wall, hoping it’ll budge an inch, and all the while my skull is cracked and I’m missing the steadily growing light-headedness I get for trying.
Your letters and my duty to the Princess are the only things keeping me going. But I don’t know how long that will last.
- Twilight Sparkle
From: Rainbow Dash To: Twilight Sparkle
I’ll write more often.
- Rainbow Dash
From: Rainbow Dash To: Twilight Sparkle
Dear Twilight,
Your letter about being stuck in place made me remember my dream about being in the Wonderbolts—I can hardly believe I forgot it.
I’ve started scheduling my training more and taking less hours at work. I guess I’ll have to learn how to cook cheap food. Er, cheaper food, that is.
The others are doing good. We made a point of always putting out friendship above work, and so far no one’s missed a meetup yet. Although there was that one that Rarity was an hour late to—but nevermind that.
I’ve stopped taking writing lessons, it’s mostly self improvement from here on out. Can you tell I’ve gotten better?
- Rainbow Dash
From: Twilight Sparkle To: Rainbow Dash
Dear Rainbow,
If I hadn’t seen the steady progress in each letter, I would never believe someone if they told me that last letter had been written by you. It looks even neater than Fluttershy’s writing. (But don’t tell her I said that!)
It makes me really happy to hear you’re pursuing your dream eagerly again. Having personally seen your flying save Equestria more than once, I just know you’ll get into the Wonderbolts; I’ve never seen a better flier than you.
In fact, what’s stopping you from applying right now?
- Twilight Sparkle
From: Rainbow Dash To: Twilight Sparkle
Uh, right now?
- Rainbow Dash
From: Twilight Sparkle To: Rainbow Dash
Sure, why not?
- Twilight Sparkle
Rainbow Dash sat at her kitchen table staring at the last letter for over an hour, its three simple words, Sure, why not? staring back at her.
But after a while, Twilight’s earlier letter caught her eye.
I’m butting heads with an iron wall, hoping it’ll budge an inch, and all the while my skull is cracked and I’m missing the steadily growing light-headedness I get for trying.
When she looked at all the letters together, it begged the question that she had been failing to ask herself all this time: what was she doing?
Rainbow Dash got out a fresh piece of paper and her quill.
From: Rainbow Dash To: Spitfire
Dear Spitfire,
It’s been a while since we last met. I hope you still remember me.
I’ve been practicing and I think I’m ready to give it a shot. I was wondering if you guys could hold a tryout for me sometime.
- Rainbow Dash
She fiddled with the edge of the paper for a while, thinking about everything that had happened in the past few months. Before going to practice, she mailed the envelope off, struggling to keep the thought of Spitfire’s reply out of her head all the while as she did her maneuvers.
A few days after sending it off, she wrote another letter to Twilight.
From: Rainbow Dash To: Twilight Sparkle
Dear Twilight,
I did it. I sent a tryout request to Spitfire a few days ago.
This week has sucked. I couldn’t even enjoy the meetup with Rarity, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, and Applejack because I’ve been to busy biting my hooves over the response I’ll get.
What if they reject me? What if they accept and I fail the tryout? What if they accept and I do well in the tryout? The last one shouldn’t frighten me, but it does for some reason and I don’t know why.
I need something to distract me. Could you tell me what it’s like living in Canterlot?
- Rainbow Dash
From: Twilight Sparkle To: Rainbow Dash
Dear Rainbow,
The sun rises early and sets late from the slope of the mountain, and the sunrises and sunsets here are beautiful. The cold air actually causes the clouds and sky to bounce light from the sun off differently, but I won’t get into the science of it, just know that the hues of pink and purple that spread across the sky blend together in a way that you always hear about, but never really see.
The city itself is a center for scholars, magical and otherwise. They have three libraries, none of them near where I live, but still, three libraries. And each of them holds books found no place else. The bookworm in me couldn’t be happier.
The rest of me is another story. I miss having friends—and I miss you. I never had any friends when I lived in Canterlot before, and now it’s practically impossible to make any with how I’ve been thrown into my studies. The only pony I really have to confide in here is the Princess, but there’s some things you just don’t waste a Princess’ time talking about.
I miss Ponyville’s community. That to me is the biggest difference moving back here.
- Twilight Sparkle
Whenever Rainbow was tempted to bite her hoof, whenever she began feeling anxious about her letter to Spitfire again, she read Twilight’s letter about Canterlot. She carried it with her for a week, and halfway through that week she could recite the letter from memory. Each time she read it she could close her eyes and almost picture the sunsets, the stiff and regal ponies at the castle, and libraries as big as gymnasiums filled with stories of bookshelves so high a ladder was needed to reach anything but the bottom shelves. She could picture Twilight sitting there, reading them all, and that thought made her smile.
One night, while smiling, she sat down and wrote a reply:
From: Rainbow Dash To: Twilight Sparkle
Dear Twilight,
You’ve never stopped being a part of the community here, we still talk about you all the time. Applejack told us a funny story about you at the last meetup. I don’t even remember what it was about, but it was the best story I’ve heard in years.
I’ve been reading your letter constantly. For some reason I’m not all that worried about the reply from Spitfire anymore. I’ve sort of entered a zen (is that what you call it?) state about the whole matter, figuring that whatever happens, happens, and that there’s absolutely no use thinking about it.
I helped Applejack repaint a barn a couple days ago. It was cool getting a chance to hang out with her again. I should see what Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy are doing and see if I can do something with them, too.
Oh, speaking of the other girls, we started to call our weekly dates “Sparkle Meetups”. Totally lame, right? Well you’d probably be surprised to find out that I came up with the idea, then. It sounds horribly cheesy every time I say it, but I can’t help the smile I get every time I say it, too.
- Rainbow Dash
It was only a few days later that Dash recieved a reply from Spitfire. Like ritual, she had sat down at her kitchen table and read it, all the other letters she received in a small pile on the table next to her. And as she read the reply, her heart leapt with joy.
From: Spitfire To: Rainbow Dash
Dear Rainbow Dash,
I’m glad you contacted me. It’s been a while since we last met, and while we haven’t met often, you’ve managed to really impress me every single time. I’ve seen you fly, and I can say with the utmost confidence that you are one of the best and most talented fliers Equestria has to offer.
Unfortunately, the Wonderbolts roster is locked in contract for a year and a half. Our main roster, and substitute roster will remain full until that time, or until a breach of contract (which isn’t very likely).
I’m sorry. This must be difficult to hear, but you’re going to have to wait at least a year before we can try you out for the team. Know that if you do decide to try out in a year, you’ll have my vote of confidence.
-Wonderbolts Captain, Spitfire
It was the strangest thing. By the end of the letter Rainbow Dash had a full blown smile upon her face. She felt bad for feeling such joy at hearing the bad news, but it was overwhelmed by the immense relief she felt at not having to worry about the Wonderbolts for an entire year.
But this troubled Dash. And she spent the next three days with a furrowed brow and a frown on her face, thinking about why she’d been so happy whilst reading the letter. Some of her friends even tried to figure out what was wrong with her; the Rainbow Dash they knew wasn’t one to be lost in deep thought for so long. And indeed, somewhere in her puzzling, she puzzled about why she was spending so much time puzzling over this.
It was on that third night, while lying in bed, that she had a realization.
Forgoing sleep, she hopped out of bed and grabbed the letter Twilight had written her about Canterlot out from her writing desk drawer.
The paper in front of her was just a formality with how many times she’d read it. Instead of looking at the paper, she closed her eyes and listened to the letter in Twilight’s voice, taking what she knew of Canterlot and picturing it with what Twilight described in her letter.
She saw Twilight standing by a railing overlooking the plains surrounding Canterlot with the sunrise in the background, her hair blowing softly in the breeze and a peaceful smile upon her face. Dash could still picture her smile. Even after all the months that had passed, she still remembered their parting in vivid detail, from Twilight’s eyes to the chill of the winter breeze and the snow beneath her hooves.
With all that in mind, Dash wrote a letter.
From: Rainbow Dash To: Twilight Sparkle
Dear Twilight,
I got a reply from Spitfire a few days ago. She told me I wouldn’t be able to tryout for the Wonderbolts for at least another year. Something about contracts.
But here’s the thing: I’m not at all sad or discouraged about it. I’m actually kind of relieved. I grew up dreaming about becoming a Wonderbolt, and now that I’m there, I don’t really want to be one anymore. I hope you’re not disappointed, or that you think my dream has died, I actually feel a lot better now than I have these past few weeks. And just now, lying in bed, I realized I have a new dream.
I need to see you. That day when we said goodbye on the train platform, there was something I desperately wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know what it was.
Well, I’ve remembered.
- Rainbow Dash
From: Twilight Sparkle To: Rainbow Dash
I don’t think I’ll be able to get away from the work I have to do here. My calendar is filled until summer.
Can it wait?
- Twilight Sparkle
From: Rainbow Dash To: Twilight Sparkle
No.
- Rainbow Dash
A few days later, without telling anypony, Rainbow Dash caught a train to Canterlot.
Dash sat on one a seat in one of the passenger cars, her eyes fixed on the small silver case in her hooves, tracing its etchings. She only brought two items: that, and the scarf Twilight had also given her during her visit on Hearth’s Warming Eve.
She popped open the quill case and stared at the golden quill inside. It looked so different now, having seen use. But in a way its nicks and damages made it more beautiful to Rainbow Dash than when she first saw it. It had character and personality, and it was hers. Picking it up, she traced the vane of the feather with her hoof, the feel of its ridges and barbs a familiar comfort.
The train’s whistle blew. Dash’s head snapped up and looked around. The train was riding on a hill, steadily climbing higher, and all around it were mountains and open plains. Rainbow Dash leaned her head against the window and looked ahead, seeing that the train station was in sight. The chugging of the trains wheels began to slow down, and Dash snapped her quill case shut, tucking it back in a saddlebag she’d brought along and making her way to the front of the passenger car.
The sound of the train became deafening when she stepped outside. Even with it slowing down, the rattling of the wheels on the track and a steady metal banging hurt her ears. The train continued to slow down and enter the station. Dash hopped off it while it was still moving, landing at a trot on the platform.
She looked above the sea of ponies surrounding her, spotting a map posted to the side of a pillar just a short distance away. She walked up to it and stared at it, her eyes lost in all the small addresses written on it.
A passerby bumped into her, and Dash turned around to see a stallion walking past. “Hey! Excuse me!”
The stallion turned to her, raising an eyebrow.
Dash quickly took the quill case out of her bag and popped it open, showing him the small piece of paper inside. “Can you show me where this is on the map?”
The stallion looked down at the address, before pointing to a spot on the map. “It’s here, right outside the castle grounds.”
Dash stared at the spot for a few seconds, committing it to memory, and then turned back to the stallion. “Okay, thanks!”
He gave her a stiff nod and walked off.
Rainbow Dash walked to the exit of the station, a nervous excitement filling up her chest as she took off and flew towards the place on the map.
“She’s not here.”
“Huh? What do you mean she’s not here?” Rainbow Dash asked, staring down at Spike. “When’s she going to be back?”
Spike shrugged. “Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow?”
“Maybe?”
“She pulls all nighters studying at the castle library all the time. I pretty much just look after the place so that when she gets back she can go right to bed.”
Rainbow Dash fidgeted, glancing back over her shoulder at the view of the castle. “Do you know how I can get to see her?”
Spike motioned for her to come inside, walking over to a desk up against the wall. He opened a drawer and took out a piece of paper, then opened the two drawers below it, a frown marring his face. “Hey, do you have a pen or a quill?”
Dash smirked, reaching back into her saddlebag and taking out her case. “Mind if I write it?”
“Yeah, sure, go ahead.” Spike walked over to a bookshelf on the opposite side of the room, returning to a pile of books he’d been sorting. “Just remember to address it to the Princess.”
Dash sat down at the desk, popping open the case, and began to write.
From: Rainbow Dash To: Princess Celestia
Dear Princess Celestia,
I need to talk to Twilight. It’s important. Please give her my letter and tell her to meet me in the castle garden.
- Rainbow Dash
Rainbow Dash set her quill down, staring at the brief message for a moment in thought. Suddenly, an idea struck her. Reaching into the drawer, she pulled out another piece of paper and placed it on the desk, moving her original letter to the side. Spike stopped sorting his books to look at her, watching her quickly jot down a few lines. She put her quill back in its case and snapped the case shut, rolling up the two letters and handing them to Spike.
Spike took them, no questions asked, and sent them both off in a puff of green flame. “What was the second one for?”
Rainbow Dash left her saddlebag by the desk and stood to leave, stopping in front of the doorway. “For Twilight,” she said, and walked out the door.
Rainbow Dash sat on a bench in the middle of Canterlot gardens, inside the visitor’s grounds of the castle. Short, wiry trees, just getting their first buds of the season, lay scattered around her. White lights dangled from the trees’ branches and lined the cement walkways through the garden. It was getting late. The sky had changed to a golden yellow, the sun floating just off the horizon.
Dash sighed, her heart sinking. She’d been waiting for hours. She gladly would have waited longer if it meant she got to see her. But the reality that Twilight wasn’t coming was beginning to sink in, and her nose and ears were quickly reddening as it grew colder.
Standing, Dash was ready to leave. But then the sound of hoofsteps came from behind her. She froze, slowly turning around.
Standing on the walkway just a short distance away was Twilight. For a while, both of them simply stared, a thick silence caught between them.
Twilight broke it first. “I got your letter,” she said, a red hue creeping up onto her cheeks. “I got here as soon as I could.”
“Oh...” Rainbow Dash said lamely, staring down at her hooves. “Did you read it?”
Twilight swallowed and slowly nodded. “Why tell me that through a letter, though?”
Dash looked away, pawing the ground with her hooves and flattening her ears against her head. “Last time I wanted to say it was when I last saw you, at the station.” She took a shaky breath, the cold air filling her lungs. “I was afraid I might not be able to say it again, so I wrote it down.”
Twilight covered her mouth and shook her head. She paced back and forth across the narrow walkway, blinking constantly and giving Rainbow Dash a nervous glance every few seconds. Eventually she stopped and she hung her head, her mane falling over her eyes.
“Did... did you mean it?” she asked, the words escaping her like a last breath.
Wordlessly, Dash walked over to her. She stopped in front of her, lifting a hoof and tilting her chin up.
Their eyes met. Twilight’s eyes were the same shade of violet Rainbow Dash remembered. And they stared up at her with uncertainty, searching her own eyes for reassurance. Dash’s heart began to pound, and she imagined her own eyes to hold just as much uncertainty as Twilight’s.
Before either of them knew what they were doing, their lips met in a kiss.
The cold vanished instantly, replaced by a warmth that spread from Rainbow’s lips throughout the rest of her body. Twilight’s hooves wrapped around her neck and pulled her closer, pulled her down into the kiss, and she felt Twilight’s warm, soft chest press up against hers, the fine hairs on the unicorn’s coat sliding against her own. All her pent up feelings, all her frustrations, all her need for Twilight was channeled into her lips, and she could feel the same from Twilight.
They broke the kiss and looked at each other, their noses just barely touching. Twilight’s eyes seemed different than before. They seemed happy. And Rainbow Dash let out a small laugh as she couldn’t help the gigantic smile that spread across her face.
“What will we do now?” Twilight asked, still searching Dash’s eyes.
“Ponyville, Canterlot,” Rainbow Dash said, “it doesn’t matter. I’ll go wherever you are.”
A warm smile spread across Twilight’s face. Suddenly, she looked up.
Dash followed her eyes and saw the sky had become painted bright pink, spotted with clouds of a deeper purple. “It’s just like your letter,” Dash said, staring up at it.
Twilight nodded, quietly staring up at it.
Rainbow Dash wrapped a wing around Twilight. And the two of them lingered in the garden until dark, watching the sky, caught between winter and spring, as it changed with the setting sun.
Lyra stared at her bookshelf. It was filled with tome after tome of mythologies she had written about her favorite subject in all of Equestria: Humans. She rested her gaze on the newest volume of her work and frowned. This isn’t the type of story that we’re interested in at this time... Gritting her teeth, Lyra flared her horn and threw the books off the shelf, across the room. They hit the wall and fell to the floor, making a loud crash.
A moment later Bon Bon opened the door and peered inside. “Lyra?” She trotted into the room, carrying Tootsie Flute on a harness Lyra had made for her. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve been to every publisher in Canterlot and none of them want to publish my books!” Lyra stomped her hoof on the floor.
Tootsie Flute started crying and Bon Bon patted her back. “It’ll be okay, Lyra, we make enough with the candy shop.”
“It’s not about the money,” Lyra grumbled. “It’s about ponies reading books that I’ve written. It’s about them sharing the same joy I have for humans. I want other ponies to be inspired to write about humans, the same way I was inspired to as a filly. Right now the only stories about Humans are silly picture books for foals.” Lyra started to gaze off into space.
“Why don’t you try writing about something else for a change?”
“Huh?” Lyra turned to her.
“Write a few stories about ponies, then after your Pony stories get popular, you start publishing your books about Humans.”
Lyra cracked a grin. “Yeah, yeah! This is a great idea. Why didn’t I think of it?” Lyra planted a kiss on her wife’s cheek. “Thanks, Bon Bon.”
“I’ll leave you to that, then,” Bon Bon said, trotting out of the room.
Lyra took a out scroll of parchment and her quill. Let’s see... What to write about... She stood there in silence for a moment before growling. Arrg! I can’t think of an idea that isn’t about humans.
She stomped over to her window and gazed outside. The sun was just setting over the horizon when she saw a streak of rainbow fly through the air. Lyra’s eyes widened and she started writing.
A week had passed since Lyra started her Pony story. During that time, she only left her study for food and bathroom breaks. Bon Bon had even moved their bed there so they could still have each other’s warmth as they slept.
Bon Bon was still asleep when Lyra scribbled out the last page of her manuscript. And so, with Ahuizotl defeated, and the sapphire statue secured, the world was safe and sound once again, thanks to Daring Do! Lyra put down her quill. “Brilliant!”
“Huh?” Bon Bon sat up a little.
“Go back to sleep, Bon Bon.” Lyra trotted over and kissed her on the forehead before setting off to the publishing house.
“Get out, ya bum!”
Lyra fell on her flank outside the door to Canterlot Publishing. She was about to stand up when the manuscript of Daring Do and the Quest for the Sapphire Stone flew through the air and landed on the stone path next to her. She got up, dusted herself off, and picked up the book she had written.
They wouldn’t even look at it. Her stomach rumbled, making her lose her frown. She spotted a café and decided to have breakfast. Her meal consisted of a bagel with cream cheese, a bowl of oats, and a cup of coffee. As she sat down to eat, her gaze rested on the street in front of her. The ponies traveling it chatted with each other, most of them on their way to work. She took a bite of her bagel.
A grey pegasus who was cantering along the road, turned and went into the café. A large mailbag was strapped across her chest. Lyra’s eye’s widened. She quickly took out her quill—which she always brought with her in case she got another idea for a book—and started scribbling the address of the publishing house on the envelope of her manuscript. She was about to write her own return address, but stopped. I can’t use my real name or they’ll just throw it away! Darting her vision around, she soon glanced at the side of her flank and saw a portion of her lyre cutie mark.
Heartstrings! In an instant, she wrote the return address on the envelope with her new pen-name at the top. She looked back at the doorway to the café; the mailmare was just trotting out with her morning coffee.
Lyra took out the title page. Here’s hoping this works. Her horn glowed and her name disappeared off the page. In it’s place Lyra quickly wrote Heartstrings.
She glanced up from her paper to see the pegasus getting ready to take off. “Wait!” Lyra screamed. She stuffed the page back in the envelope, sealed it, and darted over to the mailmare. “Here!” Lyra shoved it in her face. “Could you deliver this for me, please?”
The pegasus raised an eyebrow at it. “I’ll need a bit for the stamp.”
“Okay, okay.” Lyra paid the mailmare, who then saluted with a wall-eyed expression and took to the sky.
Lyra grinned like a madmare as she went back to her breakfast.
A week later, Lyra got a letter from the publishing house. They accepted her submission and her novel would be published the following autumn. The three month wait had been agonizing for Lyra. But when she finally got her hooves on a her advance copy, she knew this was something that was worth waiting for. Another month had passed when Bon Bon came into Lyra’s study.
“Just a minute, Bon Bon.” Lyra scribbled out the end of the sentence she was on and put down her quill. “Now, what was it you wanted?”
“You got another letter from the publishing house.” Bon Bon started to place it on Lyra’s desk, but Lyra leapt in the air and snatched it from her.
“Mine!” She tore it open and started reading. It said that her book had sold out of it’s second printing and they were getting ready to make a third. It asked that Lyra get started on the sequel right away. Included was the first month’s royalty check for 100,000 bits. “Aww, yeah!” Grinning, Lyra did a backflip in the air.
She levitated her saddlebags onto herself. “I’ll be back later, Bon Bon. Canterlot Publishing wants to see my next book,” she said, dropping the letter and the first few volumes of her Human books into her bag. Wait’ll they see these. She trotted outside, chuckling to herself.
Lyra felt like she could glide as she sped off and the trip seemed to take no time at all to her. A smirk planted itself on her face as she opened the door. “Hey, guys!”
Raven—the pony who worked as an editor for Canterlot Publishing—stood and went over to Lyra, frowning. “You’re not welcome here.”
“Gee, I thought you asked to see my next book.” Lyra held up her letter. “But I guess another publisher might be interested in the work of a bestselling author.”
“Ha, I bet you stole that!” She pointed a hoof at Lyra.
“No, I’ll prove it!” Lyra took out her quill and a piece of paper. In one smooth motion she signed the name Heartstrings on it. “See!”
Raven sighed. “Okay, so you are Heartstrings. So let’s see what you have for us.”
Lyra gave her the first volume of her Human series, grinning.
Raven pushed her oversized glasses up and started reading. “Hey! This is the same dreck you showed us before!” She threw it back at Lyra. “The ponies who bought your Daring Do novel won’t buy this. We asked for a sequel to that!”
Lyra picked up her Human book and turned to leave. “Fine! I’ll write another Daring Do book.” She trotted out the door. Daring Do and the planet of the Humans, by Lyra “Heartstrings.” She started off for home, snickering to nopony in particular.
It was the dead of night. The ponies who worked at Canterlot Publishing had gone home for the day hours ago. A bug crawled up the shelf of first editions in Raven’s office; it rested on a copy of Daring Do and the Quest for the Sapphire Stone. The whole shelf started to rumble and the book fell to the floor, squashing the insect flat.
A bright light came from the pages inside as the book opened. A green hoof shot out and planted itself on the floor. The horn of a unicorn poked out of the pages, followed by a light green mane and then the rest of it’s head. “Rrrgg!” The unicorn dragged itself out of the book and just lay there, panting.
Eventually, it stood and scanned the room. It stopped when it’s spotted a quill and paper sitting on the desk. The unicorn took them and started scribbling on the paper.
“Horseapples.” Heartstrings crumpled the paper and threw it in the garbage.
“Lyra?” Bon Bon poked her head into Lyra’s study. “Are you coming to bed?”
Lyra dropped her quill. “Yeah, sure!” She left the room and they both trotted to their bedroom.
Bon Bon smiled. “How’s the next Daring Do book coming?”
“Great! Daring landed on Jarsoom and she’s just had first contact with the leader of one of the Human tribes.”
