The Life and Times of a West Hoof Cadet

This was one of the few times I could study without interference. My usually loud and rambunctious bunk mate, who had the habit of wandering in at zero-dark-thirty, was absent tonight, probably having sneaked off of campus to one of the many clubs around Canterlot. Thank Celestia, I could use the time to catch up on my assignments.

It was a long standing tradition for Kickers to seek their higher learning at West Hoof and I am no exception. Especially so after my parents found out about my special talent. To be honest, I had almost always defaulted to the role of moderator in disputes between friends and family members so a career in psychology was a natural progression not to mention the fact that the Royal Guard always had need for well-trained and dedicated psychologists to evaluate and monitor the unfortunate Guardsponies who came back from what few conflicts there were with a bit of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. As such, I was fairly confident in my career security.

Provided, of course, I could pass my classes.

It wasn't that I was failing. In fact, my marks were quite good despite the heavy course load. Unfortunately, because of my aforementioned bunk mate, I had fallen behind and was now flailing to catch up.

Speaking of the Nightmare, drunken singing coming down the hall, supplemented by the occasional thump against a wall, announced my bunk mate’s return. The doorknob rattled and a bout of quiet swearing occurred before the door was flung open and the pegasus stumbled through.

“Heeeyy! 'Sup Windy,” she crowed as she wandered in, kicking the door shut behind her.

I checked the alarm clock on my desk. “You're back early.”

The stench of alcohol emanating from the mare was so strong that I felt myself become a little lightheaded. She paused for a moment, having some trouble remembering which bed was hers. I couldn't see what the trouble was. My side of the room was very neat and orderly. Everything was in its proper place, the bed was always made, the desk was always tidy, and the floor was always swept. Her side was a wreck and often looked like her wardrobe had vomited onto her bed. Books were carelessly tossed about and things were scattered to the four winds. The entire scene served as a physical display of our contrasting natures.

She finally decided which was her bed and climbed up. I expected her to immediately put head to pillow and pass out but she still seemed to have some of her mental facilities intact. She slowly turned and lay down facing me.

“Watchadoin'?”

I took up my quill again. “Studying. That's where you open the book and read the information inside.”

She snorted. “Don need ta studee. I already know everthin'.”

It was true. Despite the fact that she never studied, never completed an assignment, and was rarely awake through a lecture, she always managed to pull in marks that were equal to, and often better than, my own. It was something I simply didn't understand.

“Hey, Windy, you know what we should do?”

“What's that,” I asked, not really listening.

“We should go out.”

My quill fell from my slack jaw. Had she just said what I thought she said? “Excuse me?”

“Y'know, go out, meet some stallions, get bucked up, maybe get some. With me as your wingmare, you could get any stallion in the city. Or mare, if that's what you're in to. Trust me, some banging would do wonders towards chilling you out. Not to mention, you're not a bad-looking mare. You need to lose about five pounds but, once you do, you'll look only slightly worse than me.”

My jaw fell slack for the second time in as many minutes, “Did you just call me fat?”

“No, not fat. It's just the freshmare fifteen. You know how it is.”

I was surprised my jaw hadn't broken when it hit the floor, “What the buck, Nimbus? Where do you get off calling me fat?”

“No, no, I swear to Celestia!”

I hopped down from my chair and went over to the bed, retrieving the pillow. Armed with the fluffy weapon, I proceeded to beat the infuriating mare into submission. Nimbus squealed and kicked, trying to escape or at least defend herself. Finally, she rolled off of the bed and onto the floor, the impact shaking the entire room.

“What in the name of Luna is going on in here!”

The voice cut like a blade and I immediately got off of Nimbus, dropped the pillow, kicked it under the bed and hoped that she didn't notice as I snapped to attention. Beside me, Nimbus did much the same.

“Instructor Line, ma'am, this cadet was repaying an insult from Cadet Gust through Juris Ungula!”

Hard Line cocked her head. “And what was the nature of the insult, Cadet Kicker?”

“Ma'am, she called me fat, ma'am!”

Line actually smiled, which was almost unheard of for the mare, “However grave the insult, Cadet, Juris Ungula was outlawed five hundred years ago. I will not have illicit activities of any sort occurring under my watch. Is that clear?”

“Ma'am, yes ma'am.” I snapped off a salute.

“And Cadet Gust...” Her muzzle wrinkled, “...have you been drinking?”

“Ma'am, no ma'am.” Nimbus' salute was slightly sloppier.

“Why do I smell alcohol?”

“That would be my new acne treatment, ma'am.” I responded promptly.

“You don't have acne, Cadet Kicker.”

“Ma'am, no ma'am. They say an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure, ma'am.”

There was a physical sensation to the disbelief in Hard Line's stare. “Rack up,” she commanded. “Lights out!”

