"Ugh. I'm sorry, Sweetie Belle, but I've got a headache. I can't go."
Rarity was sprawled on her couch, and not because she was being her bombastic self. Sweetie Belle could tell that her older sister was in legitimate pain--though the filly didn't want to believe that.
"Oh, c'mon!" Sweetie Belle's voice cracked; Rarity winced. "It's just a little headache, right? I get those all the time, and they don't last very long. Mom says it's genetic."
"Sweetie Belle." Rarity sat up, her tone of voice virtually dripping with crystallized syrup. "I don't think you quite understand how bad of a headache this is. The pain is throbbing! Splitting! It pounds like hooves against an apple tree! This pain, my dear sister, hurts more than the worst of your nightmares!" She clutched her head out of genuine pain. It still managed to be dramatic.
Her little sister just glared. "Really?"
"Ahem." Rarity lied back down on the couch. "But still, I have a bad headache, and listening to a herd of foals auditioning for a musical isn't really going to help."
"But Raaa-rity!" Another voice crack, another cringe. "All my friends are going to be there!"
"Even Scootaloo? Is she auditioning?"
"Mm-hmm."
"I rest my case."
Sweetie Belle frowned. "Aw. But I understand. Hope you get better soon, Rarity!"
"I love you, Sweetie, but right now, what I need most to get better is peace and quiet."
The little unicorn nodded. "OK." Her voice cracked. "See you after the play!" she said as she left the Carousel Boutique.
"You know, we really need to get her voice checked out," said Rarity to nopony in particular. "Ugh," she added.
"Hm."
Sweetie Belle wasn't thrilled at all. Her saddlebags, filled with nothing but the score for her audition part, flopped sadly as she walked.
She really, really wanted Rarity to be there when she auditioned for the school production of Foalthello. Her big sister was even enthusiastic about it--only to fall ill at the last moment.
But she didn't want Rarity to suffer. Sure, some of the colts had amazing voices. But Scootaloo--yeah, there was a slim chance she could get a cutie mark for singing, considering that musicals and talent shows are different things. A slim chance. It was asympta-whatchamacallit-ally close to zero. It was about as likely as asympta-whatchamacallit-ally being a real word, really.
So the only thing she could do was go home and practice one last bit for the audition. It wasn't as if Sweetie Belle could do anything about Rarity's headache. Not unless--
"I've got it! I'll ask Zecora for help! She's got something, I know it!"
Without delay, Sweetie Belle turned around. Virtually peeling out, she ran straight for Zecora's hut in the Everfree Forest.
Now, Sweetie Belle wouldn't ordinarily head on her own into a dark forest full of horrifying monsters and eldritch vegetation of her own free will. But Zecora didn't live very deep in the forest, and the Crusaders had been there many times because potion-brewing and zebra alchemy were really flippin' cool.
Cobblestones soon became dirt beneath her hooves as Sweetie Belle galloped. She was no earth pony, but, for a unicorn filly, she had excellent endurance. Even as the road stopped and became an ill-trod path through the forest, she continued running, though slower.
When Sweetie Belle arrived at Zecora's home, she was hardly winded, and her mane wasn't even thrown out of place. With skills like that, the filly often wondered why she didn't have a cutie mark for running.
Maybe she was even better at something else.
Zecora's hut, while imposingly strange to the average pony, was familiar to Sweetie Belle. She knocked on the door.
"Who is it that comes to visit?" Zecora asked, as she opened the door. "Oh, Sweetie Belle! What is it that you need? Have you come to ask for some rare seeds?"
"Not this time, no." Sweetie Belle smiled politely. "I'm pretty sure I'm not cut out to be an herbalist, gardener, or seed-spitter. Not that I don't appreciate the lessons you gave--or tried to give, anyway." Sweetie remembered all the spills, many of which gave off smoke.
Zecora smiled. "Most ponies find my job to be quite daft. I'm glad you came to learn about my craft."
The zebra went inside, and Sweetie Belle followed her lead. Zecora went to stir a potion.
"Actually," Sweetie Belle said, "I came because my sister Rarity has a headache, and I was wondering if you had anything to help her."
Zecora looked up and down her supply shelf, turning over various containers. All too soon, she turned to Sweetie Belle and shook her head.
"A headache truly ruins melodies; alas, I'm out of stuff for remedies."
"Darn it! Well, thanks for your time, Zecora." Sweetie Belle turned to leave.
"I did not say I could not cure. I'll gather bark and make it pure."
"Bark?" Sweetie's eyes lit up.
"The bark that grows upon the willow tree is stuff to make the needed remedy."
"There are willow trees here?" Sweetie asked, hanging onto every iamb Zecora spoke.