The nape of Bon Bon’s neck started to sweat and her smile disappeared. “That’s... great, Lyra...”
“Oh, and I have this great idea where she meets a dog named Woona.”
“Err...” Bon Bon gritted her teeth. “Isn’t that a nickname Princess Luna had as a foal?”
“Huh?” Lyra shrugged as they stepped through the bedroom door. “I guess I should’ve paid more attention in history class.”
Lyra and Bon Bon sat on the bed. “I doubt she’ll make an issue about it. Princess Luna probably don’t want to start a royal scandal.”
“Lyra?” Bon Bon tossed a blackberry in her mouth.
Lyra raised an eyebrow at Bon Bon. “Yeah?”
“Shut up.” Bon Bon pressed her lips against Lyra’s and shoved the blackberry in Lyra’s mouth. Lyra’s eye’s widened, but she quickly become lost in Bon Bon’s kiss.
When they broke off, Lyra realized that she swallowed the berry whole. Eh, whatever. They both crawled under the covers and Lyra wrapped her hooves around Bon Bon as they fell asleep.
The next morning they awoke to the sound of Tootsie Flute crying. “I’ll take care of it, Bon Bon, go back to sleep.” Lyra stood and walked over to Tootsie’s room, scratching her messy hair on the way.
“All right, what’s wrong?” Lyra levitated Tootsie in the air and sniffed at her diaper. “Still clean. I guess you’re hungry.” She brought her to the kitchen and prepared the formula for her. “There we go,” Lyra said, lifting the bottle to Tootsie’s mouth.
Lyra heard a knock at the door. Who could that be at this hour? Still holding her foal, Lyra trotted over and answered the door. “Hel—low!”
Heartstrings stood in the doorway. “Greetings, Lyra!” It wore a grin on it’s face. “I believe you have something of mine.”
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lyra’s forehead started to sweat.
“Daring Do and the Quest for the Sapphire Stone! I wrote it and now you won’t let me write the sequel.” Heartstrings tapped Lyra on the chest with her quill. Lyra looked down at Heartstrings’ hoof; it’s fur was covered in black patches. “If I don’t write, then I die! You wouldn’t want me to die, do you Lyra? Why, I’m like a sister to you.”
“Well...” Lyra gulped. “When you put it that way.”
“Good.”
The three of them went to Lyra’s study. Heartstrings kept her quill pointed at Lyra’s neck. Tootsie Flute looked up at them, smiling. “Dada!” she said, hooves outstretched at Heartstrings.
Heartstrings smirked. “Aww, look. She said her first word.”
Lyra dropped the quill that she was holding. “H-how’d you know t-that was her f-first word?”
“We’re sisters, you nimrod!” Heartstrings dug her quill into Lyra’s fur. “Now get back to writing!”
“Kay!” Lyra lifted the quill up and went back to writing.
Daring Do and the Griffon’s Goblet.
Daring Do’s eyes shot open. The bed she sat in wasn’t her own. She was in somebody else’s—
The quill dug even further into Lyra’s neck, drawing a trickle of blood. “Somepony!”
“R-right...” Lyra did as she was told and went back to the story.
somepony else’s house. She glanced out the window to see a nuclear missile charging right toward her.
“Let me take over now.” Heartstrings took Lyra’s quill.
Daring Do leapt out of bed and darted out of the room, down the hallway. She found herself in the kitchen. Thinking quickly, she opened the refrigerator and scattered the food all over the floor. Just as the missile broke through the wall of the house, Daring Do got in the empty fridge and shut the door.
“Are you kidding me?” Lyra looked up at Heartstrings. “They’ll never believe she survived that.”
“Hey, it’s my story. Got it?” She twisted the quill deeper into Lyra’s neck.
“Got it.” Lyra squeaked.
As Heartstring went back to writing Lyra glanced down at her lap. Her eyes widened when she saw black patches were popping up all over her fur. “Hey, wait a minute!”
Heartstrings laughed. “It’s too late, sister.”
Lyra punched Heartstrings across the face. Heartstrings grinned at her; the side of her face had a black streak across it. Lyra pulled her hoof back to see that a corner of it had been cut off. Lyra started pummeling Heartstrings, but every punch and kick only shredded parts of her limbs.
“I told you,” Heartstrings said, writing the last few words of the scene. “It’s too late.”
Heartstrings dropped her quill and Lyra turned to dust. Heartstrings levitated and broom over and swept up Lyra’s remains into a neat pile. Then she took a dustpan and swept the remains of Lyra the unicorn into it.
Heartstrings stood, trotted over to the window, and opened it. “Bye bye, sister.” She emptied the dustpan outside and watched as the black cloud blew across the city of Canterlot.
She turned back to her desk. “Oh, I almost forgot about you.” Despite the commotion a moment ago, Tootsie Flute had drifted off back to sleep. “C’mon, let’s go wake up Mom.” She lifted Tootsie Flute onto her back and left the room.
“Good Morning, Lyra!” Bon Bon said when she saw her and Tootsie come in the kitchen.
“Morning, Bon Bon.” She sat down at the table and placed Tootsie Flute in her highchair.
Bon Bon placed their breakfast of toast and jam on the table. “So, did you and Tootsie Flute get any writing done this morning?”
“Oh, yeah! I wrote a whole chapter.” She smiled. “Say, I’ve been thinking: why don’t we take the money I made from the first Daring Do book and move out of Canterlot?”
“Hmm.” Bon Bon put a hoof to her chin. ”I don’t know, Lyra. I still have the candy store here.”
“Well, we’ll hire somepony to manage it. Then we can go off to live in a small town. You know what they say: it takes a village to raise a foal.” She motioned to Tootsie Flute who sat just there, picking at her cereal.
“Well, when you put it that way.” Bon Bon smiled. “Do you have a town picked out?”
Did you miss me? Because I missed you like nobody’s business. I’m sorry I haven’t been here for a while. You know I always like coming to visit you, right? It always just feels too good to be true. The grass here is the softest anywhere, and this tall oak here makes the best shade you can find anyplace this side of Ponyville. It’s just perfect.
Good grief, how long has it been since we last saw each other? Weeks? Months? Well, it was just way too long, in any case. I don’t know why it seems like I can rarely make the time anymore, but I just can’t. Maybe it’s that those kids eat up so much of my schedule these days.
Oh, don’t get me wrong; I love ‘em all to death. Don’t you ever think that I’m not grateful to have them around, not even for a second. I wouldn’t trade them for all the gems and gold in the universe, but I have so many responsibilities now that I can’t really get away too often to visit you anymore.
It took me forever to get those two meatheads to look after the kids so I could get anywhere close to this place tonight. If I go back and find Charity gave little Tourmaline sugar again, like I specifically told her that little filly was not supposed to get, like ever, I swear I’m hitting her upside the head with something, maybe a rotten trout full of rocks.
Those are their own freaking kids, for Celestia’s sake. What’s wrong with those two? Why can’t they see that every time they leave those two all alone, it hurts them? Tourmaline always asks me why mommy or daddy aren’t around these days, and it makes me sick to have to try and explain that those two stupid foals are out partying again for the tenth time that week.
I’m sorry. Look at me, putting all my problems onto you. It’s not your fault I’ve been a lousy friend. I should have seen that that lousy jerk was no good for Charity years ago.
She used to be such a sweet little filly before he showed up. I remember her getting that old doll you made all those years ago, and she absolutely fell in love with it. Her eyes just lit up like her birthday and Hearth Warming Day had had a baby and given it to her as her very own.
She named it “Sir White Knight”, and insisted that he was her future husband, and that they’d have a castle even bigger than Canterlot Palace when she grew up and could get married too. She also insisted that he went out and battled monsters everyday and came home to his beautiful princess, or queen depending on her mood that day, to tell her stories all about it. Such epic adventures her knight-in-shining-armor had, and it took years before she saw him as anything but an actual pony prince that loved her and her alone.
Do you remember that doll? You’d been bored one day and thrown it together out of random scraps just for the heck of it. None of the colors matched, the eyes were two different styles of button, the mane was made out of at least a hundred different lengths and color of thread, and otherwise it looked downright horrifying. And you were so embarrassed. You hid for years in the house and never told anyone about it, not even your best friends.
I still remember the day I found it.
You were getting married. And you were so excited about the whole thing, positively giddy to the gills. I still remember how much you obsessed over making everything perfect for that one day for the three months preceding it. Nothing was to be allowed to go wrong.
The dress couldn’t have a single stitch crossed; you insisted on making every article of clothing yourself. Except the groom’s stuff, for which everypony had to sit you down and argue for two weeks to get at least that particular item made elsewhere.
The cake couldn’t be allowed a single swirl of frosting out of line. And when that troublesome trio tried to help, hoping to get some sort of “wedding cake decorator” Cutie Mark, you almost blew a vessel. It took ages to get the all the frosting off the walls of the kitchen. And the ceiling. And the floors.
At least we got all through it in the end, none worse for the wear. To be fair, they’d only been trying to help; plus, you have to admit, the frosting was pretty delicious for their first try.
Oh, sorry about that, I’m getting off track.
Well, when the day finally came, you were the loveliest mare anywhere on the planet. I remember going to check on you before the ceremony was going to take place. You putting the final touches on your dress, and I walked into the room as one of the girls was helping you with your veil.
Even Celestia couldn’t outshine you. I wish I could have taken a picture that could have done justice to that one moment, but even the best camera in the universe wouldn't have done the job properly.
It couldn’t ever have caught the gentle smell from your perfume, that heavenly scent of mango and peach that one of the girls had given you for your bachelorette party. It could never have truly captured the way the sun shone through your mane, a halo of soft light that reminded me why I always thought yours to be the greatest beauty of all Equestria.
Nor could it have given me the way you laughed and talked. Even as flustered as you were, those full lips stuttering through the instructions on how to properly pin the dress this way or that, the sound of your voice was sweeter than a hundred harps or a thousand flutes.
I tried to get out of the way, though walking while my eyes were entirely consumed by you was an admittedly difficult proposition. Thankfully, I managed to get to the bed and sit down on it, watching as the final touches were made. Eventually, the other girls had to leave so they could get ready for the ceremony. But I stayed for a while longer.
You stood stock still, terrified that a single wrong motion would ruin everything. Like the world would explode if a single wrinkle appeared in your dress. But I knew nothing you did could make you any less perfect, only less neat in your appearance. But, when you asked me why I was staring at you so hard, I had to look away, trying to find some way to explain myself.
That was the only reason I saw it, sticking out from under the bed where it had been unceremoniously crammed. And the blush that crossed your face made you even more lovely than before. You tried to explain it away, telling me that you’d been meaning to get rid of it and just hadn’t had the time. I told you I could take it, if you didn’t want it anymore.
It might have been shocking to you, but I couldn’t have thought of something I wanted more than that doll. It was something of yours I could keep with me, one of the few things I knew was from the days before today that showed something besides what you often liked to present to the public. It was a bit of that fun, creative side that wasn’t afraid to explore beyond your comfort zone, which you rarely showed to anypony when you thought they were looking.
We had to argue a little, true, but you let me have it in the end. Though more than a few ponies made comments when I showed up in the main chamber with the thing, I ignored them because this was now mine and no one else’s opinions on it mattered. I had something, a small piece of you, and no one could convince me it was anything less than precious.
Then the bells rung and you finally walked down the aisle, your father looking pleased as punch as he marched alongside you, and I wanted to faint, you were so beautiful to look at. But I didn’t, because just one second of not looking at you would have been a crime against nature.
And I hated the groom with every fiber of my being right at that moment. I hated him so badly, I wanted to incinerate him until only a black smudge of his expensive suit and ghastly bow-tie remained. But I didn’t, because this wasn’t about me. It was about you.
Still, when you said “I do”, a part of me died.
I should have known I could never have you, but some stupid part of my childish brain had always found some excuse around it. “True love finds a way”, and all that. But I had always known deep down that not all dreams come true, especially ones like mine, and that was the first time I found out that heartbreak doesn’t truly exist. There’s no actual shattering sensation when a dream is extinguished. Your heart just starts twisting and contracting in your chest, and it feels like you want to die, but the stupid thing refuses to just break and give you the gift of doing so.
When you two kissed, I almost fainted again. Instead, I just held that raggedy doll all the tighter, hoping the patchy cloth could somehow patch my now bleeding heart. How I managed to convince anyone I was fine, I have no real idea to this day. I suppose my tears were just lost amongst the oceans of everyone else’s. I wasn’t the only one weeping after all, though I know I wept the most bitterly.
I should have told you before then; I should have had the courage to say it before that day.
“I love you.”
Sure, it would've never worked, and I’d still have wanted to die that day. But I'd have at least said it; I could at least have been able to have a corner of my now mangled soul tell me, “You did something. You didn’t let this happen to you without telling her how you truly feel.”
But I didn't tell you. And now I never could. Because now you had someone else in your life who was going to be more important than me. How could I hurt you by telling you now of all times that I loved you? That seeing you with another made every fiber of my very being scream as though I’d been dipped in the world’s strongest acid?
Well, I couldn’t. So, instead, I sat on the side lines and watched you have the children we could never have, and raise them like we never could. I listened as your daughters learned to sing as sweetly as their mother; as your sons grew into strong, proud stallions like their father.
They grew up, and I was always there. Whenever you needed help, I was there. Whenever your children needed someone to protect them, I was there. I then watched your children have their own children, continuing the cycle of your precious bloodline. And I was there for them too, because I knew that this would make you happiest: to see them happy and protected.
But though the pain of losing you to him has lost some of its bite as the years passed, it's never truly stopped hurting. Even today, it still aches, deep, deep down. Because we both know you two still belong with each other. You can never be mine, and I can never be yours. All we can ever be is friends, as it has been and as it shall always be until the end of time. But, for you, I can do that. I'll always be your friend, no matter how badly it hurts to only be that to you.
I’m sorry, but I’ll have to cut our visit short; I should probably get back to the house now. Charity is likely either spoiling those kids rotten, or she’s just ignoring them entirely.
I don’t know how she could have gotten this way, unless it was from that jerk she married. They’ve even stopped taking care of this place, just because he says it isn’t worth the cost anymore. I’ve had to come here and do all the care-taking work myself. And he actually had the gall to try and sell this place to somepony so they could build a freaking summer home out here. Thankfully, I avoided any permanent damage to that thick skull of his, which was likely helped by that empty head of his.
They say I shouldn’t stay so attached to this place, but it’s the one spot where I know I can find peace. Right here, underneath this oak with you and all the others. So don't worry, I’ll always take care of you.
Tell you what, tomorrow I’ll be back with a fresh bunch of roses. I’ll clip the grass around here too, and maybe I can even remake the etchings if I’ve got the time. The rain's sort of worn them thin over the years. What can I tell you; they just don’t make headstones like they used to. But, before I go, I just want to make sure you know something. No matter how many centuries may have passed since that day, or will pass after today, I'll always be there for you and yours.
Because I love you. Please, never forget that your little Spikey-Wikey loves you, Rarity.
It was a calm day in Equestria, as Celestia’s sun gently beat down on the small town of Ponyville. It seems everypony was outside enjoying the brand new day. A particular pink pony was prancing about Ponyville with a spring in her step and a smile on her face. Her name was Pinkie Pie, she was Ponyville’s resident party thrower and one of the most spontaneous ponies anypony has ever seen. She was currently busy with her daily routine of greeting everypony that she passed, making sure that there was a smile on every face she could find. It was going well, as she continued on her quest to brighten up Ponyville’s day.
Outside of Ponyville, a mare was participating in a much calmer activity. A light yellow pegasus named Fluttershy was partaking in a picnic with a plethora of creatures. The mare was enjoying the tranquility of her method of recreation, and she caught herself humming a gentle tune while songbirds echoed the melody flawlessly. Fluttershy was Ponyville's animal caretaker and one of the most reclusive ponies in all of Equestria. However, she was one of the kindest and sweetest ponies anypony could come across. She sighed happily as she passed another slice of toast to her little bunny friends, but there was one thing on her mind. There was one thing that seemed to make her feel lightheaded. Although there was always something worrying her, but for the past month, there was something that had stuck into her subconscious and would never seem to go away. She knew what caused her anxiety, but she didn’t know why it did. Every time she thought of it, it made her weak in the knees. Pinkie Pie. That mare kept invading her thought at almost every opportunity. She couldn’t figure out how it could be. To her, there was no reason why simply thinking about the bouncy pink party pony caused such strange feelings.
She sighed in exasperation, still trying to solve her mystery. As she sipped on her cup of tea, she started to realize something. All these feelings she has been experiencing, she remembered somepony that has exhibited the exact same symptoms. Well, not somepony, somedragon. Spike the dragon, to be exact. All the symptoms that Fluttershy had whenever the pink earth pony entered her thoughts were the exact same symptoms Spike showed when talking or even thinking about Rarity, a unicorn the young purple dragon happened to have a crush on. Could that possibly be the reason? Being in love? No, it just couldn't be. She tried dismissing the possibility of love being an explanation as she took another sip of tea. However, as she thought about it more, it started to make more sense. All her worries seemed to go away whenever the two pink-maned ponies shared a hug. And Pinkie Pie was usually the first one that was able to cheer her up whenever she was feeling down. Maybe it truly was a crush. But that only gave the pegasus more stress. Yes, she may have solved one problem, but that now caused several more dilemmas. Two mares in a romantic relationship? It was possible, but mare-mare relationships were rare in Equestria. For that matter, would her friends accept that fact that she had a crush on a mare? Would Pinkie accept it? Just the thought of it troubled the pegasus even more. She stood up and suddenly walked away from the picnic, not saying a word to any of the critters as they stood there perplexed at what just happened.
Pinkie Pie had just finished spreading cheer around Ponyville, and was now making her way to Sugarcube Corner. She was jumping up and down, singing a random tune that she was making up on the stop. As she was bouncing, she was thinking about how happy she was. The mare was very lucky to have such wonderful friends. Twilight Sparkle, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Applejack, Fluttershy… Fluttershy had started to become one of Pinkie's favorite friends. While seeing her friends smiling made her jubilant, Fluttershy seemed to make her especially happy. It seemed that Fluttershy always found a way to make Pinkie's smile even bigger, and that she always seemed to make Pinkie feel funny in her tummy. It started to confuse her as to why exactly this happened, But she didn't dwell on it much longer as she had reached her destination, With a spring in her step, she pranced inside the doors.
Fluttershy was pacing the floor of her cottage with worry. Was she really falling head over hooves for Pinkie Pie? She tried to deny it, but it simply didn't work. She couldn't shove visions of her and the earth pony together out of her mind. Her face began to glow red as she kept the image strong in her head. Then another vision started to show itself to her. It was her being laughed at. She was being laughed at for being in love with another mare. The entire town was roaring with laughter, all their hooves pointed at the timid pegasus. Fluttershy shut her eyes as tight as she could, but teardrops managed to trickle out. As she slowly wiped them off with her hoof, she had made a decision. She needed to get it off her chest. She needed to tell Pinkie. She immediately set off for Sugarcube Corner. However, as she cantered, she slowly realized that telling Pinkie Pie how she feels might just be the scariest thing she has ever done. But Fluttershy simply shook her head. She had to be brave. She had to be strong today. This is something she needed to do.
The pink pony at Sugarcube Corner was rapping at the tables. Business was slow today, and Pinkie needed to do anything to keep moving. It seemed as if she feared that if she had to stay still for more than 5 seconds, she would explode. Her boredom was suddenly interrupted by a familiar ring. Somepony had to be at the door. She turned around with a smile to greet whoever was there. Pinkie's eyes widened, it was Fluttershy that decided to pay her a visit. But there was one detail about Fluttershy's appearance that troubled Pinkie. Her face. There was a look of sadness on her face instead of a look of happiness. This was something Pinkie couldn't bear to see. As her friend, it was her duty to make sure her feel as pleased as possible. She flashed another bright smile at her pegasus pal, who weakly smiled back. This made the pink pony more concerned. Something was troubling her friend, which made Pinkie more determined to cheer her up. She trotted over to a table and motioned with her hoof to come join her.
Fluttershy looked up at Pinkie, and tentatively walked over towards her. This was it. This was the perfect opportunity to tell her. She opened her mouth to speak, but Pinkie was already walking off towards the kitchen. She took the time to look around the building which Pinkie Pie called home. It was a very large, bright, and colorful place, the various scents of confections and sugary treats assaulted her nostrils with no sign of letting up. It was a very pleasant place to relax, but Fluttershy was not here to order a cake. Today, her purpose was to talk to a specific pink mare. As she waited for her return, however, thoughts of doubt once again entered her mind. Maybe it was a terrible idea to talk to her. Maybe she should just turn back and pretend nothing ever happened. She shook her head in an attempt to clear out the nasty thoughts. She just had to do it. She needed to be brave. It wouldn't get better unless she was brave and told her. …Told her what? That she has a crush on her? That just seems too forward. It frightened Fluttershy to imagine how Pinkie Pie might react. Would she be scared of her? Would she be angry? Would they never be friends again? As more negative scenarios presented themselves, they all seemed insignificant to one positive situation-That she would accept her. Or even better, return her feelings. It made Fluttershy feel warm inside to picture the rest of her life with Pinkie Pie. Her mood suddenly sunk as she realized how unlikely that situation is. Although that one possibility was enough for her to try anyway.
Soon after, Pinkie Pie returned, presenting Fluttershy with a large plate of cookies before placing it down on the table. She gave Fluttershy a quick grin before stuffing her mouth with several cookies. This was Fluttershy's opportunity. She cleared her throat to gain Pinkie's attention. Before she could talk, her heart started to beat faster, her knees began to buckle, and she broke into a cold sweat. More feelings of doubt infiltrated her brain. She tried pushing the words out of her mouth, but no sound came out. She tried again and again, but she was met with the same silence. Fluttershy began to feel more hopeless after each attempt. Pinkie looked at her friend uneasily. The pink pony moved in closer to ask what was wrong, but without warning, Fluttershy broke out in tears. The sudden breakdown caught Pinkie off-guard, and soon, without thinking, wrapped her arms around the weeping pegasus. Fluttershy pushed Pinkie away, running out the door, her flowing pink mane covering her teary eyes. Pinkie tried pursuing her, but she was already too far away to chase. Pinkie turned around and somberly walked back inside Sugarcube Corner.
Pinkie lay still in her room upstairs in deep thought. She wondered what had just happened earlier. Was it something that she had said? Was it something she had done? Why would Fluttershy act so strangely? It was obvious that something had to be bothering her friend, but what? She was acting incredibly nervous, and it seemed as though the closer she was to her, the more nervous Fluttershy got. Was Fluttershy scared of her? No, it couldn't be that. Fluttershy was one of her bestest friends ever. It wouldn't make sense for her to be scared of her. What else could make a pony nervous around somepony else? Spike used to get really nervous around Rarity, but Spike has a crush on Rarity. Was it possible that Fluttershy had a crush on her? It was a silly notion, but it did make sense. What if Fluttershy really did have special feelings for the party pony? And was it also possible that those feelings were also returned? She thought about it, how every smile she got from the pegasus made her feel fuzzy inside, how hearing her gentle soothing voice made any troubles seem to magically disappear, and how Fluttershy always seemed to make her heart beat just a little bit faster. It started to embarrass her that she didn't see the signs before, but she needed to do something about it right away. Without a second thought, she made her way towards the outskirts of Ponyville, all the way to a small secluded cottage.