“Ma'am, yes ma'am!” We chorused. I retrieved the pillow and we climbed into our beds.

“Cadet Gust, I expect this room to be spotless before First Inspection tomorrow or you will have Latrine Duty until I say otherwise.”

“Ma'am, yes ma'am.”

“Good night, cadets,” Hard Line called as she shut off the lights.

“Good night, ma'am.”

As soon as the door had shut and Line's hoof beats faded away, Nimbus said to me. “Thanks for sticking up for me.”

“That was the last time.”

“I hear you. We don't have class tomorrow, right?”

“No. No classes.”

“Then, after I clean up, I'm going to take you out. My treat, whaddaya say?”

“I was wanting to get some work done.”

Nimbus snorted. “Buck that!”

I sighed and settled a little deeper into my covers. “Why not? I need a break.”

“Awesome. I know this great bar we can go to, lotsa stallions and mares. Sooooo… much... eye... candeeee!”

That was the great thing about West Hoof. Saturdays and Sundays were free days for students to tend to assignments, work out, or just unwind and they usually came with implied leave privileges. Short of really bucking up, cadets could do what they pleased on the weekends. Generally, it was a good idea. It allowed the cadets to blow off steam and kept them out of trouble with the implied threat of losing those precious leave privileges. Therefore, I knew we could leave campus without fear of incurring the wrath of the Instructors.

Ponies assumed that, because West Hoof was a military academy, it was a strict, regimen-driven environment. It was surprisingly loose and cadets were left to their own devices for the most part. Of course, there were lectures that had to be attended and exercises to be completed. West Hoof was a military school, after all. The cadets were training for careers with the Guard but the Instructors had enough world-wisdom to realize that the cadets were little more than teenagers, still with their natural rebellious streak firmly ingrained, and let them have the freedom to do as they pleased within reason, of course.

I rolled over and tucked the blankets beneath my chin as I shut my eyes.

“Hey, Wind?”

“Yeah?”

“You're alright. I don't care what the other cadets say, you're awesome in my book.”

“What do the other cadets say, Nimbus?”

“'Night,” she replied before going silent.

“Nim, seriously, what do the other cadets say?”

x----x

It wasn't a surprise to see what Nimbus could do when she set her mind to the task. With only a bit of prodding from me, she had her half of the room clean and ready for inspection in record time and Instructor Line was more than happy to grant us leave of campus to go out into the city, provided we were back in time for curfew and final inspection.

Despite the fact that we were out of uniform, our mane styles proclaimed our origins and some of the ponies we passed by gave us a wide berth. West Hoof cadets had a reputation for being rambunctious when granted weekend leave and none lived up to this reputation better than Nimbus Gust. It was hard to believe that she, of all ponies, would choose West Hoof for her higher learning. I brought this up to her.

“I didn't.” She explained. “That was Dad. My first choice was Duke Polaris but he wanted his daughter to make something of herself and he thought the Guard would be the perfect opportunity for me to straighten up and fly right.”

It made sense that she would want to attend Polaris, it was a known party school and, while it turned out the occasional gems, it was still a party school and little was thought of those who graduated from there. “Good thing he sent you here, eh?”

“By hook or by crook,” Nimbus responded with little enthusiasm.

“You don't agree?”

“I'm not Guardpony material. I mean, hay you've seen me! I'm too much of a free spirit to spend my time taking orders from screaming commanders and, Sweet Celestia, can you imagine what I would be like in a commanding role?”

“Given what you normally act like, that would be something terrible.”

“Exactly! I'm not a Guardspony and I never will be and here we are.”

The sign over the door of the building we stopped at read The Moondancer. I knew of this place. “A fillyfooler bar?”

“You got anything against fillyfoolers?”

It was the ultimate uncomfortable question. “No, but I thought we were going to find some stallions? Besides, you never struck me as a fillyfooler.”

“Nimbus Gust does not deny herself to anypony, regardless of sex,” she said with an arrogant smirk.

I rolled my eyes. “You really are something, Nimbus.”

She snorted and pushed the door open. Despite the early hour, the bar was still open. Actually, I had heard this bar never really closed. A local band played loud music as several mares danced. In one corner, I could see a couple, both mares, wildly groping each other while engaged, with an obscene degree of gusto, in trying to eat each others heads. Nimbus led me to the bar, where most of the stools were occupied.

“Hey!” She called out.

Several mares turned to look. “Nimby,” they chorused.

She exchanged high-hoofs with them as she strutted to a pair of open stools while I followed quietly in her wake, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. I had been honest when I had told Nimbus I had nothing against fillyfoolers but that didn't mean they didn't make me uncomfortable. To be honest, any attention I received tended to make me uncomfortable.

