Epilogue: The Pony Who Gave Her All

I looked through the list again, to make certain that I had not forgotten anything. Everything on the list had the initial of who would receive it. Everything on the list used to belong to Nimbus.

This was really Tornado's work, but, seeing as my brother was incapacitated at the moment, I had to step in and distribute what was left of his late wife's possessions.

Nimbus and Tor had a falling out shortly after Cloud's unceremonious, unexpected, and unofficial discharge from the service. They agreed that some time apart would benefit the both of them. She had taken their youngest, Alula, and moved to Ponyville and he had stayed on the Compound to tend to his duties as Paterfamilias.

Years passed and it didn't look like my brother and my friend would get back together. Of course, I couldn't blame him. Nimbus wasn't the mare he had fallen in love with. She was darker, harsher, and never expressed how she truly felt. Some days, I hardly recognized her.

Still, every once in a while, I would catch a flash of the old Nimbus Gust. The one who would sneak off of campus to drink away the night and chase both stallions and mares in the name of having a good time. For the briefest of moments, Nim would be back.

I looked up towards the wall and saw the family portrait that had been taken a year before. My attention was drawn to her, standing to my immediate left and holding Alula in a foreleg. In her eyes was that same spark I had only seen occasionally since West Hoof. A look of contentment tempered with age and wisdom and here, holding her daughter, was a genuine smile, not the polite front she often presented.

I set the list down and sighed heavily, reaching up with a hoof to rub at my eyes. This was all too much. What had been a simple search and rescue had turned recovery when we were alerted that Cloud had found Nimbus. The most obvious wound, the opened throat, had been the one that had caused her death. However, there were other wounds, marks that had been expertly placed to cause as much pain as possible.

Before her death, Nimbus had been tortured.

I felt myself tense with anger as I imagined her last days. Terrified, alone, and in pain. How long had that lasted? According to what little information I had received, whatever killed her had expertly disguised itself as her and carried out her life for some time.

I remembered reading the coroner's report. The time of death had been placed around three hours before we found her. Had we just been a little faster, Nimbus would still be alive. She would be recovering in a hospital instead of resting in the ground.

“Mom? You okay?”

I looked up to see my daughter staring at me. Star was stretched out on the floor, with one of her textbooks open before her, doing a bit of last-minute studying before returning to school. She watched me with concern, unnerved by my unusual attitude.

My Star. My baby. And she was almost grown up. She had discovered her talent for tracking spells at an early age, mostly because she was born to stick her nose where it didn't belong. It must have come from her father.

I gave her a brittle smile. “Yeah, I'm fine.” I got up from the sofa and fetched my coat from the hook by the door. “I'm going to go out for a while, get some fresh air.”

Star closed her book and began to get up, “I'll come with you.”

Since we had buried Nimbus, Star had become a little clingy. If she couldn't be there herself, she planted one of her enchanted tracking gems. It wasn't unusual for her to plant the gems on ponies, but she had really stepped up her efforts.

“No, no. I'll just be gone for a little while. You stay and keep studying.”

Not one to listen, she got up anyways and came to me. Much to my surprise, she didn't refute my advice but embraced me tightly and I could feel her slip one of those jewels into my mane. I pretended not to notice. Hopefully, this was just a phase and she would move on when she was done grieving.

I pulled her close and gently kissed her brow. “I love you, Star. I know I don't say that enough.”

“Love you, too, Mom.”

We broke apart and I opened the door. “If your father asks where I've gone, tell him I needed to clear my head.”

x----x

It had been a long time since I had visited this part of town. The area began to look a little neglected as its usual patronage began to have families and careers that required more and more of their attention and found that partying the night away no longer held the appeal it once did.

She needed to be told. I knew it would devastate her, but, if she heard it from anypony other than me, I would never be forgiven.

The bar was closed, but the lights were still on and I could see her inside, cleaning up. A bell tinkled to announce my entrance.

She paused in her sweeping. “We're closed.”

“Even for old friends?” I teased.

She set her broom aside and slowly turned to face me. She had aged well. Even though she was well past the age of retirement, she looked as lovely as any young mare. If anything, age had only served to enhance her beauty.

With a happy cry, she trotted over and wrapped me in a tight embrace. “Windy!”

“Hey, Tips.”

“Don't you 'Hey Tips' me, Wind. Where have you been? I ain't seen ya in Celestia-knows how long.”

“Well, I've been busy.”

She sat back. “Too busy to come here and buy me a drink? Horseapples. What keeps ya too busy?”

I took a seat at the bar. “I'm Chief Counselor for the Royal Guard now.”

“That a fact? Knew you'd be top dog one of these days. Said to myself years ago, said 'Tipsy, that pony is goin' places' and now look at ya. Lemme guess, Nim's 'too busy' to pop in and say hi.”