Fluttershy lay face-down on her bed. A seemingly endless stream of tears flowed down her eyes. She tried. She tried so very hard to be brave, to be strong, but she failed. With each passing second she hated herself more. Her animal friends tried to comfort her, but to no avail. Thoughts of hatred and worthlessness now clouded her thoughts. She felt stupid. How could she have been so foolish as to thinking she could be brave? She couldn't be brave, she was just a worthless pegasus.
A sharp series of knocks on the door made Fluttershy lift up her head from her tear-stained pillow, but she just fell back down and continued with her misery. Another loud sequence of knocks caught the melancholy mare's attention, but she ignored it once again. She wanted to lay down and become the insignificant mare she thought she was. Another knock, this time it appeared as though whoever it was was now pounding on her door. She sighed and slowly rolled off her bed. She decided to see who was constantly banging at her cottage enterance. Sniveling, she wiped the tears from her eyes and half-heartedly opened the door.
A worried pink mare stood at her door. In her mouth was a single fresh crimson rose. Fluttershy blinked. Surely this was some sort of dream, maybe a mirage or hallucination. She gingerly put a hoof out to make contact with the mare in front of her. It didn't seem like a dream. Pinkie stepped towards her, and the timid pegasus shrank back against the wall. Fluttershy felt a soft hoof press against her mouth. She looked up and saw Pinkie smiling, the rose still held firm in her mouth. She moved forward and tucked it behind the pegasus's ear. Fluttershy began to tear up. She had never felt more joy in her entire life. All because of the unspoken message Pinkie had given her. Without hesitation, Fluttershy found her hooves slowly wrapped around Pinkie Pie. The usually talkative pony stayed silent, wrapping her hooves around the pegasus she now held very dear, and yet she wouldn’t have it any other way.
In all fairness, it was a very sturdy door. Well built. Everything in Sweet Apple Acres was well built. The Apple family had cut every board and hammered every nail, and they accepted no less from themselves than the best. This door would stand up to any weather the pegasi could throw at it, along with the rest of the building it was attached to.
Sitting there and extolling the virtues of a door, Fluttershy was uncomfortably aware that she was stalling for time.
She’d made it this far before she froze up, at least. So that was something. But it was all pointless if she didn’t force her hovering hoof to knock. She could do this. She could. She would...
Her hoof lowered. Okay, maybe she would go over her lines one more time first.
Hello, Applejack. I know this may seem kind of sudden, but I’ve liked you for a very long time. I just wanted to ask, maybe, if you aren’t seeing anypony already, although you probably are, and if you could ever be interested in a mare like me, although you probably couldn’t—
Fluttershy shook her head. No, no, no, that wouldn’t do at all. She had to be confident! Or, failing that, pretend to be for just long enough to get the words out.
Hello, Applejack. Would you like to go out on a date some time? With me, that is? I have a little picnic lunch back at my cottage if you’re ready now—not that I’m trying to rush you or anything! I just thought that maybe—
She sighed. That had been a little better, right up until the end. Maybe she should try to keep it simple. One more try, and then—
“Howdy, Fluttershy!”
Fluttershy went stiff, heart leaping into her throat. She’d been so deep in thought that she hadn’t even heard Apple Bloom walk up to her side. She swallowed and turned toward the little filly with a faint smile. “Hello there, Apple Bloom. Is school out already?”
Apple Bloom nodded eagerly. “Sure is! Me an’ the girls are gonna go meet at the clubhouse!” She frowned and leaned in closer. “So is somethin’ wrong with the door? You been starin’ at it an awful long time!”
Maybe if she ignored the blush rising in her cheeks, no one else would notice it. Fluttershy shook her head. “Oh, no, the door is fine. I was... just about to knock and see if your big sister is home.”
“Oh, okay!” Without warning, Apple Bloom kicked the door open and burst into the barn. “HEY, SIS! FLUTTERSHY’S HERE!”
“N—” Fluttershy was too late to stop her, of course. She panicked internally as she listened to the hoofsteps inside coming closer. She had to figure out what to say before Applejack arrived...
But in the next moment, there she was, smile as wide as a mile. “Well, hey there, Fluttershy! What brings you by?”
Fluttershy squeaked, all her rehearsed words rushing away from her like water flowing downstream. “Um, hello, Applejack... I was just... I was...” Say something. Anything! “Would—Would you like to picnic?”
“Picnic?” Applejack tilted her head, eyebrows lifted curiously.
“Oh, um, yes,” Fluttershy whispered. “I made enough food for two, and I-I thought that... that maybe you might like to join me. If you’re not busy. Oh, but you probably are busy... You work so hard, this is probably a bad time, I’m sorry, I just—”
“Whoa, whoa, slow down there, sugarcube,” Applejack chuckled, lifting a hoof to gently cut the pegasus off. “We’re actually a mite ahead a’ schedule today, so I think I can sneak out for a tick. I’d be more ‘n happy to join ya!”
Fluttershy gasped happily, rising up from the crouch she’d begun to droop into. “Really? Oh, thank you!” She’d said yes, she’d really said yes... To a simple picnic, not a date, Fluttershy belatedly realized. Still, it was better than going back and eating alone.
“Sure thing! Lemme just, uh...” AJ turned to her side and shouted, making Fluttershy jump. “HEY, BIG MACINTOSH!”
A second later, a response floated back from the other side of the building. “...YEAH, AJ?”
“I’M GOIN’ OUT WITH FLUTTERSHY! CAN YA HOLD DOWN TH’ FORT?”
His next response took a few seconds longer. “...EEYUP! Y’ALL HAVE FUN!”
Applejack turned back to Fluttershy and beamed. “All clear!”
Fluttershy smiled weakly. Even if Applejack hadn’t meant it in the way it sounded, that had still been nice to hear. “Oh, good. Um, it’s right this way...”
“I’m right behind ya, sugar,” Applejack assured her, trotting along as Fluttershy led the way.
The two ponies made their way toward Fluttershy’s cottage in companionable silence. As they drew closer to the blanket that was laid out in the grass, Applejack broke the silence with a sniff and a wide smile. “Land sakes, somethin’ smells deeee-licious!”
“Oh, thank you,” Fluttershy replied, blushing demurely. “I-It’s nothing much, but I hope you’ll enjoy it.”
“Can’t imagine I won’t. Real sweet of ya to invite me!”
“Of—Of course.” You’re important to me, Applejack. Fluttershy opened her mouth to speak, but her chest tightened up, and the words were lost.
Applejack settled in on the blanket, and Fluttershy nosed the basket open to begin serving her. She pulled out a plate of cucumber sandwiches, a large bowl of salad, a bouquet of daisies, a plate of hay fries, a pack of juiceboxes...
A whistle distracted her, and she glanced over at her companion. “I thought you said you made enough for two, not twenty!” Applejack chuckled. “Y’sure you don’t wanna invite anypony else too? We could get the whole gang together!”
Fluttershy cringed. “Well, uh, we could, but...” I just want to be with you right now. Why couldn’t she just say it? But what if she did, and Applejack took it the wrong way? Or took it the right way and didn’t feel the same?
When she managed to peek back at Applejack, though, the mare was smiling sympathetically. “Not in the mood for a crowd today, huh? I reckon I know the feelin’. Just the two of us, then.”
Fluttershy nodded meekly. “Thank you. Please, have... whatever you like.”
“I will, thank ya kindly!” Applejack pulled the plate of hay fries over to herself, breathing in the scent. “Ahhh, these’re what I smelled, sure as can be. I’ll start in here.”
Fluttershy smiled and picked up a sandwich for herself. Applejack and Pinkie Pie were the real cooks of the group, but she knew she could at least handle a picnic lunch.
The silence returned as the mares began to eat. It was a comfortable silence between two close friends, but Fluttershy couldn’t help the apprehension that began to slip back in. Applejack still didn’t know the real reason she’d come to the farm. Maybe it was a bad idea. Maybe she should just be satisfied with their friendship... But she’d come this far. Could she ever forgive herself if she gave up now?
“Pretty quiet, huh?” Again, Applejack was the one to break the silence. She glanced around curiously. “Usually you got all manner of critters runnin’ around out here. Nothing’s wrong with ‘em, right?”
“Oh, no!” Setting aside her internal debate, Fluttershy hastened to reassure her friend. “It’s nothing like that. They’re just all inside at the moment.” At her request, so that there would be no interruptions. Angel had grudgingly agreed, and the rest of her little friends had been happy to oblige. In fact, she blushed to recall, a few of them were even cheering her on.
Applejack smiled. “Glad to hear it! I know how much you care about those little guys.”
“Of course you do!” Fluttershy giggled. “You... care about your trees just as much, don’t you?”
“Haha, guilty as charged, sugarcube,” Applejack laughed. “Oh, did I tell ya? We got a coupla new saplings planted just the other day!”
Fluttershy shook her head and leaned closer, listening intently as Applejack spun a story about her family and her beloved trees. It was clear how much the Sweet Apple Acres meant to her, how much she cared for every last tree on their land, however young or old. It almost made Fluttershy wish she could be one of those trees, to be cared for so tenderly...
And to be kicked, occasionally. Alright, so nothing was perfect.
It wasn’t too long before the story wound down. It hadn’t been anything life-changing, just a silly tale about the misadventures three siblings could get into on a farm, but Applejack could have made any story seem enthralling. She was filled with a life and energy that Fluttershy loved and envied.
I could listen to you tell stories all day. That was a safe little compliment, wasn’t it? Baby steps, right? Fluttershy breathed unsteadily, trying to work up the nerve to say it. “I...” she whispered, barely even able to hear herself. “I...”
“Shucks, I been talkin’ your ear off, haven’t I?” Applejack suddenly said. “How’re things here? Between that bunny of yours and all the other animals you take in, I reckon you gotta have a whopper of a story to tell.”
“Oh... No, it’s alright,” Fluttershy mumbled, silently cursing herself. “There really... isn’t much to say.” Coward.
“Ah, now, come on. There must be somethin’ you haven’t told me already, right?” Applejack’s tone was gently chiding, but far from unfriendly. She genuinely cared, genuinely wanted to hear about Fluttershy’s life.
Yes, there is something I haven’t told you. I like you. I love you. You’ve always supported me, always made me feel wanted, even when I was at my worst. Even if you don’t feel the same way, at least I should tell you how much you mean to me...
She couldn’t do it. She just kept picturing Applejack’s beautiful face scrunching up in disgust, or frowning in sad sympathy, and her voice just wouldn’t work. She’d come this far, and she just couldn’t go on. She was a coward, a failure.
Her eyes felt hot, and by the time she realized they were tearing up, it was too late to turn away. Applejack had seen. “Fluttershy...” she gasped, reaching out with one hoof. “What’s the matter? Is it somethin’ I said?”
Fluttershy gasped. She couldn’t bear to let Applejack think any of this was her fault. “No! It’s not—I just—I’m sorry, it’s stupid, it’s nothing—”
“Fluttershy.” Applejack frowned at her, shaking her head. “It ain’t nothing. Even I can see that.”
She was messing everything up now, wasn’t she? First she’d failed to make it a date, now she’d ruined even the picnic. She shook her head, just wishing to end the conversation quickly. “No, really—I-I can’t... Y-You shouldn’t—shouldn’t worry about it.”
Applejack didn’t budge. “Now you knowthat ain’t happenin’. Whatever it is, if you’re this worked up over it, it’s gotta be important. An’ if it’s important to you, that makes it important to me.” Her gaze was searching, full of concern. “So talk to me. Please?”
“I can’t!” Fluttershy wailed. “I want to tell you... I-I want to, so much, but the words, they... they just won’t come.” She ducked her head, feeling the tears flow. Stupid, stupid...
She felt a hoof under her chin, gently tilting her head back up until Applejack’s eyes could meet hers again. “It’s alright, sugarcube,” she said soothingly. “I ain’t gonna rush you, so just take your time. Whatever you got to say, I promise I’ll listen. An’ you know whatever you got to say, I’d never judge you for it.”
Fluttershy was transfixed, staring into those gorgeous green eyes. This was what had drawn her to Applejack, this was why she’d fallen for her in the first place.
You’re so strong... and even more than that, you make me feel like...
“...like I...” she breathed, leaning forward, “...can be strong too.”
And just like that, their lips met. Fluttershy held the kiss for a few glorious seconds before backing away again. She could feel the heat in her cheeks like an inferno, but she stood firm. Even if Applejack rejected her, at least she would have that perfect moment.
Applejack stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. Her freckled cheeks were reddening, and a hoof was frozen halfway to her mouth. “...Oh. I... Fluttershy, I—” She mouthed silently for a few seconds, then shoved her hat down to hide her eyes. “Aw, geez, look at me. Y’got me trippin’ over my tongue like I’m a jackrabbit with two left feet!”
Even through the haze of fear and the butterflies filling her stomach, Fluttershy managed a short giggle at that mental image. But Applejack’s response... She couldn’t tell if it was positive, or if...
After a silent moment that seemed to stretch out to the horizon, Applejack tilted her hat back and looked up at Fluttershy again. She was still blushing deeply, and her expression was unreadable. “So... that... was what you were wantin’ to tell me, huh?”
Fluttershy swallowed, but she refused to look away. She’d come this far. She wouldn’t falter now. “Yes,” she whispered. “I... For a long time, I’ve...” Her gaze stayed locked with Applejack’s, but she just couldn’t force that next word out.
“Don’t fret, Fluttershy,” Applejack said, beginning to smile. “I think I understand now. I reckon sometimes... words ain’t what you need after all, huh?”
She was smiling... Hope blossomed in Fluttershy’s chest. “Maybe so,” she whispered.
Applejack took a step forward, her smile growing mysterious, her voice growing husky. “An’ on that note... It seems like I owe you an answer, don’t I?”
That slow smile made Fluttershy feel all shivery, but in an exciting way. “Oh! I-If you want...”
Applejack nodded, eyes lidded and almost sparkling. “Oh, I very much do.”
She leaned in close, and Fluttershy met her halfway.
A few hours later, the sun was beginning to set. The couple had moved to the shade of a nearby tree, nestled close together, side by side. As the air had cooled, Fluttershy had even managed to work up enough courage to drape one wing over Applejack, who had blushed a little and smiled a lot at the gesture.
I love you. I’ve loved you for so long, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop. You make me feel like I can do almost anything, as long as we’re together. I want to share my life with you, the ups and the downs, the good and the bad...
With time, Fluttershy promised herself, she’d find the strength to say all the words bustling around in her head. But for now...
Applejack pressed a soft kiss to Fluttershy’s cheek, and she felt a giggle bubble up inside her. She brought her nose around to nuzzle Applejack’s cheek in turn; her hat was pushed slightly off-center by the motion, and Fluttershy was rewarded with a warm little laugh.
But for now... words really weren’t needed, after all.
Spike, a baby dragon of purple scales and green spines, looked around the small corner strewn with hay. An iron birdcage, small door swung ajar, hung above the messy area by the arm of a small brass stand. The occupant of this corner of the library, Peewee, a baby Phoenix owned by our very own Spike, was nowhere to be found.
Setting aside the plate of birdseed he'd been carrying, Spike sighed, confusion furrowing his brow. He looked behind him, where an owl watched him from afar.
"You seen Peewee?" he asked it.
The bird took a moment, sitting still as stone on its perch. "Who?" it cooed wryly.
"Figured as much," Spike muttered, turning back to stare at the empty birdcage. He looked up at the top of the bookshelves. Aside from cobwebs and a few spare scrolls, the space was unoccupied. "Hey, Peewee! Where are you? I've got you some grub!"
Spike heard a small peep. It was faint, but he could just pick out where it had come from. With a weary glance at the still-glaring owl, he climbed the stairs leading up to the loft that served as his and Twilight's bedroom.
"Peewee?"
Sure enough, another soft squeak led him to the foot of Twilight's bed. Kneeling, he spotted the orange hatchling hiding in the shadows, yellow eyes gleaming like embers.
"Hey, what're doing hiding under there, buddy?" Spike reached under the bed and pulled out his friend. "Y'hungry?" The little tyke gave an affirmative coo. Spike smiled and brought him back down to the ground floor. Once there, he set his companion and the birdseed he'd been carrying earlier on the rug. The bird blinked before nibbling vigorously at his delayed meal.
An ominous creaking spread around the living wood around them. A blow stuck the library door, causing a loud knock to ring out once, twice, thrice. Aware of his custodial obligations in the absence of the main librarian, Spike dutifully went to answer the knock. As the door swung upon, the frame of a queer creature came into view.
"Are you Spike Twilightkin?" The creature, cloaked in dark blue cloth, stood erect on two legs left uncovered. From a large hood protruded its long, thin, reptilian snout. Its scales were a pale blue-violet, and Spike saw two blue eyes burning somewhere in the shadows deep within that hood. It possessed a domineering stature, standing at least three heads higher than most the ponies he knew. Its posture was relaxed, but the straightness with which the stranger stood contained an uncanny, unnerving quality.
"Er, yes? Most everyone just calls me Spike, though."
The stranger pulled back its hood, revealing a feminine, smiling face. Yellow spines curved out of her head and neck. "I have come to offer you something. I've come to give you the chance to obtain what you've sought for so long." She took a moment to pause. In the interval, she reached out a talon to Owlowisius, who pecked at it curiously. "I am here to offer you knowledge, the knowledge of your past, and maybe, just maybe, some of your future."
Spike just stood there, looking at the visitor. Worry pursed his lips.
"What do you mean? I—" Spike went silent. "I mean, it's not like I don't want to know, just, I don't understand what it is you're trying to tell me."
The visitor knelt down, placing her hand lightly on his shoulder. With a slight breath, she exhaled a thin, yellow flame. From within the flame came an envelope, burning in reverse. She held it with her other hand, waiting for the flames to finish eating back the edges. Once it was whole, she handed him the envelope. In red ink on the yellowing parchment was inscribed Spike.
"I am just the messenger. Now, I've overstayed my welcome. It is time for me to go. Do consider our offer carefully, Spike Twilightkin." With that, she departed. Spike was left standing there, holding the letter which bore his name and staring out of the open door.
"Wha—?"
"Spike, I'm back!" called Twilight Sparkle, a purple unicorn and the resident librarian. "Spike?" The little dragon was sitting in a corner, staring into space, a piece of paper clutched in his hands. "Hey, what's wrong?"
As if only now aware of her presence, he shook his head and stood, walking over and hugging the nape of her neck. "I don't know what to do, Twilight! I don't want to leave. I don't want to go away…" The dragon fell back to the floor, the glimmer of fresh tears twinkling on his cheeks.
"Leave? What do you mean?" Alarmed, Twilight waited for the young dragon to respond.
"Here," said Spike, showing her the paper he'd been clutching. It was a letter. Twilight took a breath, taking the letter with her magic aura and beginning to read through it.
She didn't say anything. She stood there, immobile, soaking in the words neatly written on the page before her. Finally, flicking her tail, she looked intently at her assistant. The one she'd hatched while still a foal. The one she'd had for all her time in Ponyville, and the one who feared no longer being useful to her more than anything else. She placed a hoof on his head and searched for answers in his eyes.
"It'll only be a month or two. Isn't this what you've dreamed? Isn't this your chance?"
"I guess…" he said, glancing down at her hooves.
The truth was, he didn't really know what he wanted. And he was afraid, oh so afraid. The world seemed turned on its head
"All aboard! All aboard!"
Spike clutched Peewee's cage and a small suitcase of his own measly possessions. The terminal felt cold and exposed that night. One of the draft stallions at the head of the train gave him a nasty look, which did nothing to allay his fear and anxiety. He boarded the train quickly, noting its apparent emptiness. Behind him stood his friends, some smiling and others waving. He sighed and turned back around as the train jolted to a slow start. After a few moments, the train gained speed. After a few moments, Ponyville became a speck on the horizon. After a few moments, Spike already felt homesick.
A nudge from behind gave him a start.
"Hey, are you making the pilgrimage too?" said a voice behind him. Spike turned to face an auburn stallion wearing a similar cloak to the one he'd seen on the female dragon he'd met earlier.
"I suppose. This is all a little new to me, to tell you the truth." Spike walked to a seat and crawled up on it. "I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing." The cabin's oil lamp swung idly to the rhythm of train’s motion, illumination rocking from one side to the other. The sky outside showed all the stars and all the ether binding them together as crisp as any painting he'd ever seen.
"Neither are any of us. Try to rest. Our trip is a long one, and it will be early morning before we disembark."
Spike took this advice readily, and soon after he'd closed his eyes, the world was void and dark.
Flute!
His companion obeyed the command immediately, emanating from its body a massive blast of energy. Heat and light blazed in golden ball across the greenery, now leveled by the phoenix's unbridled power. Spike smiled up at his friend. The bird dove back down to return to its master's forearm. The dragon patted his friend's head, and the phoenix nipped playfully at his talons.
They had been at this all morning. Spike's larger, more muscled body was on the verge of collapse from exhaustion. He was a stout creature, twice the height of a mare and thrice their width. Peewee now displayed a regal, sleek coat of red, orange, and yellow feathers. The sun glinted sharply in his yellow eyes.
The two made their way down the scorched path. They stumbled over rubble, stepped over charred brambles, and limped across steamy gorges where once there were running streams. This was progress. They were making their way across the Dauthsfall to the lands beyond, in order to lay a railroad connecting kingdom to kingdom. Knowledge and prosperity would follow.
Flute!
Spike cringed at the gurgling screams that ensued as souls were plucked from their bodies. Even through the shouts of berserkers butchering their way down the line of brutes and beasts, he could hear the agony, the terror, the fear.
However, he was not left to contemplate this for long. The sun was high in the sky and the blood still fresh. There would always be a time later to mourn.
He hefted his great-sword as a band of enemies rushed closer. Bellowing a mighty war-cry, he charged.
The brutes were shred asunder.
Wilt and Wisp!
The air screeched in rage as Peewee dove, pivoting at impossible speeds. Flames erupted around the phoenix and circled it like a spinning top. Fire met ice. Clouds of steam rolled off the glacier, but the Istdrao he'd been aiming for was unscathed, having dodged the attack at the very last moment. Spike scowled. His left eye sported a long, thin scar and the pale white of sightlessness. He was a dominating figure, but the Istdrao he was facing was twice his size and in most likelihood contained five-fold his own power.
Summoning an icy spear, the creature rushed across the water, leaving in his wake a path of frozen sea.
Shades!
Peewee swooped down from his perch high above Spike, sending trails of embers behind him. The two collided, sending out a ring of fire the set alight the field they'd been standing in.
Spike blinked away the spots in his vision. As his head cleared, he saw before him their destination. Ponyville, he thought. He was home. Stifling a sniffle, the dragon strode down the main street of Ponyville, Peewee perched on his shoulder.
It was eventide, so most of the town's populace had locked themselves away for a restful night of sleep. Lamps still glowed in one residence, however. The old, hollowed willow that served as the town's library still had the faint flicker of a candle winking at its windows.
He sprinted to the door, memories clouding his mind.
Twilight! he shouted, swinging open the door.
Something wasn't right. Something had gone wrong. This wasn't supposed to happen. He fell to his knees while his companion flew into the library, blue aura streaming around him. Spike was pushed back by a blast of power and sound. A high pitched yowl signaled the deed had been done. Peewee shot through the branches of the hollowed willow, which were all now alight in green, blue, and orange flame. The graying clouds above rumbled before screeching in white and blue lightening.