Unfortunately, my efforts were in vain.

“Nimby, who's this curvy little shadow of yours?”

“Fillies, meet Windy. She's my main mare up at West Hoof.”

A unicorn with a white coat and lavender mane pouted. “I thought I was your main mare.”

“Aww, is Velvet's feewings hurt,” Nimbus mocked. “Don't worry, I still wuv 'oo.”

A beautiful unicorn mare rested her fore-knees against the bar. “Waddleya have, Nim?”

“The usual, Tipsy.”

“One Rainbow's Revenge, comin' up. And your friend?”

I hesitated. I had never really been in a bar of any sort, mostly because I had never really been a drinker. However, social customs dictate... “I'll have whatever she's having.”

“You sure about that? Revenge isn't for first-timers,” Nimbus warned.

“I'm hardly a first-timer.” I replied.

“And a Rainbow's Revenge for the cutie.” Tipsy, noticing my blush, gave me a wink.

I felt a foreleg snake behind my neck, “So, sweetheart, ya gotta name?”

I turned to the pink-maned mare next to me. “Wind Kicker.”

“Well Wind, what do you say you and I get a little better acquainted-”

Nimbus leaned past me to address the mare. “Hooves off, Redheart. She's not interested.”

“I think Wind is a big filly and can speak for herself.” Redheart shot back.

I gave the mare a kind smile. “I'm afraid she's right, er 'Redheart' was it? I'm not that kind of filly.”

“Oh, you say that now, but just wait.” She began to stroke my chest with a hoof. “I'm sure it's just because you haven't experienced what a mare can do.”

“I'm warning you, Red,” Nimbus growled.

“Buck off, Nim.”

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” Tipsy had returned with our drinks, “Mind your manners, Red, or I'll put ya out.”

“But, Tips-”

“'But, Tips' nothin'. I let ya get away with a lot of horseapples around here but I won't have ya makin' anypony uncomfortable in my bar.”

“I don't hear her complaining.”

“That's because she's too polite to tell ya off.” Tipsy set our drinks down.

Redheart snorted but let go of me. “Nag,” she muttered.

“That's it!” Tipsy shoved Redheart off of her bar stool. “Ya've had enough, Red. Kick rocks and don't come back until you're sober and can remember your manners. I know your mother taught ya better than to be a pain in the plot.”

Redheart muttered a few more obscene comments before gathering the tattered remains of her pride and strutting for the door with her nose in the air. “Dunno what I was thinking, hanging out in a dive bar like this.”

“Keep running that mouth of yours, Red, and see if I let ya into this 'dive bar' again.”

The door slammed shut behind the mare and Tipsy let out a sigh. “Don't mind Red,” she said to me, her ears folding back as she gave an embarrassed smile. “Normally, she's not nearly that bad. Things have been rough for her.”

“What's got her tail in a knot,” Nimbus asked, taking a sip from her drink.

“Med school's getting pricey and her mom's in a really bad way. She's convinced herself that she has to choose between her future and her family.” Tipsy explained, moving to a sink at the other side of the bar to wash a few glasses. “But that's no excuse for how she acted and, like I said I don't want anypony feeling uncomfortable in my bar. Lemme make it up to ya.”

“That's not necessary.” I assured her.

“All the same, I feel bad about Red pickin' on ya. Drinks are on the house.”

“Yay,” Nimbus cheered.

“Not for you, Nim. I have a feelin', if I started givin' ya free drinks, ya'd put me in the poorhouse.”

Nimbus shrugged. “At least I don't have to pay for the booze she'll pour down her throat. My coin purse thanks you.”

I studied my untouched drink. The Rainbow's Revenge was appropriately named. Different liquors had been expertly layered to appear to be a literal glass of rainbow, but the colors were wrong. The only way I could describe it would be that the colors were the exact negative of the actual colors of the spectrum and varied from a oily black to a sickening yellow. I was getting nauseous just looking at it.

“Better drink up,” Nimbus advised. “If you let the layers mix, they can be poisonous.”

“You're serving poisonous cocktails here,” I asked Tipsy.

The barmare smiled, “That's just Nim bein' Nim. Though, she's half right. The taste is pretty awful if the layers mix.”

I don't know what possessed me. Normally, if I drink, I'm a very careful drinker, slowly sipping mine while eating a lot. However, this time, I simply opened my mouth and poured the concoction in.

For a moment, I felt nothing. A shiver shot up and down my spine several times and I could feel a slow warmth spreading outwards from my stomach. That warmth quickly became a burning sensation as my vision seemed to twist and warp.

Nimbus grinned at me. “I told you so.”

My world began to tilt crazily. I could hear Tipsy but she sounded far off.

“And down she goes.”

I fell backwards off of my stool, hit the ground, and blacked out.