I looked down for a second, steeling my resolve. “Tipsy, you might want to sit down for this.”

Her ears fell back. “Oh no. Did she get hurt? How bad is it?”

I covered my mouth with a hoof and took a few steadying breaths. I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to break this mare's heart, but she needed to hear it from me, not read it in some cold newspaper obituary.

“I'm sorry, Tipsy. She's gone.”

She wavered on her hooves and, for a moment, I was afraid she'd faint. But she shook her head and reached across the bar, taking both of my hooves in hers. “Tell me she went quick, Windy. Please tell me she didn't suffer.”

I didn't make a habit of lying, but one little lie didn't hurt. “She didn't suffer.”

The barmare lowered her head and breathed a sigh of relief. “At least there's that.” She returned her gaze to me. “How're you doin'?”

“I'm fine.” Came the immediate reply.

She shook her head, not buying it for a minute. “Don't ya lie to me, Wind Kicker. You're hurtin'. Ya don't work thirty years in the booze business without learnin' when a pony's hurtin'.” She came around the bar and seized me in another tight embrace. “Go ahead. Ain't nopony here, but us. I'll be strong for ya.”

Celestia, I needed this. I had to be strong for everypony else. The unshakeable Wind Kicker who took everypony else's problems with a straight face and a kind ear. But I was no superpony. Sometimes, even I needed to let go.

I tucked my head against her neck and felt the first of many tears leave my eyes.

“Atta girl.”

I missed my friend. She had gone through so much, suffered so terribly. I hoped that she would find happiness again one day, but she seemed to fight against it. She never recovered from what her sister had done to her.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, with me crying into her neck and she into my mane. Finally, we broke apart.

“She wouldn't want us boo-hooin' over her like this.” Tipsy declared as she got up and went back behind the bar, pulling out two tumblers and several bottles. Before I could say anything, she took the bottles in her magic and began to pour. It was an intricate dance that I soon lost track of as I recognized the drink she was making.

Rainbow's Revenge.

Nimbus' favorite.

Tipsy set the bottles aside and pushed one of the glasses towards me. We held them aloft and gently clinked the rims.

“To Nimbus Gust, the biggest feathering pain-in-the-plot to ever set hoof in my bar. May she rest in peace.”

“She's earned it.” I agreed.

Before I even took a sip, the bell rang and a timid voice called out. “Mom?”

I turned to see Star standing in the threshold of the bar.

“Whoa, kid. I don't know what kinda stories your daddy's been tellin' ya, but I ain't got kids.”

“She's talking to me, Tips.” I leveled a gaze at my daughter. “What are you doing here?”

She scuffed a hoof. “You were gone for a really long time.”

I glanced at the clock on the wall. “It's barely been an hour.”

She looked spooked. “I was worried.”

I patted the stool next to me and she hopped up.

“Star, this is an old friend of mine. Tips, this is my youngest.”

Star waved a hoof in greeting. “Hi.”

Tipsy smiled. “How ya doin', sweetheart?” She turned to me. “She's beautiful, Wind. Looks just like that colt I saw ya runnin' around with. What was his name?”

“Typhoon Season. He's her daddy. Her sister, Storm, is in the Long Patrol.”

“That right?” Tips asked as she poured a cider and set it in front of Star. “You need to bring her in here. All of my friends' lives are passin' by and I'll be damned if don't get to be a part of it.” She turned to Star. “Sweetheart, you're more than welcome to come in here any time you want. We'll gossip about the hottest mares and your Mom. I could tell ya some stories.”

“So long as it doesn't interfere with your schoolwork.” I added. “No daughter of mine is going to become some barfly.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mom.”

“Just the one. Then, we're going home.”

She nodded and took a sip of her cider.

Tipsy's eyes glazed over. “Yeah, I could tell ya some stories. Like the time I met your Mom and Dad. Your Aunt Nimbus had been comin' in here for years and-”

Author's Note

Well...That was...not as much fun as I anticipated. To be frank, the pressure of keeping up with Winningverse canon and making everything for a group of seriously underdeveloped characters was beginning to get to me. It was nearly to the point where I wanted to quit the project altogether.

But, obviously, I did not.

Still, I'm glad that this is over and I don't think I'll be dancing the keys in the Winningverse again. At least, not for the foreseeable future.

Thank you, Chengar Qordath, for letting me play in your sandbox and for giving me all of that great advice. It's been an honor.

Comma-Kazie, if you see this, thanks for, at least, trying to make sense of my mess. Even though it didn't work out, it's the thought that counts.

Thanks to all of you who favorited and commented. Even though some comments were less-than-glowing, they were always honest and constructive. I can appreciate that any day of the week.

Now, self-promotion time: If you liked this...you should look into some of my other works. Just follow the clicky-links back to my page and take your pick.

Again, thanks for the fun. Even though it got rocky towards the end, it was a great ride.