Choose your words carefully,
An explosion shook the ground as thunder sounded and lightning bore down upon the library.
For you may never, for all your life,
Tears streamed down Spike's cheeks.
Utter them outside these halls
He bent over, grasping at the grass. Ponies awakened by the commotion were now coming out of their homes to see what had happened.
Or when you are not in the face of the Enemy
He could feel their accusing stares.
For this is a great power not to be misused,
Given to you.
"Hey, buddy," whispered the stallion. "You can get up now. The train ride's over."
Spike stirred from his slumber, rubbing his eyes and blinking. "Hrm?"
"Ya, time for us to go." Outside it was still dark, and the stars were still winking in their way. The moon shown through the windows like a stream.
Spike cleared his head with a slight shake and crawled off the cot he'd been sleeping on. Grabbing up his things, he followed the still-cloaked stallion out the open door, into the chilly northern night air.
Applejack felt heat rise to her cheeks as she stared into Rarity’s eyes. Those royal blue pools always had a mesmerizing effect on her. They were so goldarn pretty, she–
“What?” Rarity asked, looking at Applejack. “Oh, there’s something on my face, isn’t there?” She levitated a kerchief up to her cheeks and began to rub her fur.
“Oh, no,” the other mare stammered. “There ain’t nothin’. I was just, ah, thinkin’ bout… farm stuff.”
With a chuckle, Rarity lowered the kerchief. “You’re so single-minded, Applejack. Shouldn’t you be relaxing? That’s what this party is about, after all.”
Applejack nodded, still flushed. The party was a small one – well, small for Pinkie Pie – and so far had lasted several hours into the night. There was plenty to eat, as always, and the weather was nice enough to permit it being outside.
Rarity giggled again, taking a sip of cider. As happened often, the musical chime of the giggle made Applejack’s heart skip a beat. Her heart always felt strange and heavy around the beautiful mare, except during moments like that.
The moment shattered when Rarity paused in her sip, looking up at the clock tower. “Oh, dear. I must be heading home.”
Applejack followed her gaze. The clock read half-past eleven. “Dreadful late,” she said. Then, almost of its own accord, her mouth kept moving. “Would ya mind terrible if I walked ya home?”
Another lovely giggle. “I wouldn’t mind at all!”
Taking in a deep breath, Applejack walked her friend home through the chilly night.
Their hooves beat a steady rhythm in the silent streets of Ponyville. They didn’t speak to each other; they just enjoyed each other’s company. Several times Applejack opened her mouth only to close it again. What could she possibly say to her? What words could possibly hold any interest to somepony like Rarity?
Finally, they reached the Carousel Boutique, and Applejack breathed a sigh of relief. She loved Rarity, and liked being around her. It was just that weight she felt around the other mare was unbearable at times.
Rarity fumbled around at the door a few moments, and opened it with an embarrassed glance back.
AJ doffed her hat with a smile. “G’night, Rarity. Always swell to see ya.”
The other mare was already through the door when she said that, so Rarity paused and turned around. “Yes, good to see you too, Applejack.” Her tail swayed a little in the breeze. “I…” She broke off, looking to her side. “I did not leave a window open.”
She trotted off in the direction she was looking. Curiosity swelled in AJ and she replaced her hat and entered the Carousel Boutique, following Rarity.
The room she stopped in looked to be in order – mannequins to one side, rolls of fabric on the other. The only thing that seemed out of place was the overturned table. Well, that and the shards of glass sprinkled around one of the large windows.
“My crystal!” Rarity cried, jumping to the table. A glass case lay shattered by the table.
A brief memory rose to the front of AJ’s mind: her and her friends receiving a special crystal from the crystal ponies as a thank-you for saving them from King Somber, or Sombra, or whoever Twi said it was that threatened ’em. Rarity had especially treasured hers, calling it her future. She’d put it in that special case even.
And now it was gone.
AJ laid an apologetic hoof on Rarity’s shoulder. “I’m awful sorry, Rarity.”
She looked up, deep blue eyes blazing with anger. “Who could have done such an awful thing?”
AJ trotted over to the broken window, leaning out carefully. There had been some rain earlier that day, so the ground was still wet. Squinting she could make out the faint impressions of a paw. With a hmph, she turned away from the window.
“Looks like a diamond dog, sugarcube.”
“A diamond dog!” The shriek of indignation stung AJ’s ears. She stomped over and leaned out the window, looking at the ground for a moment. She popped back in with a sheepish grin. “I don’t see anything.”
“That’s on account you ain’t been around dogs that much, Rarity. Now look, it’s obvious you’re a mite upset.” At Rarity’s look of indignation, she continued. “Maybe more than a mite. If it makes ya feel any better, I can bring Winona out in the mornin’ and we can go off and look fer the diamond dog what stole yer crystal, alright?”
Rarity sighed, looking down. “I suppose. It’s just…” She looked back up, lovely eyes welling up with tears. “What if that awful creature comes back?”
AJ froze in terror. She hadn’t thought of that. What if Rarity were to be put in danger? She needed somepony there with her, right?
“Yer right, actually,” she said automatically. “I’ll jes’ set myself on th’ couch and you can go on and sleep. I’ll take care’a ya.” She smiled.
Rarity nodded, that stricken face dissolving into one of happiness. “That’d be marvelous, Applejack! Stay there and I’ll fetch you some blankets.”
Crisis forgotten, Rarity practically skipped out of the room. AJ took in a deep breath, surprised at herself. She hadn’t expected to be able to suggest something like that.
Blinking suddenly weary eyes, she left the room, heading for the den. Once there, she collapsed on the couch and was asleep by the time Rarity returned with the blankets.
A happy “Woof!” and hot, wet lapping at her face woke AJ. Squinting, she saw Winona’s snout barely an inch from her own.
“What in the hay are you doin’ here?” she asked. Another happy, dumb “Woof!” was her response.
“Oh, I sent for Big Macintosh to bring her while you were still asleep.” Rarity popped her head over the back of the couch with a smile. “Now hurry up, we’ve got to get going.”
“No breakfast?” Applejack asked, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
Rarity paused. “Oh, well. I suppose we should eat. Ah, we will be out for a while.”
AJ rolled off the couch, Winona hopping down alongside her. Hat askew, she followed Rarity into the kitchen.
“I think I have some wheat biscuits left over, somewhere.” Rarity dug through a cupboard, finally pulling out a bag with a few brown, plump biscuits.
Applejack took one, and began to eat. Rarity did as well, taking cute, dainty nibbles. They ate in silence and when they were done, Rarity slipped the bag of biscuits into her saddlebag. “For later,” she explained, and Applejack nodded.
The sun shone through the low morning clouds, bathing the world in a murky grey light.
AJ led Winona around the building to where the diamond dog print was. She sniffed the ground, and began loping off in one direction. Applejack and Rarity exchanged determined glances before following.
Winona would pause occasionally to sniff or bark at something that caught her attention, but AJ was able to prod her back onto the trail of the diamond dog. The weather was nice though, once the sun came out from its hiding place behind the clouds. A slight breeze blew, cooling the ponies from the sun’s heat.
The sun was slowly beginning its descent when Winona slowed in her pace. They were in a grey, rocky field. Few plants grew there, the only ones being scraggly brown weeds.
Rarity paused. “This place looks dreadfully familiar.”
The ground swelled, and a blue-furred, lanky creature popped out. His back was to them as he sniffed the air. The animal was clad in a red vest, tattered and dirty. He turned, and slapped a paw to his forehead.
“Ohhhh no,” he said in a wheedly voice. Raising its paws in a plaintive gesture, he began to back up. “No, Mees Rari-tee. Pleese. No whining.”
“You!” Rarity’s voice was a sharp bark. “You stole my crystal, didn’t you!”
The diamond dog froze, panic in his green eyes. “What crystal?” His eyes darted back and forth.
“Don’t lie,” AJ said, walking up to the dog and placing a hoof on his shoulder. “Tell her the truth.”
“Uh… Maybe we stole it. Hard to say,” he added with a shrug. “Steal many many gems.”
AJ leaned in with a dark expression.
“Okay okay,” the diamond dog said, shrinking back. “Rover stole the gem. You understand Mees Rari-tee! Rover needs gems very very bad. Rover’s family so hungry.” He fell to his knees. “Rover wanted to help family.”
Rarity stared at him. Her eyes began to water. “No, no, Mees- er, I mean, I understand perfectly. Really I do.”
AJ frowned. The dog’s story sounded like a bunch’a horseapples to her. But maybe he was telling the truth. It was hard to tell – she may have been the Element of Honesty but it wasn’t like she could tell if somepony was being honest to her or not all the time.
“Look,” Rarity said softly. “Just keep the crystal. You need it more than I.” She giggled, that musical, beautiful giggle that always made AJ’s heart soar. “I was just going to keep it on a shelf and look at it occasionally!”
“What?” the dog asked. “You give Rover gem, just like that?” He frowned quizzically. “Mees Rari-tee, you are strange strange pony.”
Another of those heart-breaking giggles. “Just go on. ‘Mees Rari-tee’ wants you to have it.” She looked at AJ, her long eyelashes fluttering. “Isn’t that right, dear?”
“Uh…” AJ’s heart beat fast, trying to figure out what her… friend wanted of her. “Uh, sure is, sugarcube. Good ol’ Miss Rarity. Always thinkin’a others over herself.”
Rover flicked his eyes between the two mares. “You no trick Rover?”
“We no trick Rover,” Rarity agreed.
The dog smiled sadly. “Then Rover thank you. You help hees family. Thank you.”
Applejack leaned in close to the diamond dog again. “Y’know, ya didn’t need to break in and steal that gem. I’m sure if’n ya asked, she woulda given it to ya.”
Rover looked down, kicking the dirt at his feet. “Sorree,” he muttered. Then he pulled his head up with a twinkle in his eye. “Know what to do to repay Mees Rari-tee.” He grabbed his vest and began to pull it upward.
Rarity waved her hooves in panic. “Oh, heavens no! Please don’t-”
It was too late. The diamond dog was now naked, holding out his tattered red vest to Rarity. She enveloped it in a royal blue magic aura, and it drifted over to her.
“Ah, yes,” she stammered. “Er, I’ll treasure it. Forever.” She forced a smile.
Winona barked at her larger sibling. Rover bent down to look at her. “You keep Mees Rari-tee safe,” he said, scratching her behind the ears. Winona panted happily, looking back at AJ with a smug-looking expression.
The diamond dog leapt back into his burrow, legs kicking at the air comically as if he were trying to swim through the dirt. After a few abortive kicks, he finally disappeared into the ground.
AJ stared after him a moment before turning to Rarity. “Mighty generous’a ya, Rarity.”
She just smiled, making her even more beautiful. “Yes, I am, aren’t I?” She turned and began to trot off. “Come along now, let’s go home.”
The return trip was just as pleasant as the trip to the diamond dog encampment. They could hear birds singing love songs as they flitted about. The sun was sinking low when Rarity called for a stop.
They had reached a lovely little meadow, the tall grass blowing in the wind. It was at the top of a hill, allowing them a perfect view of the sunset. Below the horizon was the town of Ponyville, lights twinkling in the distance.
“What’s up, Rarity?” Applejack asked, slowing to her side.
“Oh, nothing,” she said quietly. “I just wanted to stop and enjoy the sunset.”
She sat down, and AJ followed suit. Winona padded over and laid her head on Applejack’s legs.
The final rays of the sun blossomed, turning the clouds lovely shades of pink. The pink fingers caressed the dark blue sky.
“It sure is pretty,” AJ said.
“Yes it is.” Rarity leaned over, placing her head on AJ’s shoulder.
Applejack’s eyes widened and she reflexively shrugged Rarity away.
Rarity toppled over with a grunt. “Oh,” she said as she picked herself up. “I’m sorry, Applejack. I didn’t-”
“Oh, no,” Applejack interrupted. “I jus’ wasn’t expectin’ you to uh…” She pushed her hat down to hide her bright red cheeks. “Uh, what I’m tryin’ to say is, uh…”
Rarity giggled. “No, no, it’s entirely my fault, I, er…” She looked away. “Oh, I knew you didn’t feel that way.”
“No, sugarcube, I…” Applejack made a strangled sound. Her guts had twisted in a tight knot and stuck in her throat.
Rarity got back up and put her hoof under AJ’s front leg. “You know what, Applejack? Just hush and enjoy the sunset.”
We are the thunderheads gathering over Los Pegasus. We are the silent caverns under Canterlot. We are the chatter and cant of squirrels in the trees around a forgotten meadow.
We have spent an eternity dead. We have waited for them and they are our joy.
By night the moon gilds our foliage. By day the sun blesses us with her heat. Our waters rise as mist over our forests; our skies boil and bear our clouds. Our rain falls and carves our face. Our currents churn at the roots of our mountains.
We are trembling earth, cracking stone, gouts of fire, thunder's flash.
We are terrible. We are beautiful. We are cruel. We are kind. We are all things as they have called us, and without them we are what we are and nothing more.
We are the salt of the sea. We thirst for life. We are all things that creep and overgrow. We are sweet fruit and stout lumber. We are flesh and breath. We bask in the light and drink our rain and sway in our wind and let our uncountable children fall from our branches. We run and stalk and wait and hunt and play and live and kill and die. We lend our blood to our creatures, to our selves. When we can use it no more, we return it to our earth.
We drift and flit through our sky. We are the cotton seed. We are the fireflies. We are the icy rainbow halo around the sun. We are updraft and shade and storm. We are wind and blizzard. We fill sails and lift hearts. We wear mountains down to dust. We are the aurorae. We are zephyrs and we are hurricanes.
We are undiscovered fortunes. We are power and patterns, ritual and rite. We are the stars and moon and sun. We are seasons and eons and ages. We are the aether and dragons' fire. We are magic and rhythm.
We have spent an eternity dead. We are life loaned and lived. They are other - they are not us. They borrow our flesh and live our life and they give us that which we had not before. Our voice is the whisper of wind and crack of thunder, meaning without words.
He is hungry, starving to death - not soon; he does not know it yet. But then all our creatures are starving whether they know it or not. We together are eternal. They are each by each evanescent. Days without food will weaken him. Weeks without food will kill him.
He and his family have now lived for months on only the food kept in their cellars. We are harsh here, our soil thin and unbroken. We grow rocks and pine trees, which thrust narrow and tall into the mists of this spring morning. The sun has barely risen. No birds garland the air with their song.
Our frost picks at the hairs of his nose. His breath billows in clouds and he sets himself once again against his collar. It is anchored by means of two stout chains to a plow set into our earth. He is a stocky earth pony, tawny-coated and gray-maned. Where the chains run across his flanks he has wrapped padded cloth around them.
He grunts and pulls, and the plow moves. It grates and the chains jingle and no other sounds disturb our air. A few more steps and he crosses for a moment a bright pool of sunlight. The white of our frost has faded there. Above the chains, the images of three gems shine emblazoned on his hip: one blue, one pink, and one green.
They are the dream for which he came here. Here we grow rocks. But a pony is a creature like all our creatures: he breathes and excretes and bit by bit his body dwindles. Here we must grow alfalfa and vetch and squash; if we do not, no matter how much he dreams, he will blow away on our winds. It is not our nature to grow such things here. Even now, steam rises from his sides and evaporates to nothing.
The plow catches. His forehoof slips on an icy rock and he stumbles and scrapes his knee. He sighs and pauses, sits back on his hindquarters, soft metal sounds. He watches his blood ooze out into our air. The cold stings his knee, but our ground is a relief against his hams. For the first time that morning he hears a jay's raspy call.
And then in a moment the silence is broken again when the door of his farmhouse snaps open. The sound is hollow, like a woodpecker's strike. Then the cold air is filled with the laughter of his foals. His son shuts the door softly, an attentive, considerate soul. Hit daughter has broken into full gallop. Small as she is, he can hear her hooves strike our ground. She is a pegasus; her coat and plumage burn bright and warm. Somepony might capture a sunset and spend weeks simmering it down and in the end its color would not be half as rich as hers.
A smile crosses the stallions face. He can't let her catch him slacking and so once again he makes himself stand. She giggles and leaps and glides to his side. He tells her to mind the blade.
Steel-shod his hooves trample our ground. Steel-sharp his plow binds us. We are stony. He is stonier. At his command our life will occupy the soil. It will embrace the light, drink our water, become his flesh. He and his family will not starve this year.
She has been cursed with this blizzard, utterly cursed, and it's giving her a headache. She can feel it gnawing somewhere at the root of her horn. Her book lies forgotten next to her couch. She sprawls on it next to the fire, her coat slate-gray and blue her mane.
"I told you already, you're the hydra."
"But I don't wanna be the hydra. I wanna be the knight."
"You can't be the knight. You're a girl."
"Am not! Oh. Uh, wait..."
"Hahahah! You said it - little brother."
Children are such a blessing and a curse. The mare groans again and rubs her eyes with a hoof. Our wind whips along stone passageways chiseled into the side of a mountain. On a clear day, the unicorn town can be seen from farther than a day's trot away. It is whitewashed stone and roofs of yellow slate. Bright banners flutter from its parapets.
But today we are not a clear day. The sun barely shines; it is the red hue of blood. The banners have all been taken in, except one forgotten. Our wind rips it to shreds and tears away what little is left.
"Ouch! You bit me."
"Well, you said I was supposed to be the hydra."
"On the ear!"
Twins are double the blessing and double the curse. Their voices blend in perfect singsong cacophony. "Mom!"
She definitely has a headache now. She opens her eyes. Even the indirect light from the fireplace throbs against her eyeballs. She envies her neighbors and their thick stone walls. "Glitter, you are not to be nibbling on anypony's ears. Not for a good long time."
Glitter laughs - it's such a silly idea to her. Her voice rings like sleighbells. Her brother sticks out his tongue and blows a raspberry at her. "Now apologize," he demands.
They face each other, perfect visual complements. She is white; her curly mane shines baby blue and gold. He is a dark brown; his mane is straight and spiky, black and shot with streaks of red.
"I have an idea," their mother says. "How about a field trip?" She hopes the little wretches enjoy it. They might even learn something too.
"But there's no school today." Glitter doesn't complain, her voice is curious.
"That's why it's the perfect day to learn something on your own. Now bundle up, both of you."
Their chipper cheers slice into her brain, but it is a happy wince that crosses her face. She finds her sunglasses and a warm scarf and, in the back of a closet, an old traveling blanket . Pride swells warm deep inside her when she sees that, yes, they can dress themselves now.
The door of their apartment opens into a courtyard. Our snow, a fine sandy dust, falls in sheets that whip horizontally across it. Within seconds, the mother imagines, her foals have had all the outside they could possibly want.
She leads them out and shuts the door behind the three of them.
"How far are we going?" Glitter asks. She nuzzles close to her mother. Our wind sings.
"Oh, not far at all," the mare replies. "Now, what do you know about windigoes?"
She leads them around the edge of the courtyard, where the walls help break the power of our wind. It is a bitter cold. She spins a terrible tale of the founding of Equestria, how our windigoes once fed on the coldness of bickering ponies and lay a blizzard over our land. We are windigoes no more. She knows this but she does not tell her foals.
They turn across the courtyard. The gardens have died back and the trees are all skeletal and leafless. Only the fir at the center of one side stands green. Beyond it a staircase descends under a stone arch, the gateway to the town's square. Where the snow has drifted deep in the courtyard, it comes up to the foals throats so that they aren't sure if they are walking or swimming in it.
As the mother is turning to the final act of her story, where friendship melts ice, she realizes Glitter is missing. She turns and looks back in her tracks, searching for a white filly in white snow. Her heart jumps into her throat. "Glamor!" she calls, "Stay close!" and her dark-coated colt obeys.
He too realizes his sister's absence. They call for her in turn. "Glitter!"
"Glitter!"
They find her shivering behind a planter, her hiding place barely betrayed by the shock of gold in her mane. She is crying. The mare levitates her daughter, paying no attention to her headache now. Her magic, like her eyes, is the pale amber of clover honey. On a clear day they never would have left the sight of their door, but today we are not a clear day.
Along the way home she asks the filly atop her back why she had stopped. Glitter hugs her neck tighter and sobs. "I- I'm sorry," she says. "I need to stop fighting with Glamour so the storm can end. I didn't think I could and- and then I couldn't see you..."
"I think you missed the best part of the story," the mare says. She resumes the legend, telling of the fire of friendship. We freeze her tears to the corners of her eyes.
We are sickness and we are suffering. We are griffons' eggs that never hatch. We are the ground which drinks our blood returned. Glitter and Glamour never knew their big sister. They are their mother's pride. She dearly longs to be worth their love.
There is no more bickering the rest of the day. The foals have found themselves stories to read each other. The mother has at last her quiet. Even when their voices swell they do not seem too loud in her ears.
When we rage we have no restraint. She is more terrible still. She is the calm within our storm. And our blizzard will not cross her threshold.
We are death and we are birth. We are family. And we are the summer sky. The western sea is at our back. We face a dry landscape of mesas and stone stained red and brown. We are wilderness of which pegasi forge their city.
She is the last of her bloodline; she will die before she bears a foal, and yet she does not mourn. She does not know. Today she has stolen herself to a forgotten alley at the edge of the city. There the cloudstuff grows softer and untamed, and there she lounges in a hollow where their clouds are becoming our clouds.
It feels so good for her to yawn and stretch. The vanes of her feathers, each a pale lilac hue, spread and reach deeper into the cloud. Like the thick salt water of a dead inland sea, it offers just enough resistance to keep her floating on top.
Her eyes are closed. Her mouth opens wide. She stretches straight her forehooves she had clasped behind her head. She is youth, lithe and nubile, and when she opens her eyes they are a lucid, delicate orange full of wonder and hunger.
Today we are a fine day. She is at once content and desiring, like a foal one step through the door of the shop of a world-famous confectioner. She has felt this way often since spring, and she likes it. It is not like the ache that gnaws deep in the bones of her limbs. It is the feeling that everything is possible and that she possesses all our time with which to enjoy it.
She has only flown a little. It exhausts her and she envies the adults who make it look so easy. But in this moment, she is full of energy. She draws her forehooves back to her chest and for no reason she giggles to herself.
Then with a twist, she rolls over and climbs unsteady to her hooves. The cloud shifts; she has to keep her legs loose and slightly crouched as it rolls and rocks beneath her. Once she has figured out standing, she grows bored. She next becomes exuberance, splashing and skidding and running about. She pops up for brief moments on flittering wings. She slips and falls and the cloud is so soft it doesn't hurt at all.
Our sky is in her heart. She and we are family. Her bloodline dies with her.
She stops for a moment. Our blood runs in her veins. It warms her hooves and rushes in her ears. Our breath fills her lungs. It is sweet. She crouches low, so that our cloud reaches up and holds her belly and chest. Her tail lies relaxed. It is long and straight and spills across the cloud like a mariner's floating line. It is three brilliant spectral colors: red and yellow-green and blue.
She spies one of our wild birds soaring from over the city. It floats on huge black wings. Its head is naked and tanned leathery and red. It settles atop the last building, a little shed at the edge of solid cloud, and eyes her calmly.
She decides, out of pure, innocent, youthful impulse to hassle it. She edges close. The bird watches and ignores her. She edges closer and crouches low and holds her tail high and twitching.
