Remember?
Octavia jolted up, eyes snapping open and mind befuddled. Dazed from waking with such a start, she looked around a forest. Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, she started to get to her hooves, wondering what she was doing in the middle of the forest. She tried to remember, but nothing came. She furled her brow in concentration as she tried to remember where this place was and how she got here, but nothing came. Then a thought crept into her mind, like a snake slithering out of a deep and forsaken hole. The thought chilled her to the bone, and made her fur stand on end.
“Who am I?” She asked, her voice no longer that of the confident performer, with a hint of high society accent. Fear had sapped all confidence, and confusion had robbed her of anything that would resemble refined by any degree of standards.
Plodding along, she decided the best way to remember was to look for clues of things that could help her to remember who she was. After ten, maybe fifteen, minutes of walking, she spied a village.
“I bet I could find some answers there.” She said to herself. She didn't know why she was speaking out loud, but she found comfort in talking, even if the only pony who would hear was herself. Being alone scared her, and speaking gave her the illusion she wasn't the only pony around.
Setting off at a trot, she made her way into the village, where ponies hustled and bustled about, some shopping at the small apple stand outside, where an orange pony with apples for a cutie mark sold her shiny red fruit to anyone who came by.
“I'll ask her.” The gray mare decided out loud. “Excuse me, miss?” The orange pony turned her direction.
“An' what can I get fer' you Sweetie Belle?” The apple selling pony asked, her accent thick of a pony who's lived on an orchard farm all her life.
Sweetie Belle...That didn't seem right, thought Octavia as she opened her mouth to ask something.
“Apple Jack!” A small voice piped up behind her. Turning, Octavia saw a small white filly with a horn and a mane of purple and pink. “Rarity sent me to pick up some more apples. The big red, please. Those ones are my favorite!”
“Why certainly sugar cube,” Apple Jack winked. “This year was one of the best apple bucking years we've had in a while.”
It was quite obvious that Octavia was not included in this conversation, and rather than create a scene or butt in, she left silently. Something about that encounter seemed to stir her memory, but the swirling of activity died down when she left.
She looked up to see a great tree house. No, that wasn't quite right. It was a house alright, but it was made in the tree.
“What a peculiar thing.” Octavia mused out loud. Since no other pony stopped to remark to this, she figured she was the only one who found it strange. Shrugging, she went inside to find it was not a house, but rather a library.
“Well, I'll be.” Octavia smiled, seeing all the brightly colored covers and binds for all the books that were stacked up on the shelves. She spent a moment scanning some of the titles, So you want to be a Wonderbolt? By Spitfire, Mysteries of the Dark Side of Luna: a journey through history with our Moon Princess by Alfa Alfred, Apple Bucking for idiots by Big Mac and AJ. She giggled to herself at the last title. Apple Jack my be good at apple bucking, but it would be difficult to read if she wrote in the same orchard accent she spoke in.
It was then that she spied a purple unicorn with a purple mane, with a red streak and sparkles for a cutie mark.
“Excuse me,” Octavia greeted the unicorn, but the unicorn was reading something on a scroll and didn't turn. Octavia took note of this and thought that she was simply multitasking, and continued speaking. “But I'm a little lost and confused. Uh, where am I?”
“Shhhh!” The unicorn turned to the earth pony, looking right through her, thoroughly annoyed. “No talking in the library.”
Octavia took offense to this. “I beg your pardon!” She snorted back. “But I seemed to—”
“Scoot, if I have to tell you one more time.” The unicorn turned and stepped forward. Octavia took this as a sign of aggression, and quickly lost all bravo she'd had a moment ago.
“I'll leave.” She stated submissively. Fighting was the last thing on her mind, but the unicorn took another step towards her, and then another, until she stamped on her hoof, and then right thru it.
Octavia bolted before she could comprehend what was going on, not even bothering with the door, which she seemed to go right thru as well.
Tears welled in her eyes, why could she not remember what happened to her? What was going on? Why was everyone ignoring her, acting like she wasn't there, pretending she didn't exist. Why was...? She stopped galloping, breathing heavily, feeling her heart pumping hard against her rib cage. Where was she now?
Looking around she saw mounds all around her. Every mound seem to have large stone accompany it. A graveyard. She didn't know how she knew that, but she knew where she was, and she knew that white unicorn with the electric blue mane standing in front of a mound and stone on the far side of the yard.
“V-Vinyl?” Octavia choked out in relief, tears falling down her face. “What are you—”
But Vinyl wasn't listening. She was staring at the stone in front of her. “Octi...” The unicorn, who had always seemed so strong, so full of life, and always a consent of strength was shaking. “What has it been? Two years now?”
Octavia walked up and stopped next to her best friend. “Two years?” Octavia repeated dumbly. “But I just woke up an hour ago. I—”
“It's not bucking fair!” Vinyl yelled, silent tears streaming her cheeks. “It's only been to bucking years and the world has already forgotten you! Your work, you as a pony....I can't stand it!”
Octavia, stunned, looked dumbly to the large gray stone. It was hers. Her name in stone, sealing her fate. “I miss you.” Vinyl said, the tears flowing freely. “I will never forget you. You...you...Oh, Octi!” And with that the unicorn, as if sensing the spirit of her best friend that she's known for so long, turned and embraced Octavia.
“I'll never forget. Please come back.”
The words seemed to stir something inside of her, echoing all around her.
Come back, come back, come back, COME BACK! “I KNOW YOUR BUCKING IN THERE! YOU BETTER NOT BUCKING DIE ON ME, OR I'M GOING TO KICK YOUR BUCKING PLOT TO THE MOON!”
Slowly, painfully, Octavia opened her eyes. The sun flashed in her eyes, stabbing them with their bright rays of light.
“Octavia!” Something picked her up, gently and set her down on the back of a strong pony. “Hang in there! Do not die on me!”
Her vision faded and went dark.
When she opened then again, she was in Ponyville's hospital, a very worried and concerned Vinyl at sitting next to her bed, holding her hoof, as if her own life depended on it. “Doc! Doc! She's awake!” She called out, not looking away from Octavia.
“Calm down,” The Doctor said, coming into the room. He was a tall stallion with a reddish brown fur, blue mane and a sewing needle and thread for a cutie mark. “Miss Melody, you gave us quite the scare. Do you remember what happened?”
Octavia sat up, her back stiff and IV's in her legs. “No,” She answered, “I don't recall a thing, except a strange dream.”
“Hmmm,” The Doctor turned to his x-ray scans. “It seems like you were attacked by a diamond dog, and by the way you looked, he caught you off guard.” He turned to her and smiled, a gentle, kind smile. “Lucky for you, the diamond dog just irritated and not hungry. You'll have a full recovery. Unfortunately, you will have a scar over your right eye. That I can not do anything about, but it will not affect your vision in the slightest.”
“Thanks Doc.” Vinyl breathed out, more relieved than Octavia. The Doctor smile and left to go attend to other patients. “Octi, you really scared me back there.” Vinyl said quietly.
“I had the strangest dream.” Octavia told her friend. “Everyone had forgotten about me, but you. It was you, who missed me, who stayed true to the end. It was you who brought me back.”
Vinyl hugged the gray mare.
“I'll always stay true.” She said, shedding a few tears.
Octavia returned the hug. “I know.” She replied, a strange melody playing in her head. Latter on, that melody would be put on paper, and preformed several months latter by none other than Maga Baytooven, the great, great grand son of the master composer Lud Van Baytoven. But all that mattered for the moment, was the unicorn in her arms, embracing her. Her best friend, who'd always stick with her through thick and thing.
“You are my true friend.”