"Just up the path, beyond the oak. Avoid the patch of poison joke!"
Having all the information she needed, Sweetie all but bolted, and ran down the path that Zecora mentioned.
There was no time to call the Crusaders. Sweetie's plan was to get to those willows as soon as she could, stuff her bags full of bark, and haul it back to Zecora. The fate of a sister depended on it.
I never thought I'd ever go on a quest, not by myself.
It wasn't much of a quest, not yet. The paths through the Everfree Forest, while rarely used, were safer than most ponies assumed. As long as one didn't go digging around in the brush, the fantastic beasts would generally stay away.
But plants were different. Plants knew no fear. And beneath the dense, gnarled limbs, blue leaves spread, as if mocking the general consensus that ponies dominated nature.
At this sight, Sweetie Belle could only whisper. "Poison joke."
The plant was infamous among Ponyville's residents for being simultaneously horrifying and hilarious. It disabled magic, inverted wings, and shrank your very body. Rarity had gone through this very field, and came out looking like a sheep dog. "It was most unbecoming," her prim sister had said.
Sweetie Belle pondered: would she risk it and trudge through, or play it safe and find a way around? She imagined the pranks that the plant could pull.
Would her mane grow out of control? Rarity could probably do something interesting with that.
Would her horn go soft? Not like she could do magic yet anyway, and she could take the alleged "jokes" her peers would obviously make.
Would her voice--
"No!" she screamed. Her voice cracked; she put her hoof over her mouth and blushed. Yeah, she'd go around it.
The vines hanging over the patch looked like a cool idea, and Sweetie Belle imagined swinging over the patch. But--
She scoffed. "Really? You expect me to fall for that?" She tugged on the vine, which fell without much effort.
That left one option. She crept through the woods around the patch. Each step she planned deliberately. To touch the plants was a risk she could not allow.
Crunch, crunch. With every step, fallen branches split beneath her hooves. The harsh smell of long-rotted leaves assailed her. She cringed. Her coat would get dirty, she knew, and that wasn't very good at all. But what is a bit of dirt when your sister is ill?
Before her, Sweetie saw a stray poison joke plant bend. Abruptly, she stopped. Did she touch it by mistake? An eternal voice crack screeched in her head, and she held her breath in fear.
No, she had stepped on a stick that itself pushed on the plant. She relaxed, and carefully let up. She continued trudging around the patch.
Soon she reached the other side, and returned to the path. Her legs were a bit dirty, but, really, it was nothing. It just showed up well against her white coat.
Having conquered the poison joke, she couldn't help but blow it a raspberry before she continued down the path.
Sweetie Belle felt invincible. She was entirely too pleased with herself for getting past the poison joke--and reveled in it all the same. The little unicorn was literally skipping, whistling a tune all the while.
A horrid, horrid smell, a thousand times worse than the anoxic leaves, slapped the poor filly, who promptly coughed. Then it was over, leaving only watering eyes.
She turned to see what caused it--and stopped.
It was the breath of a timberwolf, sleeping on the side of the road. A monster made of wood, it blended in with the fallen limbs and dead leaves.
She didn't scream. That would have woken it up, which meant she would have to run, and that meant calling an adult. That would put her in so much trouble, considering that she wasn't actually allowed to be here to begin with.
Being chased by a timberwolf would have been scary, too.
Instead, Sweetie Belle froze. What would even bring the timberwolf out here, away from its pack? Scattered at her hooves were green scales--cockatrice scales.
She stepped lightly and carefully. She glanced constantly at the wolf, ready to bolt if it stirred.
Something snapped behind her. Sweetie Belle started, only to stumble on a rock and fall to the ground. Her heart pounding, the defenseless filly looked at the wolf. She didn't want to see it. She really didn't want to see it. But she had to, lest the beast of gnarled wood catch her by surprise.
She got up. The timberwolf snored peacefully.
Sweetie Belle couldn't take it anymore. She bolted.
This time, rather than pacing herself as she normally did, Sweetie ran at full sprint. Her mane all but fell apart, hairs strewn here and there out of curl.
All too soon, she ran out of breath. She looked behind her, dreading what she might see. There was nothing. She was all alone on the forest path. She stopped to catch her breath and soothe her nerves.
When she was sufficiently composed, Sweetie Belle continued at a more reasonable pace, hoping with all her heart that this was the worst part of the quest. After all, what could be worse than timberwolves?
She had avoided sadistic plants. She had avoided voracious predators. But she couldn't avoid this. No, this was an obstacle that Sweetie Belle could not circumvent.
"Who even put these stairs in the forest, anyway?"