Only when she launches herself upward, do we take flight and glide to another building. We are patience.
She skitters and laughs and flitters and chases back and forth. Gradually she strays further and further and the clouds grow softer and softer. When she lands on them, she sinks deeper and deeper.
Before she knows it, the clouds are missing. Our wind rushes around her. Our blood rushes within her. She is weightless. She is falling. And from the height of the deck of Los Pegasus, she will fall for a long time. We circle overhead.
After a second and a half of mindless, voiceless screaming, she knows that the only thing that can possibly save her life are her untested wings. She spreads them. Our wind rewards her with a vicious tug that threatens to rip them from their shoulders. A jolt of pain runs from their roots, down either side of her neck, and deep into her chest. She falls into a tumble, clutching her wings tight.
She has shut her eyes against the wind. Tears of pain and frustration and self-disappointment fill them. She hurts. She feels sick. And now she's angry, too.
It is so very hard to tell through the tears and the disorientation, but she thinks the ground is getting closer. It has to be. And she has to do something. She opens her wings ever so slightly. It takes all of her strength to control them - we try to pry them away.
After a moment's experiment, she realizes she can speed up her spin with one wing and thus slow it with the other. She steadies herself. She hoots in happiness and regrets it at once, because it's so hard to draw breath when we are a cataract against her face.
She leans upward, and zooms away from the ground. Her wings ache, but the pain feels distant and unimportant next to the torrent of panic and pride and all the other feelings rushing through her. She turns speed to altitude and, as she slows, smoothly spreads her wings fully open. She tries to hover at her peak. Pain shoots through her chest and wing-shoulders, so she falters and catches herself into a glide. Los Pegasus is far, far above - she cannot reach it. But, she realizes, she can reach the ground. She has no idea what she'll do after that. All her feelings crest and burst out as a barely coherent yell.
"Woaaaaaah-yeah! Take that and eat it, sky!"
We are the joy in life. She laughs brighter. The wind in her wings tosses her aloft and buoys up her soul. She will never bear a foal. But our wind, her wind too, will buoy the souls of everypony she will teach throughout the long years to come. She is the first of her dynasty.
Once upon a time, a road crumbled on the side of one of our mountains. It fell, and with it fell a cart being pulled by a unicorn. He carried his life's savings. He carried his hope to prosper. We carried him to his death.
He was for us a windfall. We took back from him the flesh we had loaned him. He had carried food in his cart. Our mice thrived. They built themselves an empire until, within the season, they stripped the very last edible scrap from his wreck.
We had had a surplus of grain. We now had a surplus of mouse-flesh. Our mice are not sentimental. Our mice are not fools. The strongest survived and escaped. The weakest fed their strength.
It is a grave insult, even if not entirely unprovoked. He stands, hooves set strong upon the cloud macadam. His holds his wings high and his head low. He glares at the ponies ringing him. He is young and strong. His chest is broad even by pegasus standards.
And he most certainly does not do that to his sister, whom he loves dearly - and by no measure perversely.
Sundog is watching his reaction closely, triumph shining atop his forest-green irises.
"Sundog, ye wound me." He can barely keep his voice from shaking, so great is his rage and fear. "And I, Quiet Drift, demand satisfaction be it in word and deed or be it in bone and blood!"
We are ritual. We are power. He is pegasus, not unicorn, but his voice resonates with us still. We are struggle. We are sacrifice. We are the fire that proves the passions of life. We sniff the air and lick our lips.
"Oh," Sundog says. "Th'art wounded. What of your lies, then? I am no cheat, no scoundrel. I have earn'd my victories, as thou knowest well and art too cowardly to say! Aye, satisfaction shall be had."
Ritual thus appeased, the ring of pegasi closes in. They chant, "Fight! Fight!"
Sundog demands their silence with an upraised hoof. "Not now, guys," he proclaims. "Tomorrow. Atop the Thunderfall Heights at first light."
"Sounds good to me. Bare hooves and bound wings. And I trust you to remember that the dawn comes early up there!"
When Drift announces his choice of arms, he sees a flicker of fear cross his foe's eyes. He softly and with self-satisfaction snorts. It was, after all, a grave insult, worth a split lip at the very least.
Our autumn air carries the first breaths of winter. Sunlight sets the Heights aglow, a beacon shining above shadowed city streets. Even so Drift has arrived early. So has Sundog. Their parties take their places at two points along the bank of the thunderflow, a crackling and roiling river of our aether. By night it beckons ponies home to the city with its flickering glow. Not a single pony says anything until the dawn comes and throws their shadows long across it.
"Quiet Drift, I see you made it." Sundog sashays easily across the spongy cloudstuff.
"You too, Sundog. Don't you have something to say?"
"You still think you're getting an apology? Sleet, if I was gonna apologize, I wouldn't have gotten my wings tied. You're goin' down for that alone."
Quiet Drift rolls his eyes. "Let the record show my opponent's disdain for my choice of arms."
"I ain't complainin'! I'll fight you any way you want!" Sundog cries. He drops his head low and charges.
Drift keeps calm and centers himself, his only sign of tension how he shifts and widens his stance. He tracks Sundog's incoming trajectory, timing exactly when to sidestep. A tiny motion in Sundog eyes tells Drift that he plans to turn. Drift stands firm, casually adjusts his hindquarters, and neatly trips Sundog's forehoof against his quadriceps.
A sideways shove helps send Sundog sprawling; he throws up a spray of mist as he skids atop the cloud. Drift wheels and rears, ready to meet his recovering opponent. Sundog instead stays lying down. Drift drops down to all fours to move, and that is the moment Sun chooses to rise. He has a double-kick practiced, one for lift and another to strike. Drift doesn't quite dodge it, he takes a glancing blow across his shoulder.
The strike on his shoulder is barely a bruise, but Drift finds himself backing off seeing stars. Tiny bones and tendons sting: Sundog also struck the wrist of his wing.
Sundog is circling, eyes locked to Drift's. "First blood?"
"Not what I'd call blood," Drift growls. "And we're going 'till somepony gives in." His next move is sudden, launched from stillness, giving no tell for Sundog to read. He catches Sun's neck between his own and his forehoof. Grappling is his strength; he throws Sundog down.
Quiet Drift's next kick would, were they fighting on hard-cloud or ground, quite possibly maim Sundog's ear. On the softer cloud of the Heights, it sinks into mist, passing by almost without harm.
Sundog is barely scraped - there's a ringing in his ear - but he knows at that moment he has to get free. Quiet Drift is heavier and a better wrestler. Sundog, on his back with his wings bound, is in trouble if he can't get up soon. He tries to wriggle his hindquarters into a position where he can buck Drift off of him. He has no luck.
Drift consolidates his hold and draws his hoof back. He's just about to beat the everloving snot out of the punk.
A filly's voice, high and clear, cuts through the morning air. "Quiet Drift, you're gonna be in so much trouble!" Drift recognizes his sister at once. Looking up he sees her in silhouette, wings flared, framed against the fires of dawn. Small as she is, she stomps towards him with the authority of an avenging angel.
"It'll be worth any punishment, sis. You wouldn't believe the unspeakable things he said about you!"
"I've heard," she says. "And you still can't hit him. If you mess up his face, Whisperbolt is gonna make my life a living Tartaran nightmare. Ugh! Boys. You pick fights and never think about the consequences!"
Quiet Drift looks at his hoof and down at Sundog's face and back up into his sister's icy stare. "Who's Whisperbolt?" he asks nopony in particular.
"My marefriend," Sundog admits. "She's a terror."
"You," Drift begins, picking his words carefully. "Seriously, buck, you are some kind of whipped..." He lowers his hoof, steps back, and lets Sundog up.
"You're just as bad," Sundog says. Drift shoots him a withering glare. "Sorry. Not meaning to imply anything. Just, you know..."
He rolls his eyes and the two young stallions say it together: "Mares."
We are cruel. Their mercy is crueler. Ours is the law of tooth and claw, bloody hooves and crippling kicks. When one of our creatures is broken, we are death. We are new life. They demand each day more and more of each other. They grow towards perfection. And as for Quiet Drift... he and Sundog will one day be grandfathers and old friends. We know their granddaughter. She will have the sky in her heart.
Before they came we were freedom. We are the wild spaces, violent and majestic. We were the seasons. We were the plans and patterns of life. We are the silent wings of death.
They made us their slaves. They took our freedom. They put us under the plow. They carved our stone to spurn our storms. They mock our challenges and tragedies with their laughter. They deny our just law.
In these and a million other varied ways, they frustrate us, subvert us, ignore us, and break us. It seems there is no limit to what they will do. They will increase. We will diminish.
And yet, they are each our creatures. We are not resentment.
She is our creature, flesh and breath and blood. We have clothed her in her coat of aquamarine. We have given her a mane the color of the summer sky.
She is an earth pony. Her father farmed our soil. Her mother felled our trees. She sits in a gully, by the bank of our stream. She is quiet and still and her eyes are closed.
We are hungry. Our claws are sharp. The stinger that tips our tail is full of venom.
She lets her mind drift empty. She listens to our birdsong. We are late spring and food is good today. We are finding plenty of insects. We have turned our voices to each claiming his little slice of forest.
She listens. She knows us. We smell her calm perspiration on our breeze.
Her ear flicks towards us and we freeze. She climbs unhurried to her hooves. We pad behind her on soft paws.
She does not return home, not yet. She is not eager to hear again the arguments. Ponies wish to put us more and more under the plow, to fell our trees and grade our soil. She speaks for us.
She sits down again and lets her voice fill our air. She calls to herself our birds. We are beautiful and we are terrible. We are jays and quail and fateskaits. We are a peahen with her chicks. We are a phoenix shyly perched above.
She sings to us. We sing to her.
We stalk closer and flex our claws. Our voices hide us. She cannot hear. It is luck alone that spares her life. She rises to dance the instant we pounce. Our claws lay open the flesh over her ribs.
She wheels and she bucks. Our nose stings.
"Bad kitty!" she cries. Her blood scents our air. Her chorus has fled. She and we both stop for a moment and stare. She stands defiant. We sit back stunned.
Slowly and softly a smile crosses her lips. "No, you're not a bad kitty. I bet you're hungry," she says. "You just need to learn some manners."
She glances back briefly to the wound on her side, then pins our eyes again - there's something about her eyes. "Speaking of rude, I'm making a mess." She looks around and finds the right kind of moss. It grows on the side of a tree, by a bush flowered yellow and white.
She trots to it and leans against it. We growl and stir. Once again she stares into our eyes.
"This hurts, I'll have you know," she adds. "You really have to work on your pounce, mister."
We nod silent, embarrassed agreement. She and we wait. She looks over us carefully.
"Oh," she says. "Sorry. I should say, 'Miss,' shouldn't I? No cubs this year? That's okay, me neither. I'm sure that you'll have better luck next year."
We do not know why but we find ourselves purring. She hums quietly herself and then gently adds, "Oh, you're looking kind of thin. Don't you know about the hog problem? I guess not."
She turns her attention back to her side, then seizes a strip of moss in her teeth. She pulls it from the tree, leaving it stuck to her wound. Then biting off a vine she finishes the dressing.
Thus engaged she looks away from our eyes. Our hunger stirs. And yet, strangely, it doesn't stir now towards her. She seems family. She is kin and kind.
"Now, come on," she says. "I'll show you a good place."
We traipse up-hill, through vines and low bushes. The canopy covers us darker, insects swarm in shafts of light. She notices a rare flower, we go around it.
We come to a cliff, a sheer fall of stone. Above is the ridge and a strip of blue sky. It is not too high, but she looks at it sadly.
"I thought there was a fallen tree," she says. "I can't jump that."
We grumble and set our forepaws against it.
"Oh, I guess it looks like you can. I don't know how well you can understand me, but listen. Over in the next hollow-"
It is all we can do to not make it a full roar. She blinks and looks at us again.
"Oh. Right." She climbs up our back and stands on our head. From there she can reach the edge of the cliff. We back up and bound and catch and scramble. Our claws scar the rock. Pebbles scatter and fall.
"Come on. You can do it," she gently cheers.
With a growl and grumble, we too crest the ridge.
She leads us to a place where our earth has been trampled, a muddy riverbank our creatures have dug.
"There are a lot of hogs around," she says. "Too many, really." She pokes our ribs with her hoof. "Go get 'em, tiger."
We growl.
"Sorry. I know you're a manticore. It's just a figure of speech."
We watch from the air as she makes her way home. Our birds are her vanguard as she follows the ridge. Her ponies are shocked when she returns to town. They offer to bring their fire and axes. They offer to make us safe for them all.
She declines. And then that night she stands before them all, in the center of town. They are gathered and seated and perfectly still. They must be silent to hear her voice.
She tells them our stories, about our birds and our worms, our lizards and our bugbears, our trees and our streams. She wears her wound with pride.
We are beautiful. We are terrible. We are cruel, she says. She is kind.
"Trust," she says, late in the evening. Fireflies dance over her head. "Trust is when something can hurt you, but you do it anyway. Now I know this isn't the best argument, but I think we need to keep little bits of this land the way it was. No farming. No weather control. No safety. But no fooling ourselves either. We're animals too, you know. And when I go out there, I learn and... I don't know how to say it, but maybe 'live,' I guess."
She didn't expect them to listen, but they did.
We are indomitable. She has tamed us. They break us and make us new and take everything and make us better than we were. She listened to us. They listen to her. She gave us her words. They are written in books the ponies read kept in places that are not ours. But they give us places that are not theirs, places that we do not deserve. Across our land, we serve their desire. In those places we are ever free.
Between first spark and final entropy, we are the turbulence. We are noise and noise alone. Before they came we had no meaning. We were cold, wrapped in winter. Under the fire of the ponies we come alive.
Five syllables. Five syllables to ensnare our gratitude as like smoke it drifts away. To bottle our fear, our joy, our unease, our love. With them we are many things. They say we are terrible. They say we are beautiful. We never were these things.
We are. We always are. We merely are. They are more.
We are light. They are every color refracted through a shattered gem.
We lend to them our life. They lend to us their... We have not the word, but it is as if they were alive and we dead. They plant themselves deep, they discover meaning, and we know not from where their (talent, perhaps?) comes. It is not from us. It is wondrous new.
Five syllables echo, an empty shell of what in agony we long to say.
He said he would meet her at the bridge at eight. It was half past when Hope sighed, giving in to the fact that yet another date had stood her up.
“What the hell is wrong with them all!?” The setting sun gave no answer, nor did the babbling river below. She bit her lip and looked into its crystal waters at her tiny, rippling reflection. Why didn’t anypony like her? Was her deformity really that grotesque?
The thought turned her head to her side, which was smooth, then to the other, which was covered by a brilliant teal wing. She spread it half-heartedly, then closed it tight, turning away and squinching her eyes. A grunt escaped her. If he was that shallow, he wasn’t worth it anyways.
Toward home she trod, head haging low. There was no reason why ponies should assume she was weird. Anypony in their right mind should be able to understand that. Hoping her thoughts to be true, she looked about at passers-by. Some paid no attention, but others stared curiously, even one she recognized.
“Hey, High Strung! You lookin’ at something?” she yelled at a stallion in a top hat and lapel. He was clearly taken aback, his mouth falling agape before a shake of his head and a scowl as he stormed off.
Hope huffed. What a pretentious prick. They were all the same, one way or the other. It was either pity or pranks, pranks like the stallion that had stood her up. Pity or pranks. Fear or indifference. But never respect.
Respect was hard to come by nowadays in the thick of Manehattan, even for those considered “normal.” Regardless, Hope kicked a rock to vent her frustration. It bounced off the hoof of a stall-perusing mare, who turned in offense that turned to disgust upon seeing her.
Whatever had she said, Hope had no reason to listen and passed by without looking back. It was probably just another insult, like always. On second thought, she looked over her shoulder at the mare. “You should—”
Not looking where she was going, Hope collided with a soft but firm object and fell to her haunches. She shook her head and looked up to see a gryphon towering above her, eyes narrowed in rage.
“What the hell is wrong with you!? Get your brain-dead, defective ass out of my sight!”
Hope reared just out of reach of a claw swipe and fell over backwards. The gryphon glared death for a moment before stepping over her, muttering, “Useless filth.”
She had had it. First no date, and now this. Tears welling in her eyes, she took off for home, not caring for who saw. She slammed the door behind her and latched it before falling to pieces against it. Crying felt like a weak thing to do, but it felt good. It reminded her of Mother, whose bright smile she could now see, clear as day. The rough wood of the door provided little comfort, but she remained against it, enjoying the discomfort; she shouldn’t want to cry.
Furthering that thought, she rolled her back against the door to dry her eyes with her hooves, though the room about her didn’t help. A broken picture on a corner table. A set of disused china on a life-weathered table. They made her eyes, and then her body, gravitate toward a porcelain vase on a chipped fireplace. Wistful-eyed, she traced a hoof down its side.
“I’m home, mom.”
She saw her reflection in it. A sunny Spring morning. A lilac-filled garden. She shut her eyes to wash them away, but they remained, vivid and painful.
Sighing, she walked to her bedroom and fell atop a threadbare mattress that lay thrown in the center. Its lumps pressed into her chest, causing her to roll over and observe the stucco ceiling.
Knowing sleep was the best option, she sighed and awaited it sweet embrace.
The next day, Hope went through her normal routine. She brushed her teeth, combed her mane, ate leftover oats, and was on her way to work, head empty of thought. Through the bustling streets she walked, staring ahead so as to not give reason to think. Life went faster that way. It was as she stepped up to the door of Little Bite’s Bakery that she heard a familiar voice shout over the general din.
“Piss off!”
Hope turned her head to gaze down the street, where a gryphon scowled at a stallion laying in the heap of wood that was once a vegetable stall. The stallion scrambled to his hooves before sprinting past Hope faster than she thought his hefty frame would allow.
Put off by such a display, Hope trotted toward the gryphon with every intent of telling him off. Getting there, however, was much more difficult than she first anticipated, the streets being as crowded as they were. When she caught up, the gryphon was inspecting the wares of a skittish-looking colt wearing a paperboy hat.
Hope stopped not two hooves away from the gryphon. Now standing tall beside him, she realized he was more than two heads taller than her. He smelled musky, as if he hadn’t bathed in days. “H-hey you.”
“What do you want?” he replied, not bothering to look up as he lifted a metal dish from its stand.
A lump formed in her throat. “I... I want you to stop bullying ponies. You have no right to do that.”
“Is that so?” He turned toward her, and a hint of surprise grew on his face, followed by the tiniest of smiles. “And who says that?”
Hope blinked, her voice catching in her throat. There was malice in his smile, but also curiosity. She leaned back, “I...” then forward, puffing out her chest and putting on the bravest face she could, “I do.”
“Hah!” The gryphon regarded the dish one last time before placing it in his saddlebags and walking away. “Whatever.”
A breath that she didn’t know she had been holding escaped her. Then she realized he had stolen the dish and looked to the colt, who looked puzzled as to what he should do.
Feeling sorry for him, she tossed a bit on the stall’s countertop, saying, “Sorry,” before rushing after the gryphon. “What the hell was that for?”
“What was what?”
“What do you mean ‘what was what?’ You stole that dish.”
“No I didn’t.”
Hope stopped in her tracks. “Are you serious? I just watched you walk away with it.”
The gryphon turned his head, smiling slyly. “You paid for it.”
“I... wha... Was all that just to get me to pay for your crap so you wouldn’t have to?”
“No, but it’s fun seeing your reaction regardless.”
Never before had Hope felt so toyed with. She wanted to tackle him and grind his skull into the pavement. “You’re—”
“Please, I’ve heard just about everything.” The gryphon turned to walk away.
“I was going to say you’re a sad individual.”
The gryphon stopped, his head tilting back for a moment before turning. His eyes met hers. “I take that back.” He looked aside, then shook his head and continued on his way.
Feeling that justice hadn’t been fully served, Hope trotted to keep pace alongside him. It was then that she noticed the peculiar nature of his saddlebags. They wrapped underneath his stomach, but there was another layer of what she realized to be cloth wrapping beneath it, the whole length of his body.
“Is there a reason you’re following me?”
“You’re an asshole.”
The gryphon chuckled. “Now that one I’ve definitely heard before. Why don’t you run along and do whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing.” His eyes flashed. “Or were you wanting to get back at me for yesterday?”
So he remembered her afterall. Good. “Maybe.”
“Oh, don’t give me that. Why else would you waste your time following me around?”
“Maybe because I’m defective, useless filth.”
The gryphon chuckled. “Maybe I was a little forthcoming. I shouldn’t have called you useless. After all, you did pay for my dish.”
Hope’s jaw dropped in offense. “Oh, so I’m still defective? Asshole really does suit you.”
“Oh, ma’am... you’re too kind. But maybe you should work on your originality, as you already said that.”
“Oh, Celestia, why don’t you just shut up. You’re just like everypony else I’ve ever met. This world is full of assholes!”
“Hmm? How so?” He looked interested in being called run-of-the-mill. It made her sick.
“Because ponies like you always take one look at me and think the same thing!”
“And what is that?”
“That I’m weird. That I’m not good enough. That I’m some sort of monster.” She felt tears trying to form at her eyes, but she blinked them away before they could form.
“Well, I think you’re the most annoying pony alive, but I have no reason to think you’re weird.”
“What are you talking about? You called me defective.”
“I call many ponies many things.”
“Yeah, you might as well tell them they’ll never be able to do what they want most in the world.”
“May I ask what you’re going on about?”
She stopped, on the verge of tears. “My wing, you prick! Don’t act like it wasn’t why you called me that.”
The gryphon cocked his head to look at her more closely. “Huh,” was all he said before resuming his stroll. “I hadn’t noticed that. But I’ll keep it in mind for next time.”
Surprised, Hope blinked. He didn’t know she only had one wing? Curiosity overtook and compelled her forward. She trotted alongside him for a moment in silence, glancing at him occasionally. Clearly agitated, he looked ahead, ignoring her presence.
“So why’d you call me defective?”
He winced as if stabbed in the heart, then sighed. “Because... as you were so keen to point out, I’m an asshole.” He enunciated the last words, leaning toward her as he said them.
“But why defective?”
“Because I just did.”
“But why?”
“Because!” He sighed. “Because it was the first thing that came to mind.”
Though it was still an insult, Hope couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t care that she had only one wing. “What’s your name?”
“Why do you want to know?
“Because I just do.” She hoped inverting his words would hit home, and the growl he suppressed said she indeed succeeded. Unintentionally, her smile doubled, which caused him to roll his eyes.
“Tigoragan.”
“Tigoragan? What kind of a name is that?”
He growled again. “My name. Now go away.”
“Well, mine’s Hope.”
“Thanks, I’ll remember to forget it as soon as possible.”
Not quite the response she expected. But then again, he hardly wanted to speak let alone be anywhere near her. Her thoughts jumped to the saddlebags and the cloth wrappings beneath. She took a shot in the dark. “So what’s with your saddlebags?”
“What about them?”
“What do you got in ‘em? I can hear em clangin’ around.”
“Metal.”
Hope blinked. “What?”
“Surely you heard me and can’t truly be this dim.”
She bit back the urge to call him a trumped-up pidgeon. “What’s it for?”
“Why should I tell you?”
“Because I want to know.”
“Well, I’m not going to tell you.”
“Okay, then tell me what’s with the bandages.”
