Chapter 1: Persuasion
(THROUGH THE EYES OF MOONDROP)
Whenever my old friend the rain comes by, I greet it with a polite bow of my head, and it greets me back with its growling and crackling. It can be rather inconsistent in its behavior, though, as there are times when it doesn't respond to me at all. I despise inconsistency. After all, if you are going to make a circle, continue to make circles. If you are going to make a square, continue to make squares. And so on and so forth.
But our evening strolls are consistent, at least. And this fine, dark evening, I take a stroll with my old friend the rain. We pass by the dimly lit, amusingly conventional suburban houses that nest their amusingly goodnatured and conventional families, and their amusingly goodnatured and conventional Equestrians, and most recently, that nest their mixed-topsy-turvy-bags of humans and their mixed-fumbling-bumbling-bags of Newfoals, and so on and so forth.
My old friend the rain loves to infuriate me. It creates puddles beneath my hooves so that my legs can get soaked. I shout at my old friend for being a hinderance. We have an experiment to get done, and all it wants to do is play these silly games that only entertain itself. My friend flashes a Cheshire Cat grin in response. We continue our stroll. I occasionally stomp in my old friend's puddles to let it know that I have not yet forgiven it.
It is a good thing that my frustration has not completely distracted me from my objective, as I have almost passed by a street corner. As is conventional, there are times when figures decide to conceal themselves in street corners, especially on fine, dark evenings such as this one. Perhaps I will find what I need for the experiment hiding in this conventional street corner.
I peek into the corner, lighting the tip of my horn to brush aside some of the darkness. I am able to make out the figure of a human-child, who is clutching some sort of large creature - a canine, it appears - close to her chest.
The creature could be perfect for the spell I have learned.
My hooves clip-clap against the gravel as I approach the human-child. The sound must have attracted her attention, as she looks up at me. She appears to be no older than fifteen or sixteen, based on her appearance. Her blonde hair is a curly and mangled mess, and the dirt and bruises that coat her dark skin reveal many possible stories to me of her past and her present.
I reach the human-child and come to a stop, looking down at the creature she holds so close and so dearly to her chest. The mangy, rain-soaked creature does not attempt to lift its head up, nor does it glance up at me with its dark, sullen eyes. My old friend flashes its Cheshire Cat grin. We both agree that the creature will be perfect for the spell I have learned.
The human-child hisses, "Don't you dare do anything to harm him."
I make my tone cordial: "Why would I want to harm him - or to harm you, for that matter?"
The human-child's eyebrows furrow into a glare. Like my friend the rain does sometimes, the human-child has chosen not to respond when an answer would be more convenient for the both of us. I keep my tone cordial: "My name is Moondrop. And who might you be, my dear?"
The human-child looks at the creature she holds so close and so dearly to her chest. She runs her grimy fingers through its mangy, rain-soaked fur. The dirty animals complement each other. In response to my observation, my old friend flashes its Cheshire Cat grin.
Finally, the human-child answers: "Bridget." She looks at me with that defensive glare of hers. "But what does it actually matter to you, anyway? What do you want from us?"
I make my tone surprised: "I want to help you, Bridget. And your friend as well! You shouldn't be out in the rain like this, you and - what is your friend's name, my dear?"
"Brown," is her response.
She has knighted her canine, a brown golden retriever, Brown. What an original effort.
I speak, keeping my tone cordial: "You and Brown should be out of the rain and someplace warm, where you two belong."
"Do you actually care about us?" The human-child continues to look at me with that defensive glare of hers. "Equestrians only try to help others so that they can feel good about themselves. So why should I accept your oh-so-kind offer, when you're only doing it for yourself?"
How noble. She is risking death for both her and her creature because of her prejudice and cynicism.
"My dear," I say, "will you risk losing Brown simply because you don't trust us Equestrians?"
"Brown isn't going to die!" the human-child snaps. "I'm going to help him through all this on my own, I don't need your help - "
I sharpen my tone: "Do you truly believe yourself, my dear? Do you truly think that you and Brown can somehow manage to live and thrive in this dreadful condition? Even if you could, what about Brown? Look at his eyes - do those look like the eyes of a living creature to you?"
My old friend brightens the sky with its Cheshire Cat grin; it illuminates the creature's eyes for the human-child, forcing her to look into them. The human-child bites her lower lip. She must have practiced the art of Not Crying. The art of Not Crying does no one any good. There is only so long that one can Not Cry for until everything around them bursts like a pink pony's colorful array of balloons.
I tell the human-child, "I know a spell that could help make your friend feel somewhat better. Before I preform it, would you please allow me to take you and your friend to my place, so that I may provide you both with shelter from this dreadful rain?"
The human-child doesn't look up, though her eyes flicker in my direction. I extend my hoof towards the human-child. I ask, making my tone soft and offering an inviting-looking smile, "Will you try to trust this Equestrian..." I make sure to say her name for emphasis: "Bridget?"
The human-child stares at my hoof. After a few moments, she takes hold of it. "Do I have any other choice?"
"This has nothing to do with choice, my dear," I say as I pull my hoof back. "This has to do with helping you and helping your friend."
"There is no choice when it comes to life and death."
"This has nothing to do with life and death! I will make your friend feel better. I promise."
The human-child says nothing in response. She simply looks at me. Her eyes are softening. My old friend flashes its Cheshire Cat grin - The experiment will be conducted tonight!
Author's Note
I would like to thank McStuffins for proof-reading this chapter and providing me with feedback and suggestions.