A staircase loomed in front of the little unicorn. Aesthetically, it was a pretty cool staircase; made of stone and partly overgrown with moss, it looked like the perfect entrance to an ancient temple. But there wasn't anything in particular at the top. At best, the path continued. Sweetie couldn't see; the stairs were immense, as was the hill.
Well, they were immense, or she was just small. Either way, she couldn't climb them. Her legs were too short.
But seriously, stairs? In the forest? Really? Well, this hill is pretty steep. But who would even use these stairs?
She couldn't climb them, not even if she reared on her hind legs and reached up, not even if she jumped, and especially not even if she jumped from her hind legs. That last one only got her face-down in a pile of really sour-tasting grass.
There was only one idea left: get a running start. Sweetie Belle stepped back until she was at the edge of the brush. Then she sprinted, trying to get as much speed as possible. When she neared the stairs, she jumped high, only to trip on the corner of the bottom step and plant her face in a puddle of moss.
Despite that, she made it onto the first step! Alas, she couldn't see the top of the stairs any better, nor could she get a running start onto the second step.
Thwarted, she sat on the step. "Dumb stairs!" She looked around, wondering if there was anything she could use to scale those blasted stairs. Vaulting off sticks was right out; she definitely didn't have a cutie mark for pole vaulting. It probably would have made for an embarrassing story had she tried, but she couldn't even figure out how to use the pole.
And her ideas ended there. She watched a squirrel run around, gathering nuts. It wasn't like there was anything else to do. Well, she could go home. I probably should. If I can't get past this dumb staircase, what chance do I have to get that bark?
The squirrel dashed up to Sweetie Belle and looked at her, almost sympathetic. Sweetie Belle just sighed.
"C'mon, go! Don't sit around and feel sorry for me."
The squirrel seemed to comply at first, and bounded away. But it stopped, and looked at Sweetie Belle, then to its side, like it was gesturing "Look!"
Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes, but jumped off the step anyway. She approached the squirrel, wondering just what it was trying to show her.
A squirrel ladder. Fluttershy apparently built those to help critters climb steep hills. The structure was simple finished wood, a miniature staircase with small steps perfect for squirrels.
"That's no good." Sweetie shook her head. "There's no way that thing'll hold a pony's weight."
The squirrel looked expectantly at the unicorn.
"Just--just leave me alone. You've got to go and feed your squirrel family, right?" Sweetie Belle sat on her haunches and moped. "Don't waste your time trying to help me."
The squirrel took one last look at Sweetie, then climbed the ladder with seeds in tow as the filly watched. That squirrel's gonna take those nuts and store them for the winter, but I'm not gonna get to those willows, and Rarity--
No. She wasn't doing this for herself. She wouldn't get anything out of this quest; if anything, she'd be grounded for, oh, two months. This was for Rarity.
Sweetie Belle's eyes opened wide in realization as she rushed to attempt the ladder. She tested it, putting a hesitant hoof on the first step. It held, even under her full weight. Step by step, she climbed the narrow ladder. Sweetie didn't have the best balance in the world; all the more reason for her deliberate pace.
Sooner than she expected, she had reached the top, and could see over the hill for the first time. Indeed, the path continued atop the hill, and she saw the squirrel sitting in it.
"Thank you, squirrel!" she called.
Filled with determination, Sweetie Belle rushed along the path. No obstacle, no matter how creepy, frightening, or embarrassing--no obstacle could stop her.
None save this: she didn't know what a willow tree even looked like.
Was that a willow tree to the left? Couldn't be. It was an oak. Or a maple. Or a larch. No, it wasn't a larch; Sweetie didn't know her trees, but she could tell a larch when she saw one. This tree was an oaky maple tree, or something.
"Ugh! Where are the willows?"
She spied a sign saying "WILLOW GROVE," written in earth pony script, and an arrow pointing forward.
"Oh."
Slightly embarrassed, but not enough to blush, she followed the sign, and two more like it.
There it was, a clearing, filled with a grove of droopy-leaved trees. Sweetie had seen that tree without knowing what it was. They were surprisingly pretty, she thought. Sweetie was expecting the trees that grew in nightmares, not something elegant.
But she was here for bark, not beauty. She went to the first tree she saw, and noticed that much of the bark was gone. Some of it was left, but, try as she might, she couldn't peel it off, not with a hoof, nor her mouth, nor a tool.
She tried another tree, but, again, the bark was either missing or stuck. Her attempts to strip the third and fourth trees were equally fruitless--rather, barkless. Discouraged, she nevertheless continued; Sweetie Belle had come all this way, had come too far to return void.
Eventually, she came across a willow with its bark completely intact. Could she extract anything from it? She picked up a sufficiently pointy rock and poked at the tree, trying to find a crack in the wooden shingles.