He turned, surprise apparent on his face. “Wha-hmm... You’re an annoying little shit, aren’t you?”
Having gotten her hoof in the door, she smiled. “And I will be until you tell me what’s in ‘em.”
He sighed, a mixture of resentment and admiration in the smile he tried to hide. His mouth opened to speak, but he decided against it.
Anticipant, Hope waited for an answer. Seeing that he had no intention of saying, she pried further, saying, “I’m waiting...”
“Oh, will you just shut up.”
“If you really don’t want to talk to me, then why haven’t you just flown off?”
At this, Tigoragan rounded on her, eyes ablaze. Not until this moment had she felt any sense of danger, but seeing his figure towering far above her, she realized just how easily he could end her life with the twitch of a claw.
“Piss off!”
He stormed off, and Hope felt a pang of guilt shoot through her. Those bandages. She never meant to strike such a nerve. There was no excuse not to apologize. And with her goal in mind, she set off after him, but at a distance.
It wasn’t long before he arrived at a large building resembling a warehouse. A bay window with chipping white paint sat to the side, curtains drawn. When he slammed the door behind him, Hope looked up and down the street before crossing to knock. She wanted to make sure there were plenty of witnesses around, just in case.
At the door, she rose a hoof, but paused. Did she want to do this? He did deserve it, after all. What goes around comes around, as they say. Regardless, the guilt seemed to have no intention of releasing its grasp until she went through with it, so she knocked.
It was a solid door, the echo of her knock almost nonexistent. Unsure if it was loud enough, she knocked again. It opened to reveal Tigoragan scowling as he had most of their prior conversation, which became more pronounced when he recognized her.
“What do you want?”
“I want to apologize for what I said back there.” The urge to avert her eyes was strong, but she fought to keep contact with his.
The door slammed in her face.
Hope huffed. She knocked again, determined he was going to accept her apology. A minute passed with no answer, so she knocked again. Still no answer. She rolled her eyes, then began knocking, and didn’t stop until the door again opened.
“I don’t want your apology.”
“Well, I’m not leaving until you accept it.”
“Fine, I forgive you.” He tried to slam the door shut, but Hope was expecting such. In the nick of time, she stuck her hoof in the door and felt its weight try and bend her hoof in a way it was never meant to bend. It didn’t work quite as painlessly as she had expected. Her eyes watered as Tigoragan opened the door, anger clear in his face.
“What the hell do you want.”
Hope blinked away her tears. “I want you to accept my apology.”
“I already did. Now go away.”
“I want you to mean it.”
Tigoragan blinked once, then sighed. “Fine.” He started to close the door again.
“Wait.”
“Oh will you-what?”
The anger in his voice made her flinch and second-guess what she had to say, but the noise behind her gave her confidence. “That’s it?”
“What’s it?”
“‘Fine?’ That’s it.”
“Yes. Now for the last time, go away.”
The door slammed shut before she could put her foot in the way—not that she wanted to experience such pain again. Content with her good deed, Hope turned for the bakery. A step forward shot an unbearable pain up her hoof. She winced.
Looking around, she saw a street sign that read “Canterbury St.,” meaning she was nearly three miles from home and two from work. There was no way she could walk that far in such pain. Unable to think of anything else, she hesitantly knocked on Tigoragan’s door.
A moment passed before the door cracked open, and Hope could see the fury boiling within the eye that peered out at her.
Her blood ran cold. “M-My... my hoof hurts.”
“And that’s my problem, why?” His voice dripped with the desire to rip her limb from limb.
“Be... because you’re the one that slammed it in the door.”
“I’ve done worse things to ponies for less.”
To preempt his shutting it, she put her good hoof against the door. Please, can I come in and bandage it? It’ll only take a second.”
His eye narrowed. A guttural snarl sent goosebumps up Hope’s legs, but the door began to swing with her touch. “Touch anything and I’ll kill you.”
Not doubting his words, she nodded slowly and hobbled in.
A cobblestone floor stretched to all corners of the room. An open staircase against the far wall led to a door on the second story. Beneath it, a workbench wrapped the corner and stretched across the left wall, papers and cutting instruments and graphs covering every inch of it and its walls. A sturdy, wooden table, twice the size of any she had ever seen, sat diagonally toward the room’s middle from the corner-cut workbench. Heaps of scrap metal, a scale, Tigoragan’s saddlebags, and a scroll lay atop it, while a pile of leather scraps and rusty rotor cranks lay beside it, as if swept off to make room for a new project.
To the right, the ceiling hung low to make space for an upstairs room. A large industrial furnace took up much of the back corner, its flames within providing the only light to that side of the room. An anvil sat beside it, calipers and hammers and chisels and many other tools she didn’t know the names of lined atop it, awaiting their next duty. A pile of yellow, disintegrating newspapers lay open in the front corner.
Hope mouthed a “wow” before a roll of bandages bounced off her head. She scowled at Tigoragan, who was arranging the metal on the table in an order only he could understand. Intrigued, Hope forwent her first aid and walked to his side. “What are you making?”
“You said you’d only be a second.” His eyes and claws danced among the scraps, calculating with mind while weighting with scale.
“I asked you what you were—”
“Sixteen... Seventeen... Eighteen...”
Hope huffed. “You can’t honestly expect me to—”
I can. And I will. Wrap your hoof and be gone.”
Insulted, she stared at him for a moment before inspecting the graph the scraps surrounded. It was a blueprint of a mechanical wing, long and powerful. Hope gasped unintentionally, and her words came out breathlessly. “You’re rebuilding your wings.”
“I said be gone!”
He turned to her, his beak twisted in a snarl, but she ignored the threat. “What happened to them?”
His chest heaved to contain his rage, slowly winning the battle until he huffed and turned back to the blueprint. “Someone took them from me.”
Hope gasped. “Who could do such a thing?”
“Why do you care?”
She took a breath to answer, but stopped. What right did she have to pry? His business was his own, though she felt the need to extend sympathy. Her need overpowered courtesy and curiosity. She spread her single wing.
Tigoragan paused to glance her way, then silently resumed his work.
Expecting a response, Hope raised an eyebrow. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Well who did this to you?”
“My brother.”
The answer struck her in the gut. Not only had she expected him to continue stalling, but his answer came twice as much so. “How... how could your brother do something like this to you?”
“You clearly know nothing of gryphon culture.”
Hope shuddered. If gryphon culture was this barbaric, she was thankful for her ignorance. “Why would your brother do something like this to you?”
“An eye for an eye.” Finished with his calculations, he began tossing the scraps into his saddlebags. “A wing for a wing.”
The muscles in Hope’s body pulled taught. Her heart skipped a beat as he looked her dead in the eye.
“Move.”
Her body resisted the order.
“I said move.”
Slowly, her body relaxed just enough to slide out of his way.
He walked to the furnace where he dropped his saddlebags, grabbed a pair of tongs, and opened the furnace. Even from where she stood, Hope could feel the heat singe her coat. One by one, he placed the scraps inside the forge. They became red and white hot before he shut the door. Almost immediately, the room became cool again as a light draft kissed away the sweat of her brow.
Tigoragan turned. “You’re still here?”
Hope gulped. “Yes.”
“Why?” He strolled toward her, his head cocked to show only one eye that flashed with sinister curiosity.
She stepped back. “B-because—”
“Because what? You think I need some little pony to annoy me daily? That I need help? That—”
“Because you’re just like me!”
Tigoragan froze. His face darkened. “Get out.”
Hope took another step back. “I-I didn’t mean—”
“Get out!”
Instnctively, she shielded her face from the tongs he threw. Its searing heat blistered her fetlock on contact, and she raced around the table for the door, then home without looking back.
She burst through her front door and collapsed in a heap, wheezing and crying—but not from the pain in her hooves. There was somepony out there just like her, in just as much pain. It was a pain she knew all too well. However, his must have been recent. Her breathing subsiding, she gazed at the door at the thought of him.
Whether he knew it or not, he needed somepony.
Hope stood. She looked back at Mother’s vase. “I’ll make you proud, mom.” With great effort, she hobbled out the door and back the way she came, brushing off the looks of passers-by. Her ankle screamed for an end to the torture, but she pressed on.
Before the dark green door she eventually found herself. She set her face with determination and tried the handle. Surprised that he hadn’t locked the door, she paused a moment before regaining her courage and stepping through.
Tigoragan turned at from his workbench, face twisting in rage. “You have five seconds to leave before I tear you to pieces.” He walked toward her. “One...”
Hope shied back, but then stood tall.
“Two...”
“I want to help.”
Head cocking back, Tigoragan paused. “And why would you want to do such a thing?”
“Because I can understand why you don’t want to be like this.”
“Who in their right mind would?”
“I do.”
Tigoragan looked taken aback. A screen seemed to lift from his visage, as if he saw a completely different pony standing before him. “Why is that?”
Hope glanced at the floor, saying, “Because...” then back into his eyes, “Because I was born this way. An I have no intention of changing that.”
She paused, waiting for him to answer. When his only response was his intrigued stare, she continued, “My mother always raised me to be somepony special. Being different didn’t mean I was lame, it meant I was special. Nopony in the world is like me.” She stretched out her wing and smiled sentimentally at it. “I was special. And if I could make it in this world...” A small chuckle escaped her. “Then there was hope in it.”
“Fine.”
Hope blinked, then looked up to see him walking toward the desk.
“If you want to help, make the feathers.”
He grabbed a cardboard box and carried it toward the furnace. Assuming he wanted her to follow, she trotted up beside him. Sure enough, the box he dropped to the floor clattered with many small metal objects inside. His gaze was level. “Surely you won’t find it difficult.”
Hope opened the box to see many oddly shaped pieces of metal. They were all slender, but some were longer than others. The largest part of them was flat, while a smaller part was bent at an angle and twisted sideways. Among the hundreds of them were larger pieces, hinged at the base and with small slots running the inside of both arms, which tapered to needlepoints and looked to have a clamping mechanism on their very tips. Feather shafts.
One plus one equals two.
She took a hinged piece in her mouth and then tried to grab one of the many bent pieces. Given her circumstances with hooves, the latter proved difficult. She managed to balance one in her hoof. “Ha!” Now, as she surmised, she needed to get it into a slot in a hindged length. Moving her hoof toward her mouth, the piece slipped and fell into the box.
“If it is too hard a task for you, I’m sure I can manage myself.”
Hope glanced between him and the box. It dawned on her that he gave her the job on purpose. She scowled, hastily scooping another hoofful of bent pieces. Nopony would beat her in a war of stubbornness if she had a say.
One. Ten. Fifty times she tried and failed to slip a piece into its slot. Tigoragan chuckled, provoking a groan from Hope. Clearly her method wasn’t working. She tapped her hoof against her head. She had to think outside the box.
Suddenly, she blinked. Or on the box.
Taking the feather shaft from her mouth, she held its base against the lip of the box, the slotted length hanging over the box. Her mouth free, she took a bent piece hovered it over the open feather shaft. Like like it was her special talent, she slipped the flat end through a slot, where its bent end caught inside the shaft. Hope smirked, proud she had found a method.
Progress went slowly but surely. The feather took shape as each successive piece was added to the puzzle. And when the last piece was securely in place, Hope clamped the two arms together.
“Owch!” she yelled at the sharp pain of a feather being yanked from her wing. Before she could turn to rebuke him, Tigoragan held her feather beside the one she had made. Barring length and the furnace’s warm light that flickered off the metal feather, the two looked nearly identical.
Hope gazed between them for what felt like hours. How similar they were, yet so different. She turned the feather in her hooves to watch the furnace light dance about, enamoured so by its lifelike perfection.
Mother would be proud.
“It’s beautiful...” she whispered.
“It’s one of one thousand,” Tigoragan said, taking it from her grasp, “and it took you ten times longer than I could have done myself.”
“What the hell? Aren’t you gonna thank me?”
“I didn’t ask you to help. I have no reason to.” He walked back to the bench and resumed his work. “Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on your way out.”
The breaths in Hope’s chest became short and forced as she glared at him. Tears formed in her eyes. “You ungrateful...” She raced for the door. Her hoof on the handle, she paused. It looked just like the one in her house. She looked over her shoulder at Tigoragan, who was absorbed in tinkering with his wing base.
No.
Hope wiped her eyes and returned to the box. In the corner of her eye, she noticed him look up for a moment—only a moment—before again working with his own project as if he hadn’t.
She sat down and balanced another shaft on the box’s lip. The loud hammering and scraping of his tools drew her eyes toward him. If he truly didn’t want her to help, he would have thrown her out long ago. She looked back at the shaft in her hoof and sighed away her frustration.
Sergeant Sprinkles tugged at his Guard chest piece, grumbling under his breath. He could have sworn the golden garb had shrunk by at least two sizes since he last wore it. His helmet felt stuffy.
“Sergeant Sprinkles?” a gruff voice said. He looked up to see the bailiff opening the double doors to the hearing chambers. “You may enter.”
Sprinkles saluted, and made his way into the chamber. As he walked down the hallway, he was well aware of the dozens of pairs of eyes peering at him. He supposed that was only natural; he was, after all, a hot topic amongst the Guard. In the centre of the chamber, lay a wooden dais. Facing it was a long table, where the ranked officers of the Guard awaited. Their impassive faces studied Sprinkles as he took his place on the dais.
The officer at the centre cleared her throat and began, “Good morning, Sergeant Sprinkles. You should know why you are called here today.” Sprinkles recognised her as Lieutenant Ironhide, one of the few ranked female Guards.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I hope to make this session as short as possible.” Her clipped voice was all business. “So, by all means, we shall begin now.”
The officer standing to the left of Lt Ironhide’s spoke, “Sergeant. Tell us about the mission that you were assigned to on the 23rd of July.”
“Certainly. It was a routine patrol mission on the eastern borders of Equestria. Our assigned area was between the city of Hoofington and the village of Sunny Dale. We were supposed to relieve Captain Cloudchaser’s squad who had been patrolling the region.”
“Hey, Sarge?” the youthful voice of his corporal spoke.
Sprinkles continued to fiddle with his chest piece armour. After several moment of futilely trying to get the aquamarine insignia to match up with his golden plate, he grunted, “Yes, Lemongrass?”
“I heard Dawnstrider has been appointed as our new officer,” Lemongrass replied.
“Aye. Just got word yesterday.” Sprinkles chuckled. “Apparently the brass thinks our squad could use some publicity. Who better than the poster child of the Canterlot media, Captain Dawnstrider himself?” He tugged at his chest piece again.
“You ever thought of... maybe getting another assignment?”
“No, I haven’t. And I don’t intend to.” Sprinkles frowned and glanced at his friend and drinking buddy. Lemongrass seemed to be busy adjusting his blonde mane in the mirror. “Why do you ask?”
“I don’t like him, Sarge. He’s as green as they come and yet he gets promoted to Captain before you. I mean, I get he’s as smart as they come from the academy, but he only served for three years!”
“Benefits of having a commission, son,” Sprinkles replied, making one last attempt to right his insignia. To his dismay, the aquamarine star broke off instead and tumbled on the floor. Sprinkles sighed and bent down to pick up the errant piece of ornament.
Lemongrass chuckled. “You really should get that fixed, Sarge. Ain’t a Guard without your insignia.”
“One of these days. One of these days,” Sprinkles replied, reaching into his locker for his trusty tube of glue. “Why are you so worried about the Captain, anyway?”
“I dunno, Sarge. I heard things about him. Bad things.” Lemongrass trotted over and leaned in conspiratorially. “I heard he once tore a rookie a new one when the poor guy forgot to salute him on his first day.”
Sprinkles raised an eyebrow. “That’s harsh, but not unusual. Hell, I tore you a new one when you first came in.”
“Considering how I acted back then? I think you were right, Sarge.” Lemongrass glanced around shiftily again. “But the Captain? He went and ragged the new rookie for weeks on end afterwards. I hear the rookie is now seeing a shrink. And she wasn’t the only one that got the treatment from the Captain. A couple of other rookies got scrubbed as well, all for minor complaints. But the Captain got away with it, see? All hush-hush.”
“I see...” Sprinkles rubbed his chin. He wasn’t sure what to make of that, truth be told. The rookie had been unfortunate enough to fall afoul of the rules in the presence of the captain. But what Lemongrass told him was a little disturbing by itself. He didn’t approve of mistreating those under his command simply because he had the power to do so. And the worst part was he was only hearing of this now, from Lemongrass of all ponies.
“I’m sure the Captain isn’t as bad as ponies say he is. You know how these rumours tend to exaggerate things.”
Lemongrass' expression mirrored my own. “I guess...”
“Sergeant. Who were the members of your team?”
“Captain Dawnstride was the leader. I was the second-in-command. Corporal Lemongrass, Private Grey Shadow and Private Wind Whipper was assigned to our team,” Sprinkles said.
Lt Ironhide fixed her gaze on Sprinkles. “Very good. Was there any trouble prior to starting this assignment?”
“Not that I know of, ma’am.”
Captain Dawnstride strode down the hallway, his golden armour gleaming in the fading light of the sun. Sprinkles had to admit, Dawnstrider was the very model of the Equestrian Royal Guard. Tall, imposing and handsome. His sleek blonde mane was neatly cropped, his white coat groomed immaculately. Even his horn seem to radiate authority. “Sergeant, is the squad ready for take-off?” he boomed.
“Yes, sir. All equipment and supplies are stowed and we’re ready to fly at your command.”
“Good. We leave in precisely fifteen minutes. With luck, we should reach Point Alpha by moonrise.” Dawnstrider paced past Grey Shadow, before suddenly stopping in his tracks. “Private.”
Grey Shadow blinked. “Yes, sir?”
Dawnstrider leaned dangerously close to the grey unicorn. “When was the last time you polished your chest piece, soldier?” He ran a hoof across the golden armour and held it up for Grey Shadow to see. A thin film of grime clung to the golden shod.
“Umm... last week?”
Dawnstrider narrowed his eyes. “You sound unsure, Private. I ask again. When was the last time you cleaned your chest piece?”
Grey Shadow gulped. “Last... last Thursday... s-sir!”
The corners of Dawnstrider’s lips curled up, though the captain clearly wasn’t smiling. “Really now? Did you know the rules & regulation specfically stipulates that a guard have to keep his armour clean at all times?”
“It doesn’t look too dirty—” Grey Shadow flinched as Dawnstrider stomped his hoof down. A pregnant silence followed, the captain boring holes into the hapless unicorn with his azure eyes.
“S-So—” Grey Shadow began, before a hoof grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.
“Did I say you can speak, private?” Dawnstrider growled. His horn lit up dangerously.
Sprinkles had enough of the charade. “Captain. We must leave now.”
Dawnstrider shot Sprinkles an annoyed glance. He slowly let Grey Shadow go and stepped back. “You got lucky this time, private.” He turned towards the entrance. “Sergeant, load up the chariot. Let’s go.”
Sprinkles watched as the captain strode out of the room, before trotting over to Grey Shadow. The unicorn was trembling on his hooves, glancing at the door nervously. “It’s okay, son. Don’t let him get to you.”
Lt Ironhide sipped her glass of water. “Tell us about the mission. Start from the beginning if you please.”
Sprinkles nodded. “We started off from the Canterlot Academy as planned, heading for Point Alpha, where Captain Cloudchaser had set up camp awaiting our arrival. We arrived without incident and the handover went smoothly. We stayed for a night, then broke camp and started our way north, towards Hoofington.”
Patrol had to be one of the most boring job a guard could have. Pulling a chariot on patrol? Doubly so.
“So, Wind, who do you think will win the Equestrian Series next year?” Sprinkles said, with a small grin.
Wind Whipper rolled his eyes. “Sarge, you know who I’d choose. The Trottingham Trotters, any day.”
“You also know that the Trotters had their behind kicked by the Ponyvillian Prancers?”
“Bah, the Prancers cheated. They had that super hyper pink mare... what’s her name again... Pinkie Pie? She was a game-changer all the way,” Wind Whipper said, scrunching his nose.
“Sounds like sour grapes to me,” Sprinkles said, his smile growing wider.
“You’d have to watch it to believe it, Sarge. That mare can put in a home run like nopony’s business. And then run rings around our pitchers.”
“Pipe down, you two. We’re supposed to be on a patrol, not discussing whatever sports team that comes to mind,” Dawnstrider barked.
Sprinkles glanced back on their passenger, and sniffed. He was disliking the captain more and more by the minute.
Wind Whipper leaned in and whispered, “Sarge, when do you think he’d get that stick out of his behind?”
“Probably never,” came the laconic reply.
“So the first part of the patrol was uneventful. So noted. What happened after?”
“Three nights in, we were crossing Deep Tail Woods. As you are aware, ma’am, the Deep Tail Woods are notorious for being one of few places in Equestria where bands of bandits still exists. We thought we pacified the area some time back, and it has been a year since the last bandit attack.”
“Is that... a caravan?” Sprinkles said, squinting.
“Can’t rightly tell, sir,” Lemongrass replied.
Dawnstrider tapped his hooves. “Alright, land us down there by the clearing. We’ll move in on foot and see what they’re up to.”
“Yes, sir,” the team chorused.
They glided silently downwards, the chariot barely visible in the sliver of moonlight. They landed in the darkened glade. Sprinkles unfastened the harnesses and grabbed his spear. The others did the same with their weapons of choice. Dawnstrider levitated a broadsword and slid it into his scabbard behind his back. Lemongrass took up a spear as well, while both Wind Whipper and Grey Shadow took up short swords.
Dawnstrider gestured for them to follow. “Stay close. We should be able to take them by surprise.”
They melted into the underbrush, in the direction of the unwary caravan.
“So you took these... griffons by surprise?”
“Yes, ma’am. Complete surprise. They didn’t even resist. It helped that there were only two of them. They were hauling along a wagon.”
“I see.”
Dawnstrider pressed the griffon against the wagon with his sword. “Who are you and why are you heading this way?” Dawnstrider demanded, his tip of his sword pointed directly at the throat of the griffon.
“We... we’re just travellers. We got no quarrel with ponies.” the griffon stammered, his claws grasping his throat.
“For your sake, that better be true. Sergeant, check the caravan. They might smuggling in contraband for all we know.”
“Yes, sir.” Sprinkles waved for the other griffon to move over. “Shadow, watch him.” The unicorn nodded. “Lemongrass, with me. Wind, try to make sure we don’t get any unpleasant visitors.” Wind Whipper grumbled as he shuffled off.
Sprinkles approached the caravan with care, holding his spear at the ready. Lemongrass followed closely behind, glancing back at the two griffons occasionally. The wagon seemed like any other, the contents loosely covered by a rough white tarp. Sprinkles tapped the top of the wagon lightly, watching carefully for any movement. Seeing none, he used his spear to nudge the edge of the tarp and began to lift it up. He could hear Lemongrass shallow breathing behind him.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the tarp ascended. Revealing baskets of fruits. Grapefruits, by the looks of it. One of the Griffon Empire’s main export to Equestria. Sprinkles threw the tarp with a flick of his spear. Sure enough, the entire wagon contained grapefruit. Sprinkles heaved a sigh of relief. His sharp ears picked up Lemongrass’ snicker. “Gee, Sarge. Are we arresting ponies for selling fruits now?” he whispered.
“No, we’re not,” Sprinkles replied dryly. He called out to the captain. “All clear, Captain. They’re just fruit traders.”
Dawnstrider snorted, and released his hold on the griffon. “It seems you’re right.” The griffon blinked in surprise, almost as if he had been expected his head to be taken off at any minute. He quickly backed away and joined his companion who had been standing under Grey Shadow’s guard.
“Pardon me for askin’, but what in the name of Equestria possessed you two to travel down such a desolate stretch of road?” Grey Shadow said, scratching his head.
“We wanted to get into Hoofington by sunrise tomorrow. In time for the big Fruit Festival fair there,” the first griffon answered.
“Oh! You’re here for the big annual Hoofington Fruit Festival? You know, my aunt is one of the—”
“Captain! I think I saw something,” Wind Whipper shouted.
“So the two were merchants?” an officer asked.
Sprinkles nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“What happened next?”Lt Ironhide said.
The next thing Sprinkles knew, the dreaded whistles of arrows flying past filled the air around them. “Ambush!” Lemongrass yelled, diving for the relative safety of the wagon. Wind Whisper wailed in pain as the one of the arrows struck true. Sprinkles could hear a loud thud as the pegasus collapsed on the ground.
“Take cover, you idiots,” Dawnstrider shouted, the bulky unicorn taking shelter behind the wagon as well. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he leaned sideways to peek at their unseen attackers. Another arrow thudded home not one inch from his face. Dawnstrider wisely retreated and grunted.
“Sergeant, we need a distraction. We’re sitting ducks here.” Dawnstrider glanced at Lemongrass. “Private. You know what to do. Draw their fire and we can move in to engage.”
“What? Are you out of your mind? There’re so many arrows out there that I’ll be feathered not three wingbeats away.”
“Are you refusing a direct order, Private?” Dawnstrider demanded. Sprinkles thought he heard a note of nervousness in the normally confident voice of Dawnstrider.
“Well screw you, Captain. This better work.” Lemongrass poked his head around wagon once again. Sensing the flood of arrow momentarily reduced to a trickle at the moment, he dashed out of cover with a strong flap.
Dawnstrider got to his hooves. “Let’s go, Sergeant,” he said. Sprinkles nodded and dashed out with spear on hoof. Shadowy figures lurked in the forest ahead, at least three, if his eyes didn’t deceive him. Then he felt himself being thrown backwards as a grey blur pounced on him.
“Watch out, sir!” Grey Shadow yelled.
Sprinkles quickly got to his hooves and crawled back into the shadow of the wagon, Grey Shadow following closely behind. It was then Sprinkles realised Dawnstrider didn’t move an inch at all. Instead, the unicorn was staring at Sprinkles in disbelief.
“Why are you still here, Sergeant? I thought I told you to move out!”
“What? With all due respect, sir, I thought you had my back.”
“Can’t you see the hail of arrows out there? It’s suicide!” Dawnstrider sadi, licking his lips.
Sprinkles was dumbfounded. “Sir, you just ordered me to go out there, knowing that it’s a suicide mission?”
Dawnstrider seemed to sweat even more, his voice cracking ever so slightly. “I’m your superior, sergeant! You will obey my commands!”
“Well, screw you too—”
“Sarge. We have a situation.” Grey Shadow pointed just as the underbrush disgorged three griffons and to their surprise, a zebra. Each wielded a blade. The quartet closed in with knives raised, malice glinting in their eyes.
“Aw, hayseed.”
Sprinkles moved quickly to intercept the nearest griffon, sending the knife flying out of his claws with a well-timed slash. Then his own spear was knocked out by a flying buck to his sides, the armour absorbing most of the force. Still hurt like hell though. He pivoted and narrowly avoided another the knife aiming for his neck. Then he jumped forward to tackle the griffon he had disarmed, hoping to knock him out of the fight and disarm him entirely. Sprinkles struggled with the griffon then delivered a solid punch to the head. The griffon slumped. He looked up to see Dawnstrider waving his broadsword about, keeping the zebra and another griffon at bay. Grey Shadow was missing yet again.
“Stars above, Captain. Use your magic!”
Dawnstrider appeared not to notice, and continued to flail away with his sword. Sprinkles opened his mouth to shout again, only to find himself face-to-face with yet another griffon attacker. His forehoof greeted the beak of the griffon, causing him to stumble and drop the dagger he was holding. Sprinkles got to his hooves and lunged at the zebra that was standing off with Dawnstrider. The two tumbled on the ground and struggled. After a brief struggle, Sprinkles slammed his head against the zebra’s causing her to stop her flailing.
“T-That’s it!” Dawnstrider shouted.
Sprinkles thought he saw a bright flash, then he noticed the sword implanted on the griffon’s head. He winced; it was a sight he was not to forget for months. Then he gaped as Dawnstrider turned tail and started to gallop away.
“Captain, wh—”
The whistle of arrows filled the air again. Dawnstrider’s back was suddenly filled with half a dozen arrow, with one piercing clean through an unprotected section of the chest piece. Dawnstrider gave a gurgle, a hoof raising to the wound in his chest. Then he collapsed without so much as a whimper.
One of the officers interrupted. “So, what you’re saying is, Dawnstrider sacrificed himself to distract the brigands? He just ran out there and shouted for the bandits to aim at him?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Sprinkles hoped he sounded sincere.
Lt Ironhide tapped her hoof. “That sounds very... foolish.”
“It was a desperate moment, ma’am. Desperate times calls for desperate measures, as they say. I believe Captain Dawnstrider did what he thought was best.”
Lt Ironhide seemed unimpressed. “Very well. What happened then?”
Sprinkles could only stare in shock as the “valiant” Captain slumped to the ground. Fortunately enough, a flicker of movement in the corner of his eyes brought him back to reality. He ducked in time to avoid a griffon slashing his claws at his vulnerable neck. A swift buck brought the griffon to his knees.
“Sarge! You might want to cover ya eyes!” Grey Shadow’s voice came from somewhere. Sprinkles blinked and did as he was told. Even through the cover of his eyelid, he could sense the presence of a very intense light illuminating the area. He opened his eyes to see a glow orb high in the sky, already dimming rapidly. Sprinkles looked around to realise that most of the griffons were now on the floor, writhing and covering their own eyes. A grin forced itself onto his face.
“Brilliant idea, son.”
“Don’t laugh yet, sarge. There’s still a few more,” Lemongrass said as he emerged from the underbrush with the two merchant griffons in tow. His mane was a total mess and his armour looked like it had been dragged through the archery range.
“Let’s finish this.”
“I see. What of the surviving bandits?”
Sprinkles allowed himself a small smile. “All in all, we managed to capture twelve of them. The merchants proved surprisingly handy. The attackers were later identified as members of the Deep Tail Band, a newly established bandit group that previously operated within the Griffon Empire. Apparently this was an advance party to see if they could expand their operations here. Safe to say, they aren’t keen to try again for the foreseeable future.”
Another officer spoke, “How about the family?”
“They have been informed.”
“Very good, sergeant, I see you have not neglected your duties.” Sprinkles blinked. There was an odd edge to Lt Ironhide’s voice.
Sprinkles sighed as he trotted up the immaculately kept lawn. Dawnstrider lived in a pretty fancy house, the sergeant had to admit. He dreaded this part of the job. He lost a member of his squad only once prior to this. The family had been inconsolable, and their grief had left him feeling hollow for weeks afterwards. Still, duty was duty. He knocked on the pastel door smartly and then settled down to wait.
After a few minutes, the door creaked open, the blue face of a young filly looking up at him.
“Yes, mister?”
“Is Mrs Bloom in?”
“My mom? Yea she is.” The filly turned and called out. “Mom! Somepony in shiny armour is here to see you.”
The door opened wider to reveal the anxious face of a cyan pegasus—Dawnstrider’s own wife, Cherry Bloom. “Yes? Who are you?”
Sprinkles sighed. There would be no reason way to tell her. Instead, he bowed his head and took out a glided envelope. He quietly held out the envelope.
Cherry Bloom blinked. Then her eyes slowly misted as understanding dawned. She took the letter hesitantly, and placed it on a table next to her. “I- I didn’t expect...”
“I know, ma’am. Forgive me, I should introduce myself. I’m Sergeant Sprinkles, one of his juniors.”
Cheery Bloom sniffed and hugged her the little filly, who Sprinkles guessed to be their daughter. “D-Did... did he at least... get his wish?”
“Ma’am?” Sprinkles said, tilting his head.
“He... he always said... if he were to die, he would go out in a blaze of glory.” Sprinkles hid a wince. The memory of the captain turning away and making for the hills would forever be seared in his mind.
“He...” Sprinkles stopped as Cherry Bloom’s lilac eyes looked up at him, full of dread, hope and expectation. Then he noticed the filly looking at him as well, though hers was more of a curiosity. The sergeant suddenly felt the weight of their gaze on his shoulders.
“... Sergeant?”
Sprinkles took a deep breath. “He was a hero, ma’am. Best captain I ever seen,” he said. “He died saving our squad.”
Cherry Bloom nodded softly, her lips curled up in a sad smile. Tears begin to stream down her cheeks.
“Mommy, why are you crying?”
“I... I’ll tell you later, sweetie.”
“Where’s Daddy?” the filly asked, her innocent eyes wide with curiosity.
“Daddy... Daddy might not be coming back for awhile. Don’t you worry, he’s out there doing important jobs. Protecting Equestria.”
“I wish I could be like him one day.”
Sprinkles nudged his helmet downwards in a vain attempt to cover his own tears. “Ma’am, if there’s nothing else...”
Cheery Bloom forced another smile to her face. “Yes, Sergeant. Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Very well, Sergeant. I think this is a pretty open-and-shut case. Captain Dawnstrider shall be buried in full military honours, in accordance with his status. In addition, I believe the Princesses would bestow him additional honours for his deeds in that battle.” Lt Ironhide shuffled her papers and glanced around at her fellow officers.
“Thank you for your time, Sergeant. This tribunal is officially over.”
Sergeant Sprinkles saluted and then slowly stepped down the dais. The officers began to file out of the room, along with most of the spectators.
“One more thing, Sergeant,” Lt Ironhide’s voice said behind Sprinkles. He turned to find the steel-grey eyes of the Lieutenant staring back at him.
“I hope you understand the implications of this. This will be part of the official records from here on forward.”
Again that feeling that he was being probed. Sprinkles kept an impassive face and nodded.
Ironhide’s lips curled upwards, though her face remained stern. “Good. Some things are just never meant to be revealed.” She abruptly turned and walked away without so much a goodbye.
Sprinkles let out the breath he hadn’t realised he have been holding and trotting slowly towards the entrance.
Then he chuckled. A mirthless chuckle. “All this trouble because I can’t bring myself to tell a family that their father was a bully and a coward,” he thought aloud.
Pinkie held her sister's hoof tightly while the doctor spoke. He spoke vaguely of the disease and what had technically happened, but seemed to be avoiding the ending, the punchline. He was flowering up all the bad things with scientific jargon to distance himself and the more he talked the more worried they got. He was obviously avoiding something and if a doctor had a hard time saying something it couldn't be good. Inkie had a year's worth of experience to testify.
Seeing the impatience on their desperate faces, he decided to drop straight to the point.
"I'm sorry, but with our knowledge of the disease, we never had a case that lasted longer than five days after it hit this stage."
All the doctor could say was, "I'm sorry..." after delivering the news. For a moment Pinkie had almost hoped it was some sort of sick joke, but the look on the doctors's face spoke no clearer a truth. It was an empty hope anyways.
Her eyes had been on her sister since he started talking, looking for any emotion she could spot, so that she may comfort her immediately or even preemptively, but saw none. All she could tell was that Inkie had been staring at the yellow balloon in the corner of the room behind her. She was quietly listening to every word he said without a single reaction. She had been quiet all morning and for the past few days. In recent memory she had been less talkative and Pinkie knew it was because of the pain. So silence was what she endured. Pinkie had slept in the hospital room over night and they knew it wasn't going to be a great day, but never did she imagine this, not now, not this soon and not so little time.
As soon as she heard the life expectancy she was on, she looked down at Pinkie with a look of mild shock on her face. He left them alone in the room and in that silence. As the clock ticked on the wall, that look of shock slowly grew into one of fear and sadness. She closed her eyes and silent tears fell. She shook a little bit as her breathing became erratic, but the pain kept her from exerting herself too much. Pinkie joined her sister, her sobs being only a touch louder.
Pinkie was the only one who came to Inkie regularly. Her parents had taken Blinkie and traveled far away. Pinkie had sent out letters to find them when Inkie was diagnosed, but was unable to track them down. Sometimes, her friends would come and visit out of sympathy for Pinkie, but they were always unsure of how to react. They had only known Inkie as a patient and not as a pony who was truly "alive" so to speak. Their trips were awkward because they didn't know how to connect with her and almost every time, failed at pretending that the situation wasn't nearly as depressing as it was. So it was just her and Inkie together and alone.
Pinkie came around to see Inkie as much as she could, but couldn't always make it. Life happens sometimes and whenever it did, Pinkie would be forced to rush in late to one of their "parties," apologizing over an over. Inkie would just put on that "don't worry about me" smile and tell her that it was okay if they rescheduled. It broke her heart every time and Pinkie would promise to throw an extra fun party for her next time.
Pinkie hated that smile, the "don't worry about me" smile. Some ponies told her that a smile was a smile, but Pinkie knew a real smile from a suffering smile. Whenever Inkie was in pain, she'd put that smile on, whenever their time had to be cut short, she put that smile on and whenever Pinkie left, she put that smile on. She hated seeing that smile, more than anything. Nothing broke her heart more.
She didn't always put it on though. Sometimes Pinkie would see a real smile, the kind of smile that she lived for. They might be reading a really good book together and something completely unexpected would throw them for a loop and they'd be glued to the book, unable to put it down for hours. Pinkie Pie called that a Creeping Smile, one that slowly works it's way up your face. Sometimes Pinkie would tell her a funny story about her friends and they'd be on the floor laughing until their sides hurt. That was the what she called the Grand Smile, a smile that just keeps smiling and smiling. Yet it was nothing like the Pure Smile.
It was a smile that even Pinkie didn't see very often. It's appearance varied from pony to pony, but she knew it when she saw it. It was a sense of happiness couldn't be described.
Pinkie didn't see any of those smiles now, not even the "don't worry about me smile". They instead cried the tears that they needed and the tears Inkie rightfully deserved. Pinkie didn't like to think of sadness as a part of life, but it often was, and she wasn't going to keep it from her sister.
*
"You just forget about what that silly doctor said, okie dokie lokie?" Pinkie determinedly said through tears a few hours later, still holding her sister's hoof..
She decided that she was going to make these last few days matter. She was going to make sure that Inkie died with a great, big super funtastic smile on her face and nothing was going to stop her from finding happiness for her sister.
Inkie was sobbing heavily. Tears flowed freely from her deep amethyst eyes. She looked miserable, depressed and above all else, terrified. She listened desperately to her sister, absorbing every single word she said. She was silent for a second.
"I-I-I'm g-going to die..." Inkie finally choked out. She flung herself at Pinkie, "I'm so scared Pinkie! I don't want to go... I don't want to leave you..."
"No no no! You're gonna get lots better and we're gonna have all sorts of super fun parties, you got that little missy?" Pinkie's tone did not waver. She knew that in her heart, she needed to believe her own words for Inkie to.
Inkie's began to break down further and her timid voice fell through it. Small remnants of her usually sweet and kind voice peppered the sobs. It was heart-breaking, but Pinkie stayed strong.
"First we gotta calm down, can't have any fun with all this crying, so let's read that book you really like." As the words left Pinkie's mouth she knew how cheap they were. They had read the book in question at least thirty times. Inkie put on that smile again.
Stop it. Stop smiling like that. Smile for real.
Pinkie watched her sister cry and knew that she'd never have another real smile again. This wasn't how she wanted her to go out, depressed and suffering in a downright dreadful hospital room. So much pain had taken place in that room that she knew that if she'd stay there she'd die with a tear in her eye, a heart in pieces and that smile on her face. Spending the last few days doing the same things that she'd done for the few months wasn't happiness. Maybe she'd laugh a few times and maybe they'd play a game, but she'd still put that horrid smile on. Pinkie had to step it up, she'd need a miracle to make this work.
"Actually you wait here, I'm gonna go get a friend. I promise I'll be right back." She kissed Inkie on the forehead and wiped the tears from her eyes. They truly were gems.
Using her amazing Pinkie speed, first she dashed to Sugarcube Corner to tell the Cakes she wasn't going to be coming in all week. When they saw the usually euphoric mare, wracked with concern and worry, they didn't ask why, they knew it was important. They gave her two of their most gourmet cupcakes as she left, the cupcakes they saved only for royalty. It was their unspoken way to tell her that she could take as much time as she needed. Tearfully accepting them, she dashed out and made her way to Twilight's library.
"Twilight! Please I need your help!" Whenever Pinkie needed help, barely understood the question and had not a clue of the answer, she went to Twilight. Most ponies did.
"Oh hey Pinkie! Shouldn't you be at the hospita--" When Twilight saw Pinkie and her messy mane and tired face, she dropped the book she was levitating as her eyes grew wide. "Oh my stars...Pinkie, what's wrong? What happened? Tell me everything is okay with Inkie?!" Twilight asked frantically. Of all of Pinkie's friend's Twilight was closest to Inkie because of all the books they both read. Inkie would regularly check books out from her library.
"There's not much time. Quick I need to know if there is any possible way to make her healthy again, even for a short time..." Pinkie was unemotional and to the point.
"I've already tried everything I know. I'm sorry, there is nothing I can do... Why? What happened?"
"She... doesn't have much time left... things got worse." Pinkie was still trying to remained focused, but it wasn't easy. Thinking about her sister alone in that room waiting to die fractured her heart and resolve. "I needed to know if you could help make her remaining time, better..."
"I'm so sorry Pinkie... Give me a moment..." Twilight thoughtfully paced on the upper level of the library. Something crossed her mind. It was a curse that she had always theorized about using, yet never had the grounds to.
"I have one idea, but it isn't safe and I've never done it before. There is this curse that returns youth to a pony at the cost of half their remaining life," Twilight said heavily. She wasn't even sure that she was okay with the existence of such a spell, let alone the ability to use it, especially on one of her best friend's sisters.
"Do it." Pinkie said flatly. Pinkie knew that for a fact that two days of the best time of her life would be better than four days of bittersweet suffering.
Twilight blinked stupidly at the mare of parties. She wasn't sure if Pinkie was the best pony to make this sort of call. They were playing dice with somepony's life and the heaviest decision she ever saw Pinkie make was punch choice at her parties.
"Are you sure? Shouldn't you ask Inkie first?"
"No, we're not gonna tell her. Just come with me back to the hospital and do the spell."
"I really think we should ask her first... it's not really a simple decision..."
Pinkie let out a slow sigh. She really didn't want to argue about this.
"Twilight, what do you enjoy more? Studying your brains out all week or going on a vacation with your friends and having fun?"
Twilight considered the notion. It was a reasonable, if not overly simplistic analogy, but she still hesitated. These were some big moral questions they were talking about. The value of life and time were about as meaningful as they can get, and talking about them in such a practical way without understanding them seemed despicable. The vitality of youth for half of a pony's life? Twilight needed to more time to think, maybe there was a philosophy book she could read on the matter. Pinkie could't waste another moment.
"She's afraid Twilight... She's so afraid. Like we all are. Do you want to die? Cause I sure don't. Thinking about the dying hurts and it's all she does. If you tell her, then she'll spend these last few days afraid. She'll let it stop her from having the funnest time she can," she explained with steadfast tears. "She deserves the greatest going away party ever..."
Pinkie wasn't always the most reasonable pony, but there were a few things she understood with perfect clarity.
How to smile and how to make other's smile.
"Twilight let her think that she's getting better. She'll never smile more. I mean really, being told you're going to die in five days and then suddenly getting better, what could b-be bet-tter than that?" Twilight couldn't help but share her friend's tears. She really cared for her sister and was ready to make the deep calls alone.
Twilight couldn't in her right mind make such a meaningful decision. If she was going to do it, she should probably do it as soon as possible, but there was such a heavy conflict. It was so wrong yet so right what Pinkie was asking for.
Buck it.
"Race you to the hospital," Twilight surrendered. If anyone accused her of inappropriate use of magic than she'd just deal with it. Obviously it was important to Pinkie, so it was important to her.
Pinkie's eyes lit up and she dashed out at her usual, legendary speed. That was all she wanted, it didn't matter how long her time left was. A single day of pure happiness and hope was better than a week of suffering. Pinkie was going to get her out of that bed and on her hooves again.
Twilight knew that she only had a few seconds to beat Pinkie there. She took an old dark tome off the shelf and powered up her teleport spell. She vanished in a flash of light.
*
They stood outside Inkie's room. Twilight quickly skimmed the spell. She knew it well enough as she talked to the princess quite often about it, Celestia had invented it herself. She felt a strange level of excitement finally being able to use.
"Hey Twilight do you think you can do the spell in a way that won't be obvious?" Pinkie asked as Twilight closed the book.
Pinkie had given this a lot of thought and it was clear that Inkie was the only thing on her mind. Her ruthlessly direct mentality was actually endearing to Twilight. She wondered if Shining Armor would be able to make the hard decisions like that. Twilight smiled a solemn smile. Pinkie could read Twilight's mind through that smile.
"I'm all that she has Twilight. She needs me right now and I'm sure that if I was in her situation she'd do the same thing for me" Pinkie's cheery face fell to a bittersweetness. "I can make any pony in Ponyville smile and I can't even make my own sister smile... Some sister I am."
Pinkie let loose the weakest laugh Twilight ever heard from the Element of the Laughter.
Twilight gave her an understanding smile. "Well what about those cupcakes on your head? I could enchant those so that when she eats them the spell will be quietly set off in her. But it might take more time to set in. She wouldn't feel it until tomorrow." Twilight saw a conflict because she might want to give Inkie more youthful time at the cost of letting her know that magic has been cast on her. If they waited, then Inkie would be completely in the dark with less time.
"Enchant the cupcakes." Pinkie said, almost snapping at her. Twilight was taken back a bit. Despite the tender moment they were sharing, Pinkie had this grand plan all in her head and it seemed like she expected everypony to know what she was thinking instinctively.
"Alright miss demandy pants." Pinkie gave her a sorry look and Twilight lightened her expression.
Twilight stood back and focused. Her horn glowed it's usually purple and she felt herself stiffen. She moaned quietly in tension, mouth slightly agape. She imagined the cupcake as her target and as the spell continued, she began to choke. As if the life and magic inside her had reached a bottle neck, the energy stopped for a second. She made a few guttural noises and forced it through. A small ball of white light popped out of her mouth and into the cupcake. It flashed green as it absorbed the magics and then was still. As soon as it was over, Pinkie burst in the door.
"Look who's here!" she said cheerfully as she entered, bouncing about like her old self. Pinkie recognized Inkie's eyes and knew she had been crying while they were gone. She had a real smile on her face when she saw Twilight come in. She was the closest thing she had to a friend other than Pinkie.
"Oh hey Twilight. Come to get your book back?" Inkie asked innocently, as though she hadn't just been told that she was going to die in a few days. Nothing was wrong and her smile showed it.
"Oh no, I was just in the area and decided to drop by. Pinkie said you were having a party and it sounded like fun!" Twilight threw on her most sympathetic smile of false excitement. Amateur...