She found one. In went the rock, off came some bark. And there it was, lying on the ground: the object of her quest. But Sweetie Belle knew just enough about herbology to know that one little chip of bark wouldn't be enough. Besides, if Zecora was out of willow bark, then she'd need a resupply. Why not fill Zecora's stores so others could cure their headaches?
Bit by bit, she chipped away at the bark and--
Something tapped on her shoulder. Sweetie Belle screamed.
"AAAAAAAGH!" The little unicorn jumped. Her horn grazed a branch, and a shaving of bark floated to the ground.
Sweetie turned around. Standing behind her was Zecora.
"I did not mean to cause you fear." Zecora tilted her head. "But tell me, please, why are you here?"
"Oh, I was just getting willow bark for Rarity, like you said." Sweetie Belle smiled.
"But, Sweetie Belle, did you remember me?" Zecora looked Sweetie Belle in the eyes. "I said I'd go to gather from the trees."
Sweetie's expression was blank. "Wait. So you were going to get the willow bark anyway?"
Zecora nodded.
"And I could have just waited at home until it was ready?"
Again, Zecora nodded. "You left so soon, but in your haste, your quest has been a total waste."
Sweetie Belle didn't reply. Instead, she looked down at the pile of bark she made and frowned.
Zecora put a comforting hoof on Sweetie Belle's shoulder. "This journey may be void, but wait! You've done no harm, at any rate."
"You're right, Zecora. I'm sorry for not actually listening to you. I guess...maybe I wanted to be helpful to Rarity so much that I put what I wanted on top of what you were actually saying. And I should have asked you what you really meant, instead of jumping straight into things. So, if you don't want to make me a headache potion, I understand."
Zecora shook her head and smiled. "Pick up your bark, and follow me; let's make a cure for Rarity."
Sweetie Belle had helped craft the potion, had washed and tidied herself, and had bid farewell to Zecora. Now there was just one thing left.
When Sweetie Belle returned to Carousel Boutique, Rarity was napping on the couch, but Sweetie's opening the door awoke her.
"Hello there, Sweetie Belle," Rarity said, her voice still subdued by her headache. "How was the audition?"
Sweetie didn't reply to that, instead producing a vial of fluid from her saddlebags. "Here. Mix this into a glass of water. Zecora says not to drink it too fast."
"Is this...a potion for curing headaches?" asked Rarity.
"Mm-hmm. Well, Zecora said it only helps relieve them, but still."
Rarity smiled. "Oh, thank you! Thank you so much, Sweetie Belle! You shouldn't have!"
Rarity, you have no idea, Sweetie Belle thought.
The tea kettle whistled. "I was going to make myself some tea, but I guess I'll mix this up instead," said Rarity.
"Well, I guess I'd better go home before Mom and Dad get worried. Bye Rarity!"
As the remedy fizzed, Sweetie Belle stepped outside. Her friends were there, waiting for her.
"Sweetie Belle!" cried Scootaloo. "Where were you?"
"Ya missed the audition!" Apple Bloom shouted.
Sweetie Belle awkwardly smiled. "Sorry, girls. Rarity had a headache and I, uh, had to take care of her."
"Well, Diamond Tiara got the main role," Scootaloo said. "I don't know how. She was awful."
"Hey, she ain't as bad as you," said Apple Bloom.
"At least I know I'm not a good singer! She thinks she's the greatest thing since Sapphire Shores." Scootaloo turned to Sweetie Belle. "But, you know, she's not even half as good as Sweetie Belle is."
Sweetie Belle blushed. "Aw, I'm not that good."
"Yes y'are," said Apple Bloom. "But that's all in the past. Guess what we've decided to try this weekend?"
"What?" asked Sweetie.
"Cutie Mark Crusaders Whip-poor-will Hunters!" the other two fillies said in unison.
"That sounds great! And I know just the place, too!"
Author's Note
This fic was written for One-Shotober.
In real life, willow bark is an effective pain reliever, but its active ingredient can cause stomach upset. A derivative of that ingredient, which is gentler on the stomach, was marketed as "Asprin" by Bayer, and the exact same drug is sold over the counter in pharmacies around the world to this day.
Whip-poor-wills aren't named after willow trees, but this is Equestria, a place where fruit bats are made of fruit.
Also, I hate writing in rhyme. Some of Zecora's lines here are the worst things I've ever typed.
And, yes, I know that Othello isn't a musical. Or maybe it is, but it wasn't when Shakespeare wrote it. But that was just a one-off pun/reference, so who cares? I've already spent more time defending it than I did thinking of it.