Indeed the room was almost permanently full of balloons and streamers with some portion of a small cake on the nightstand and a music player in the corner. Pinkie always did her best to bring as much of a party with her where she went, but something about this party felt old and unwanted.
"You bet," she replied weakly.
"I went down to Sugarcube Corner and Mrs. Cake gave me these super delicious cupcakes! I had one and thought, you know who would really like these? Inkie would, since you know cupcakes so well. I mean they're the best cupcakes I ever had and I know A LOT about cupcakes. So I dashed on back and ran into Twilight and now we have a super funtastic party!"
Inkie let out a fake giggle. Pinkie cringed.
"We'll see about that, I'm sure they're not better than the MMM."
Pinkie had regularly brought her work back to Inkie. Over time she had become an expert in baked goods, sampling and rating them in several different categories. It was one of the few things they shared.
"You two go ahead and eat them, I already had four and couldn't have another bite," Pinkie said to Twilight and Inkie, rubbing her tummy.
Twilight levitated a cupcake to Inkie who happily snatched it from the air and smiled. It did look really good and something about it seemed extraordinary just from the way it felt in her hooves.
"Cheers," Inkie proclaimed holding her cupcake up to Twilight's.
"Cheers." They tapped cupcakes.
They spent the rest of the night reading the best books Twilight had in her library. Laughing and smiling. Pinkie could see the life come back to Inkie's eyes. She had maybe one or two days to make this count.
*
It was a miracle. Inkie woke up the the next morning feeling like a completely different pony. More importantly, she woke up happy. She didn't feel any pain, she was full of energy and she had a crazy appetite. Pinkie was still asleep and she had cheerfully eaten the rest of that small cake on her night stand, having piece after piece. Something unexplained about it tasted incredible. She didn't understand it, but by the time she had finished it, she knew something was different. She went to shake Pinkie awake.
"Pinkie! Pinkie!"
Her eyes fluttered awake to see a great big smile on her sister's face. Instantly remembering what happened last night her hair sprung into it's normal do and she reflected her sister's expression with her own. It was time and there couldn't be a moment's hesitation.
"Oh hey Inkie! Lookin' good today!" she observed noticing the smile
"I feel great! I think that cupcake last night was the best I've ever had. Tens across the board. Nothing hurts and I have a ton of energy!" She sure was talkative to day. She looked out the window at the distant ground hopefully. "I actually kinda want to go outside..."
Her face was nervous. Pinkie's smile just kept growing and growing. She had her sister back. Even though her eyes winced with hesitation, those lavender jewels sparkled like a hidden gem and she could see the hope in them. She hadn't gotten out of bed more than once a week for the last month and now she wanted to go all the way outside. Pinkie's eyes got watery and she sniffled with pure bliss. Her smile couldn't step growing. She figuratively exploded.
"Well what are you waiting for?! Come on everypony!!!" Pinkie Pie could barely contain herself. She hadn't felt this happy in years and an almost devilish grin overcame her face.
Before Inkie could protest, Pinkie had stripped her of her hospital gown, grabbed her, tore the window open and proceeded to launch her out of it at high velocity. Inkie screamed in horror as she soared through the air. This wasn't what she had in mind when she said outside. The height was dizzying, but she could see all sorts of things from that high up, terrified of course.
Meanwhile Pinkie had set up a comically over-seized slingshot in front of the window and proceeded to launch herself out after her. It was hidden under Inkie's bed just in case of slingshot emergency.
Giggling maniacally with a snort or two interlaced, Pinkie flew after her sister. Inkie looked up at the pink mass, wondering if she had gone mad and finally snapped as soon as she told her she felt better. No, she was just being Pinkie. Pinkie pulled out her trademark party cannon and launched a giant cup of jello right under where Inkie was about to land. She bounced off it harmlessly and rebounded, hitting the ground softly. Pinkie landed right next to her a few seconds later. Inkie had a look of complete, pure astonishment on her face, shock still keeping her emotions.
"Wasn't that super duper fun?!"
This was the moment of truth, if Inkie truly had come back, then she'd show it right now. If not, then Pinkie had just launched a terminally ill hospital patient out a window at high speed from three stories up and would probably taken to jail. Inkie just said there on her back, eyes wide as dish plates trying to absorb what just happened. For a moment, Pinkie thought she might need to take her back there, but then her face creaked.
Slowly her mouth began to curve upwards, leading to a very fulfilling "Creeping Smile". The smile then turned into chuckle, ending in a rollicking laughter. A "Grand Smile" too? Pinkie still had it.
"Can we do that again?!" Inkie asked excitedly.
"Nope! Cause now you haveta follow me to Sugarcube Corner for some more super delicious treats!" Pinkie exclaimed. Pinkie began to trot slowly towards her favourite place, leading only a few inches in front of Inkie.
Inkie carefully watched her legs as she walked. Normally she was too weak for any kind of physical activity. She had a terrible feeling that something was going to go wrong and that she'd wake back up in her bed.
Her trampling hooves beneath her began to beat to her heart. She picked up the pace and let them carry her to speeds she had never attained before. She didn't know what was going on but her heart told her to run as fast as she could and she wasn't going to let it down.
The wind in her face, the ground speeding by beneath her, she ran and ran. Unable to stop, not wanting to stop, she was free from that room and would never go back. A few tears left her eyes, already far behind her. Pinkie also let tears behind them in the wind as her sister picked up speed.
"Race you!" Inkie shouted.
"You're so on!
Two streaks of giggling colour, one pink, the other grey, dashed through Ponyville at breakneck speeds. They ran freely over obstacles, jumping from one house to a carriage to the statue in the middle of the town square to where ever they wanted. It was freedom of all movement. Not only was she boundless of her health, but also her heart and mind. The recovery made no sense, but she wasn't about to argue with fate. Pinkie had always told her to seize the day whenever she had the energy so she did so.
When arrived at Sugarcube corner in a cloud of dust and calmly walked in.
"I won!" Inkie said triumphantly, panting lightly.
"No way I won!'
From the bakery a familiar voice rang out.
"Pinkie is that you? I thought you weren't coming in--" Mr. Cake stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Inkie. The two mares in front of him had enormous smiles on their faces and were they the same colour, he wouldn't have known the difference. "Well lookie here! It looks like somepony is feeling better isn't she?"
"Mmhhhmm!!"
"Yup I gave her that cupcake and she woke up feeling like a million bits!" Pinkie explained happily.
"Well those Royal Cupcakes are quite special. Takes a week to make just one."
"Royal Cupcakes?" Inkie asked curiously.
"Yeah they're the special ones we make only for the princesses."
"Hmm maybe they're magic and have magical healing powers," Pinkie slyly mused.
"That would explain why the Princesses live forever! All thanks to cupcakes!" Inkie suggested.
"That's what I've been trying to tell everypony forever now!"
They all laughed heartily at that.
"So what can I get you today?" Mr. Cake asked wiping down the counter and then gesturing to their diverse menu and storefront.
Pinkie nodded at Inkie and she trotted up to the counter.
"Do you still have that carrot cake you made awhile back? The one with the lemons and apples on top?"
"You betcha." He went back into the bakery and returned with a small green cake, adorned with apple wedges and lemon designs around the sides of it. He carefully put it on top of her head and she smiled.
"Thanks Mr. Cake I'll probably be around later, if not, see you next Monday!" Pinkie called out as the left.
"No problem Pinkie, you two have a good day!"
They both trotted out into the sunlight. It was a bright morning, ponies were going about their business. They had the whole day together. Pinkie racked her insanely quick mind for ideas of what to do. Needed to keep it high energy.
"So what now? Inkie asked, excitedly. Now that Pinkie saw her in the light, her sister's mane and coat hadn't seen a proper grooming for longer than she can remember. Even though her brighter persona had definitely brought out the glistening of her eyes, the rest of her still looked like it belonged in the hospital. Yes that means Rarity. Anyways, Rarity was always a lot of fun to be around.
"I have an idea! Let's go see Rarity! Since you're feeling a lot better you need to look the part. My friend Rarity can make any pony look like a star!"
They dashed over to the boutique in a similar fashion. Inkie used to be very concerned with her appearance and as she got sicker Pinkie did her best to make her feel pretty, but it neither fixed nor returned the beauty she once had. Pinkie knew that this would be important to her.
Rarity was busy designing scarves in the front when the entry bell sounded, alerting her to someone entering her store.
"Welcome to Carousel Boutique! Where everything is chic. uni--Inkie?!" Rarity gasped as she saw the grey mare. Pinkie gave her a death stare which Rarity caught onto quickly enough. She didn't want everypony treating her like a hospital patient. "What are--can I do for you?" Nice save Rarity.
"Well it's been forever since she's gotten a makeover and we know how much you love doing that," Pinkie explained. Inkie just blushed shyly.
"Well it's not like I just give anypony a makeover! I require inspiration, imagery and an unfound muse."
"Rarity, you pretty much give a makeover to any pony who hasn't showered in twelve hours or uses multiple mane care products..."
Rarity scoffed at that. It was true though. It was in her heart to make everypony look the best they could.
"And what of it?!" Rarity sized up Inkie and a whiff of interest came over her face. "Darling is your mane naturally that straight?"
"Uhhm... yes ma'am," she replied still bashful. This beautiful unicorn who probably had colt after colt chasing her was starting to look at her with real interest.
"Your colours while some may consider dreadfully dull actually..." she trailed off. Pinkie waited for it and there it was, the glint in Rarity's eyes followed by her trademark. "IIIIDEEAAA!! Come with me darling, I must create!!!"
A precious hour later, Inkie emerged from the depths of the boutique looking radiant and gorgeous. Her mane was clean and cut, without a hair out of place, her coat was shiny and rejuvenated. She was wearing these strange striped legging things that matched her eyes perfectly. Noticing her sister's confusion as she looked at her legs, Inkie clarified.
"Rarity calls them socks. They're super comfy and--"
"Look absoulutely smashing!" Rarity cut her off, brimming with pride over her new creation. "Quite the stroke of genius if I say so myself. Inkie inspired me. Her look has these curved yet straight lines," Rarity pointed to the curvature of the lines in her mane and tail. "And I just had to catch that illusion elsewhere."
"So I put them around the leg and voila! And no deary, there not just called socks. They're called Inkie Socks," Rarity said with a wink. Inkie blushed and fiddled her new legging-covered hooves.
"You look great sister!" Pinkie really thought so. Yesterday her sister had been an emotional wreck, which while understandable, still wasn't a good thing. Now that she stood there, it felt like Inkie had stopped being that sick mare in the bed and was her sister and best friend again. One that she'd invite to parties, hang out with after work and had a normal life with. They used to do that before she was sick. Pinkie was always closer with Inkie and when they worked back on that rock farm, she was the only friend she had.
Inkie's face turned even redder as they piled praise on her.
"Darling you better watch your rump, I'm sure every stallion in Ponyville will have his eyes on you." Rarity added raising an eyebrow at her with a mischievous grin.
"Oh stop it you two." Her face was now fully scarlet.
"Come now Pinkie, we're embarrassing the poor thing. In all honesty Inkie you are a doll of a mare and it was my pleasure. Drop by anytime you like and we can catch up on fashion and maybe venture to the spa," Rarity concluded as she saw a groups of mares enter the shop out of the corner of her eye. "Welcome to Carousel Bouti--"
Rarity went to greet her new customers which happened to be a bride and her bridesmaids so Inkie and Pinkie decided to sneak out to avoid the chaos set to ensue.
Pinkie smiled bitterly as she recalled Rarity's offer. If only she knew.
"Where to next Pinkie?" Inkie asked cheerfully.
Pinkie snapped back into the fun mindset. "Let's go find Rainbow Dash! She's always super fun!"
Almost as if on cue, a rainbow streak flashed across the sky in the distance. Pinkie watched the streak closely. She was 1044 meters away moving at 170 KPH at 189 degree from the origin. Target acquired. Pinkie shook violently as she calculated the firing solution. Inkie looked at her sister with a skeptical but curious smile.
"Come on Inkie I'm gonna teach you a little thing called Pinkie Running..." Pinkie finally said.
Pinkie grabbed her sister by the hoof and stuffed her into the party cannon. It was larger on the inside than it was on the outside and they could both stand up on what Inkie though to be the bottom of it. Pinkie jumped in after her and they both stood there in darkness for a few seconds. Inkie could sense Pinkie flailing around.
"Quick Inkie! Do the chicken dance!" Pinkie's voice called out through the darkness.
Inkie giggled and started doing the iconic dance. She had no idea what was going on, but it was fun. They danced in complete darkness like a couple of crazy chickens before they fell out of the bottom of it out into open sky. Before them, grinding to a halt, was a very startled Rainbow Dash. The two earth ponies were floating in mid-air, seemingly held up by the chicken dance. She just looked stupidly from one sister to the other.
"Heya Dashie! Whatcha up to?"
"I could ask you the same question..." Rainbow's mouth was agape.
"Just hangin out! Hey do you think you can show my sister Inkie your sonic rainboom?!"
"Uhh yeah sure. Let me just get up to speed." Rainbow recovered, always ready for an excuse to show off.
As she flew up high to prepare for her legendary trick, Inkie took in her surroundings. It was an stellar view. She could see the entirety of Ponyville and the surrounding country side, the sun was high in the sky and Inkie saw a bird fly past her, almost close enough to touch. It was exhilarating. Inkie had never flown before, but her arms were getting tired from dancing and she was getting nervous at the idea of falling.
"Pinkie, I'm getting sort of tired How do we get down?"
"We fall!" Pinkie grabbed her sister and hugged her tight. Immediately they both plummeted towards the ground.
Inkie screamed at the top of her lungs while Pinkie laugh maniacally as the fell through the sky. With only seconds to live Rainbow Dash heard the scream and sighed. Pinkie Pie could have just asked. Annoyed she exploded with all her strength after the two falling ponies.
Inkie watched the ground in sheer terror as it got closed in on her at an uncomfortable speed. Pinkie seemed to be completely calm with what was transcending, relatively speaking, but Pinkie would probably have been comfortable telling a dragon jokes about how fat he was. She actually yawned as they fell to their death. Inkie's eyes grew wide as the she fell with a hundred feet of the ground. Inkie hoped that she was really just being Pinkie Pie right now, because if she wasn't that would be a horrible stroke of luck.
Being rather fatalistic about the situation, Inkie patched some strange mix between a death scream and an ironic laugh.
Pushing easily through the sound barrier, a sonic rainboom exploded behind Rainbow Dash as she caught the sisters only a few yards from the ground. The dazzling colours evoked distant cheers from Ponyville. She did flyover, waving at all her adoring fans. Inkie was just screaming in terror. She flew them up high into the sky as they soared at mach speeds. Inkie was still screaming at the top of her lungs, but this time, out of pure euphoric thrill. She was moving way, way, way too fast.
"WOOOOO!" she hollered out as they went into a spiraling drop. Her newly styled mane was getting messy but she didn't care.
*
Rainbow Dash dropped them off after a few minutes of her sonic joyride. She had done flips, drops, corkscrews and every single trick she could think of. Inkie's cheering egged her on to greater and showier tricks. Pinkie Pie asked her to set them on a massive cliff that over saw Ponyville. Rainbow was humbly showering the usual amount of praise on herself while she did so.
"Heh, you should see me when I really get going Inkie. It's pretty awesome," Rainbow said to the now terrified mare.
Inkie was strapped to Rainbow Dash, eyes still wide and mane blown back. Pinkie thought they'd have to pry her off but, when Inkie saw the ground, she loosened up a bit, if only to tell Rainbow that she was ready to get off. She slowly approaching stuck her hoof out trying to reach it, almost unsure if it was really going to be there. She probably spent thirty seconds waggling her arm at the earth.
"Hey you okay there?" Rainbow gave Pinkie a triumphant look. She had literally flow this mare out of her mind.
Inkie didn't even hear her, she just wanted to touch the ground. Finally she felt the dirt beneath and proceeded to put all her weight on that one hoof, promptly falling over. She curled up into a fetal position, indulging in the sanctity of physical stability, stroking her tail in self-comfort. She laid there for a few minutes while the friend's watched her nervously.
Pinkie actually thought she might have gone overboard. Rainbow did do a pretty long ride and at sonic speeds, the g-force is unholy. Inkie finally cracked a grin. It was slow at first, but she let it take her and it snowballed into hysterical laughter. At what, she couldn't explain. Pinkie followed her lead and Rainbow Dash shortly after that.
"I think I just had an epiphany," Inkie started, calming down and sitting up. "I think... you just broke my mind Rainbow Dash."
"Broke your mind?" They asked in unison.
"Yeah, I can't explain it but I think I just snapped."
They looked at each other nervously
"Is that a good thing?" Her sister was slightly concerned.
"It's a great thing! You guys broke my mind free. I snapped out of it everything I previous understood. I wish I could explain it better, but I feel like I understand you completely Pinkie..." She looked deep into her sister's eyes. "Every bizarre thing you do, it's just... utterly brilliant. I feel like the boundaries of reality no longer exist when I see things your way."
She stepped out onto the edge of the cliff and looked down at the town. Tiny specks busily moving like ants occupied her eyes while she spoke. They other's were silent.
"You remember how Pa told us that out of rocks you can make anything? That out of earth and from the earth you were given everything?"
"Of course. That's why we had a rock farm." Pinkie was thoughtful when it came to her family.
"He told us the wisest pony would learn to make everything. But I don't think that's true anymore."
Inkie never once crossed her father. Something must have clicked and changed her fundamentally. Pinkie listened closely, heart wide open. Inkie turned back to her, those eyes piercing straight through her, as if they already knew every secret she had.
"He wanted to makes all things. But you Pinkie... You were different from the rest of us. You weren't content with material things or "
"You wanted to make all things possible. And now that I understand you, I know you can do it."
She was speaking from a different part of her heart. Pinkie had come to know the sadness that lurked inside her sister and for awhile she had thought it had taken her completely. But as she spoke now, Pinkie learned she preserved part of herself, untouched by sickness. She had sealed away her hope and kept it safe while the disease ravaged the rest of her.
"No tool, medicine or earthbound thing could have healed me. I'm not even sure if I truly am better, but I certainly feel it and that's all thanks to you Pinkie."
"Awww sis... I'm just looking out for ya!" They went to hug. Rainbow had already snuck away from the exchange. Lovey feely things weren't her thing.
Looking deep into her sister's cool eyes, a flicker of an idea crossed her mind. A fleeting thought in one of the many thoughts she had each second since her mind started racing. That flicker grew into a massive flash screaming "GO" over and over again. The idea was absurd, mad, chaotic and completely unreasonable. Something that she would do without hesitation. Usually something sacred kept such ideas from sounding so enticing, but that 'something' wasn't there.
The entire day had been something of a dream and it wasn't even half over yet. Magical, unexplainable, a joy ride from one excitement to another with the sister she loved. No more pretending to be happy, no more fake smiles, no more lonely hospital rooms and no more fear. The dream was going to keep going until the bitter end. She still couldn't believe she was about to do this.
She kissed her sister.
Their tender lips sharing eternal paradise together. The euphoria surged through both of them as their hearts pounded in unison. They weren't sure why they did it and had several hundred reasons why not to do it, but not the doubt of the world drifted near them. It was neither romantic nor completely platonic, is was a love that manifested out of purity itself. They merely enjoyed each other so much that a kiss was another pleasure they sought and took.
Inkie had absorbed Pinkie's essence and nature over the last few months because of her complete immersion in the joyful mare. Pinkie thought she had been the one reading into Inkie, but Inkie had actually perceived much farther into her. She watched without understanding, without the key to make sense of her, knowing only that whatever she did, she was happy. Something that Inkie was not.
She wanted to be like Pinkie, to be happy and to bring happiness to other, like she had brought to her. Her sickness held her back, but now she could release the soul that Pinkie had poured into her to understand the mare who would do anything for a friend. Pinkie never had somepony to confide in until this point, but she gladly let Inkie into her heart and mind.
She understood the greater meaning of the things Pinkie did, things that other ponies would write off on her as "Just being Pinkie Pie." It defied definition, the beauty of her acts. Now Inkie had plunged into this new world of seeing things through Pinkie's eyes. She was scared of it, there was just so much to do, so much to see. It was bright, daunting, confusing and vaguely smelled of cotton candy. Kissing her now let Inkie briefly see those worlds and cried when she saw the paradise Pinkie had found. She couldn't wait to get out and experience the grandeur of life so that she may find herself there as well.
Despite being legal sisters, the natural boundaries did not stand between them. Pinkie was obviously adopted. She shared little in common with any other member of her family and was of no colour combination anywhere in her adopted family's traceable genetic history. But that's not important.
They pulled away from the magical kiss.
"I never knew..." Inkie said tearfully. She had seen the world how it should be.
"You understand now?" Pinkie had cried with her. She merely nodded her head and kissed her again. She wanted to see more of the paradise and Pinkie obliged her sweet friend's request.
*
News of Inkie's recovery travels fast through a certain sterling unicorn. Pinkie and Inkie had spent the rest of the afternoon on that cliff. It was getting late now and the sun had almost dipped below the horizon. Inkie was understanding everything that made Pinkie Pie, Pinkie Pie, the bouncing, the physics bending, the cheerful disposition. Seeing things through her eyes was intoxicating. Whenever she wasn't sure of something, she'd kiss her and through her, see the answer. They weren't sure what to call each other in this new relationship. They were sisters and that would never change, but they weren't entirely lovers. It felt more like the were partners, the last two of their kind in the world who stuck together because of their unnatural connection.
Pinkie wasn't sure if Inkie was cured or not, but something in her heart told her that she was. A type of healing had happened that was neither magic nor material. Inkie had found the hope of happiness. She stared into the world with wide eyes, knowing that paradise was only a hop or physics breaking speed record away.
"Can you believe it?" Inkie stared off into the setting sun at the edge of the cliff.
Pinkie slowly walked up from behind her sister and nuzzled her neck.
"Believe what?"
"Yesterday a doctor told me I was going to die in a week." Inkie's face was solemn. "Do you think I will?"
Pinkie was silent. She had been avoiding this specific elephant in the room all day, for good reason. The dream wasn't going to end now. Pinkie wouldn't let it. But a creeping feeling sunk into her. She knew her sister's time could be over any moment now.
Inkie took that silence for the truth it was. She went to kiss Pinkie.
"I love you. You've done so much for me Pinkamena Diane Pie." Inkie let several tears drops. "I'm not afraid anymore."
She took a step towards the edge of the cliff. It was obvious what she planned to do. She wanted to end things on her terms.
"Inkie?! What are you doing?! You just found hope, a reason to live!" Pinkie pleaded. Tears flowed freely from her eyes.
She smiled softly, eyes sparkling, full of hope. Pinkie knew that smile. It was the 'don't worry about me smile' but she only just recognized. It was her sister's Pure Smile. Pinkie nearly broke down upon seeing it. Inkie had been happy while she was sick, health had nothing to do with. She was just happy to be with her sister.
Pinkie knew her sister's time would be up soon, but a part of her didn't want to believe it.
"I didn't just find hope, I've had it my entire life..." She put her hoof on Pinkie's heart, then kissed her one last time.
*
Applejack had planned a hoedown in celebration of Inkie's amazing recovery. She sent Rainbow Dash to fetch them and bring them down to the barn. As much as she searched and searched for the sisters she couldn't find them. When she checked the cliff she only found Inkie's torn sock.